A/N: The latest chapter (meant to be fresh off the press)! I've added an extra segment and I've been a super busy recently, so that's why it's taken REALLY long to get out. Honestly, the rewrite kinda fell onto the backburner. Really, really sorry guys. Real life just got the best of me with a lot of my current WIP fics.

Gucci Mane LaFlare - Heather and anything is an evil combo. She's pretty much always plotting to stay on top - but it is a pretty good skill. Also, I'm glad you spotted the TDI callback along with how I've switched up the plot a little from here. There's quite a few more changes coming up.

Till next time,

D.L.D


Comfort, Failure, Guilt and Anger


Courtney's P.O.V

Like always I wake up early today. The sun was just peeking through my curtains, a few birds annoyingly chirping away in the early morning air. My room was suspended in half-gloom, like a magical amber glow, and I could make out the familiar outlines of my closet, bookshelf and violin case. Picture frames lined the top-most shelves, a few being family photos but most being of friends, and me and Duncan. In all, everything was normal, everything was as usual.

Everything except me.

Stretching, I yawned as I rubbed at my eyes. Recently, sleep hasn't been great for me. Ever since that day in the park, standing in the pouring rain, I've been having the same sad dream. The same sad vision. Silver mist would fill the air and I would walk through it, trying to find an exit, only to end up spotting Duncan. Every time I saw him, I gave chase. I followed him through the swirling mist and fog, tripping over roots and scratching myself on brambles. Then, once I'd caught up with him, I'd look around and spot that we were in an area that looked a lot like the park.

"You're just like him," He'd say, glaring at me. Glaring at me. The sort of glare that feels like daggers, knives, and made you know that you've messed up, made one of the worst possible mistakes you ever could in your lifetime. Every time it pinned me to the spot, stabbed through my gut, my heart, piercing me with pain.

When Duncan did that, glared at me, all my explanations and excuses would evaporate. Disappear. Instead of acting, speaking, I would stand there, rooted to the spot, letting the painful sting of the icy rain envelope me in the middle of the overgrown forest, watching as a flash of neon green faded into the gloom. Then there would be nothing.

Each night, I would find myself awake after that, staring at the ceiling, thinking about him, about what he's doing, and wondering why I chose to let it all go. To let him go.

'You know why,' My brain sang every time, always chiming in whenever I got carried away. 'You know exactly why we needed to toss him away.'

The plan... Of course my brain prioritized the plan over Duncan. From a logical point of view, Duncan was something that we didn't need. Duncan was someone who only offered petty distractions, a small escape from the crushing reality of being successful and perfect. If I wanted to succeed and take over from Heather, then I needed to get rid of distractions. I needed to be entirely focused and concentrated.

But I still regret the way in which we split. Doing it in the way I did was wrong. Acting like Duncan's father, talking to him like a condescending asshole, was just plain wrong. Immoral. I should know better.

'He's not trash!' I snapped in response, frowning as I stretched my arms again. A small click echoed around the room. 'We both know that he makes us happy and being that harsh on him was stupid.'

'Happy isn't always best,' My brain rebutted, its tone somber and stern. 'You should know that best of all, Courtney dear.'

Huffing, I rolled my eyes and decided to tune out my brain. However, the only way to do that was by focusing on the stupid plan. That meant checking on Heather's 'borrowed' USB, that I managed to snatch from her bag, and kick-starting the second phase of my whole little scheme. After all, the best way to get back at someone is through their deepest darkest secrets. Heather taught me that.

Grabbing my laptop from the top of my bedside table, I turned it on and plugged in the little red USB. Easily, I tapped on my keyboard and logged in, clicking on the little file logo on the taskbar. As soon as I did, Heather's USB titled 'Secret Schemes' popped up on the little sidebar. Smiling, I clicked onto it and waited for it to load. For a long time, the little blue circle rotated round and round. Then, after around a million years, the files popped up one by one.

"Looks like I've hit the jackpot..." I breathed as I scrolled through the array of files and plans. Most of these dated back to last year, but a couple of them were recent. Some were even snippets of information that Heather kept secret from us all.

Smiling, I clicked onto the oldest file. Instantly, a small menu popped up, demanding that I enter a password. Below it was a small warning, informing me about the three attempts I had to guess correctly. I closed my laptop, setting it aside. Great. Just great. Of course Heather would have a backup policy just in case her prized USB went missing. She's just made my job about a million times worse...

Grabbing my phone, I scrolled through my call history. Soon it was by my ear and I was waiting for my only solution to pick up.

"Hello?" A sleep-toned husky voice answered my call. I'm not surprised. I'm one of the few people I know who bothered to wake up so early in the morning.

"Hey," I answered, trying to keep my voice entirely professional. However, I caught the small slip into casualness. "Sorry for calling so early, but I just wanted to know if that deal we had is still open. You know, the one about Heather?"

A moment of pause. I heard a bit of shuffling, most likely rifling through papers or getting up from bed. If I cared enough, I would have asked if I should call back later, but I didn't. This person wasn't really important to me; I was just using him to advance - just like how he was using me. It was a mutual use-use partnership.

"Yeah, it's still open," He finally responded. Carefully, he added, "Can I ask why you want to agree now?"

Now it was my turn to pause. I felt the air rush into my lungs, a deep breath, as I closed my eyes and tried not reveal the growing stress and tension within me. The last thing I needed was for him to think that I needed his help. That I was struggling to do this all alone.

"I need a new ace up my sleeve," I responded simply, smoothly. Each syllable slid effortlessly off my tongue. "I have the USB, but it's not enough. I need a backup, just in case. Plus, I'm still willing to arrange payment."

"Sounds great," My accomplice answered, their smile evident. I heard the heavy click of keyboard keys. "I'll find another lead on Heather, although it shouldn't be too hard. I know a few people."

"Thanks," I smiled, genuinely meaning it. Whether they knew it or not, my accomplice was helping me a lot. Now that I've hit a dead end with the USB, their lead was the only hope I had at sending Heather her first message on time. While that mess happened, I could then secure her password.

"No problem," My accomplice responded, sounding somewhat sincere. "We'll talk payment later."

The line then went dead and I was left alone in my room, the birds chirping in the background and the sun just resting in its first position. As I placed down my phone and decided to have a shower, I couldn't help but smile. Grin.

Soon, Heather's leading the crowd days will be just a bitter memory in the mind's of Wawanakwa's student body - and I will be the one I top. I will be the one wearing her golden crown.


Heather's P.O.V

When I arrived at school I was immediately joined by my Squad and Katie and Sadie. Like every day they were all excited, chattering, sharing gossip and accessories and advice, as I locked up my car and glared at the school building. All were oblivious to the simmering rage within me.

Four years. This place had stolen four years from me.

At first, I had thought that Wawanakwa High would be a place for me. With its glossy facility and state-of-the-art equipment, it hadn't taken much for me to sign the stupid contract and agree to attend the school. Little Middle School me, filled with her awkward Middle School ways, had seen Wawanakwa as a chance to change herself. Mold herself. High school was my opportunity to become one of the glitzy mean girls instead of one of the geeky nerd girls.

Seniors had taken me under their wing - the top-shot Prom Queen mean girls. Over the past three years, they were my guidance, my preparation for the day when I would take over the high school crown. One by one, my passions were changed, swapped, for more 'acceptable' pastimes. Fashion was expanded on, makeup and jewelry being introduced from day one; later came parties, college boys, sneaking out late to stay in with the crowd.

That brought me here to now. Year Four. Senior Year. After all the work I've done to get here, why was it so difficult to keep it all the same? Why was it so hard to whip the masses into shape? Seniors before me had done it, their successors, then the next successors, had all done it flawlessly. But here I was, the fourth generation of the line, and I couldn't even keep Freshmen from snickering behind my back.

When did I start failing so badly?

Frowning, I tossed my car keys into my bag and headed toward the main building. I wasn't in the mood to watch people pass by, nor did I feel like seeing their hidden smirks. If anything, it was all just a sign of their loosening obedience - their slipping concentration. If Courtney didn't do as I asked soon, then I'll become the first dethroned Queen B in the history of Wawankwa's line. I'll be the first ever failure in the flawless file.

"Heather!" Speak of the devil.

Scoffing, I rolled my eyes as Courtney approached. She looked a little scattered today, her white blouse untucked from her pants and her hair-clips askew. Wisps of mocha hair escaped her otherwise perfect bun, a few black hairpins keeping her baby hairs pressed into the style. In her hands was a pile of papers, the front printed with 'Vote for Courtney!' and emblazoned in big purple letters. Below the letters was a picture of her and what looked like a crowd of raised hands. Creative. Not creative enough though. She was slipping.

"What do you want?" I sighed, walking through the open double doors. Courtney followed, her breathing rapid and loud.

"I can't do it!" She rasped, trying to recollect her breath. She adjusted the stack of papers, nudging her shoulder to slide her satchel towards her back. "I just can't. It's not fair to Duncan and it's not fair to Gwen."

That's why she was taking so long: Courtney was having second thoughts. Of course Courtney was having second thoughts! Courtney was always one to think through her actions, calculate her path and her chances of success. She didn't listen and she didn't leave things to chance. Everything Courtney did had to be done the 'right way' - the Courtney way. She never liked diverging from her usual mannerisms and morals.

But that's too bad here. Courtney wasn't the ruler, Courtney wasn't the queen. I am the queen and what I say goes. If I told her to do something, then she had to find a way to do it. I didn't give a damn if her beloved delinquent got pissed at her; I didn't care if her friend-ish bond with gothball went bad. It was none of my business; it was none of my concern. All I cared about was my power and that my damn underlings carried out my bidding.

"Not fair?" I raised a brow, my lips tugging with distaste. "Shaving off my eyebrows wasn't fair. But here we are, Courtney: you have to do something you don't want to and I have shaved off eyebrows. I guess life isn't all that fair to what we want."

"Can't you think of anything else?" Courtney tried again, her expression pleading. She peered at me, pulling her paper-filled arms closer to her chest. "Please? I really don't want to ruin my chances with Duncan. Plus Gwen is- "

"Hold up," I stopped in my tracks, my brows already pulling in at a sharp angle. Swiftly, I turned to her, narrowing my gaze. "Since when did you care about what Gwen thinks? Don't you insult her half of the time?"

Courtney's mouth closed with a small popping sound, her features slackening. For a moment, she was silent, opening her mouth and closing it once more, as she fidgeted with her papers and stared at the passing students. But after a moment, she gained clarity and straightened her posture, staring me directly in the eye.

"I don't care what Gwen thinks," She stated, her voice toneless and plain. Promptly, she cleared her throat. "I just think that she's already paid enough. No-one really talks to her anymore and everyone still remembers what happened in Sophomore year. Her reputation is solidly dead."

My gaze remained skeptical, "So how could it harm her to poke it a little more?"

"It won't."

Exactly. It won't hurt Gwen's reputation to teach her a lesson once more. She was already socially dead and everyone avoided her like a plague. What happened in Sophomore year lit the way for Gwen to disappear; her explosion in front of the whole school led to her being outcast. Did I feel sorry for her? I was tempted to say yes - she did go through some crazy shit - but mostly no. I didn't. Everything that happened to Gwen, she had coming. She deserved it.

"Well then, it seems we don't have a problem," I flashed Courtney my best smile. Then, I dug out my phone and waved it in front of Courtney. "Plus if you're ever feeling like having second thoughts, I always have motivation."

"Yeah, right," Courtney scoffed, rolling her eyes. "What could you possibly have to blackmail me with?"

"A lot more than you think, Courtney," I grinned, sauntering away from her. "A lot more than you think."

Leaving her, I disappeared down the hall and headed towards Alejandro's usual hangout - a hallway nearby the Announcement room. As expected he was there, talking to another student, leaning against the wall. The student looked like a Sophomore, maybe a girl who worked for the school newspaper, her red curls being twisted around her finger as she nodded intently at his every word. Like every younger female, she looked up at Alejandro with those stupid ga-ga eyes.

Instinctively, bile rose up my throat and I had to swallow it down before smiling and calling out to the Spanish turd.

"Hey, Ale-jerko!"

Immediately, he turned and flashed me a wide smile, "Heather!"

The act continued as I came closer to the two, solidly planting myself between the girl and Alejandro. She should know her place: beneath me. Sophomores didn't get the same social privilege as a Senior, they didn't even get to mingle most times. All the younger years were meant to scurry around, serve the social order of the building, before growing and replacing the Seniors. That's how it's been for years; that's how it will remain.

"What brings you here?" Alejandro looked at me, an incredulous twinkle in his eyes. I knew it is really intent. He knew why I was here - it's obvious from how he placed an arm around my shoulder and tried to act as if we were buddies.

"I just wanted to ask you a favour," I spoke, keeping up the smile. Subtly, I nudged his hand away and shot him a little glare. "I want you to keep an eye on a student for me."

"A student?" He hummed, his brows dropping. A hand came to his chin, framing his features with thought. "Which one?"

The Sophomore, awkward as ever, coughed a little, drawing our attention. Her cheeks flushed as she peered up at us, her red hair hiding her features as she spoke in a timid little squeak of a voice.

"I guess I should speak to you later, right Alejandro?"

An eye roll. That's what I gave this oblivious Sophomore. She seemed totally unaware of the dangerous snake this gorgeous Spanish hunk could be; just one bite from him and you could end up permanently damaged. But like all the silly younger girls, she was smitten with him. She loved the idea of an unreadable and manipulative jerk who would walk all over them. Poor dear. If she wasn't so susceptible to Alejandro, I may have seen potential in her.

"Yes, we'll catch up later, Cattaleya," He nodded absentmindedly, still thinking about the student, still appearing pensive.

The girl then nodded and scurried off, taking her bag and awkwardness with her. With a final, fleeting glance of worry, she disappeared around the corner, looking as if she were ready to chew her nails off with anxiety. All too soon, it was just me and Alejandro left in the corridor, the silence hanging between us.

"Didn't know you liked minors," I smirked, turning to face him. I raised a brow. "Aren't you a little old for her, Alejandro?"

This time, I got an eye roll. A pretty big and playful one.

"She's a relative," He sighed, shaking his head. His green eyes were still filled with thought as he laughed a little, taking amusement from my assumptions. "A cousin, actually."

"Oh," Suddenly all smart remarks felt dead in my mouth. Instead, I felt like I had to dive straight into business. Important matters. Alejandro must not catch my daze, my uncertainty. "Anyway, I need you to keep an eye on Courtney for me. She's becoming a bit... rebellious."

"Isn't she always rebellious?" Alejandro raised a brow, a grin growing on his lips. I scowled. Still grinning, he raised a brow. "This is the opinionated class president we're talking about."

"So?" I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. He really didn't get it - why would he ever get it? Alejandro joined here late, he was popular from the beginning. He didn't know what it was like to prove your worth as Queen Bee material. He didn't know about getting teased and mocked and laughed at. He didn't even get how it felt to be... outcast. Rejected. Left to rot away in the shadows and shame. I knew what it felt like and I didn't want to feel that again. EVER.

"I just need to make sure that Courtney doesn't slip out of control."

"Consider it done, mi vida," Alejandro gave me a low, swooping bow, his smirk not at all hidden. "I am at your service, after all."

I rolled my eyes, "Just get up."


Duncan's P.O.V

"Come on, Pasty! Stop being such a drag," I rolled my eyes, trying to drag Gwen along with me to kill some time. "This is gonna be fun, I promise!"

School's out, the day's ended and I'm ready to be a menace to the locals. Too much shit has gone down in the past few days for me to just sit there, pretending to be content as fuck, when I'm raring for the chance to pick a fight with anything I can: going home will only be a massive fight with the Geezer; staying back at school with result in a highly-likely suspension; everyone else would probably dump my sorry ass at the closest gas station or diner.

So, rather predictably, poor Gwennie is stuck with me. Indefinitely - or at least until I can sort out the shitstorm currently ransacking my brain.

"Why?" Gwen raised a brow, instantly throwing a wrench into my havoc-wreaking plans. Typical Gwen - she always was the more sensible out of the pair of us. When I would charge headfirst into danger, she was always there to stop me or record my royal failure for a future lesson. Speaking of, I should ask if she has that recording of Halloween 2012; that night was definitely one we should keep immortalized on tape.

"Cause, I'm bored," I groaned, exaggerating on just how obvious that was. Tugging on her arm, I attempted to drag Gwen toward the closest exit. "There's nothing to do in this old ass town."

"Well, find someone else to kill your boredom with," Gwen yanked her arm free from me, her face pulling into a frown. Placing a hand on her hip, she shook her head as she pulled out her phone, typing something. "I have shit to do."

Since when was Gwen too busy to follow me about town? Usually, even when she did protest hanging out, Gwen would be right behind me, grinning as she laughed and documented every moment of our misadventures in this hellscape. Entire days could be passed with just the pair of us wandering about town, sometimes heckling the public, other times being more functional members of society - it depended on the day.

Today, however, Gwen appeared to be more hesitant, reserved. Did I push her too far with the party invite? Was it a wrong move to try and distract her from Elvis?

Looking at her right now, shrinking even more into her brair-thorned shell, part of me couldn't help but think that I might have made things worse. Like I always did.

"What shit?" Frowning, I tried to probe the answer out of her. Gwen always was a master at hiding her true actions and intentions. With her well-practiced poker-face and natural sarcasm, Gwen could make a million of her worries poof into zero. That was something I always found difficult about her: her ability to hide the truth.

"Homework," Gwen deadpanned, serious and plain. Grinning, she then poked me in the face, her pale finger jabbing the tip of my nose as she joked, "Unlike you, Dunk, I want a real job."

"Very funny," I chuckled, relieved that she actually appeared to be somewhat ok. A good sign. A great sign. Joining her joking behaviour, I ruffled her already scruffy-looking hair, making it stick up in random spots. "But I'm pretty sure working in the Dollar Store doesn't count, Pasty."

"Hey!" Gwen gasped, her eyes wide as she bat my hand away. Smoothing down her hair, she shot me a glare. "That's where you're going!"

"We can be coworkers, then," I grinned, looping my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side. Laughing, she shook her head, rolling her eyes lightheartedly as I continued. "Employees of the month every month!"

"You're so stupid," Gwen sighed, a tiny smile cracking onto her face.

"So... you wanna go or not?" I tried again, hoping that her good mood would make Gwen more willing to kill time. But, of course, I should have known better.

"I told you, I have shit to do," Gwen remained firm, now creating space once more. That hand was back on her hip again, the other pocketing her phone as she raised a brow at me. "But if you're so desperate for attention, why don't you actually try talking to your dad for once?"

Talk to him, huh? The last time that happened, I spent the night behind bars. Never happening again.

"No way," I shook my head, my entire mood souring instantly. Not again. Not ever again. That was a line I was never going to cross again; even if the Geezer was on his deathbed, his dying wish being to see his black sheep son, I wouldn't even try to reach out to him. To me, he was already dead. "You know exactly why- "

"I know," Gwen cut in, her tone gentle and hushed - just like how my ma's was every time we spoke about this. Biting her lip, she placed a small hand on my shoulder, seeming careful with her wording as she continued, "But it's only a suggestion. Now if you'll excuse me, I have shit to do."

"You mean you haven't got shit to do!" I yelled after her. But she's gone. Aware of how I'd explode, aware of the incoming shitstorm, Gwen had well and truly scurried away, leaving me to brave it all alone once more.

Agitated, I kicked at the wall, my foot meeting pure brick. Fuck! Why was being mature so damn hard!


Anne-Maria's P.O.V

Fuck yeah! School's out for the day and I've got a whole evening aside to perfect all the final details for my killer weekend bash. Not to mention with the wind blowing through my hair, and the steady thrum of my bike below me, my veins were pumping, full.

I've always loved taking my motorbike out for a spin, especially during rush hour, when I can twist, turn and maneuver through traffic like a maniac. It's the one time I can let out the aggressive Jersey in me without being an outright bitch. But today was different. Fresher. Maybe it's because Heather couldn't dictate shit to me anymore. Perhaps it's because I knew that soon enough I'll be on top, on the throne, right where I belong. Whatever it was, it got me high. Buzzing.

Just as I pulled up outside the family biz, my ringtone pierced through the afternoon traffic. Immediately, I pulled my phone out of my jeans pocket and stared at the incoming caller: Dakota. Dakota, or Koats as I often called her, rarely called these days. Being a member of the Squad, and a reluctant lackey of Heather, she never got to hang out anymore. Sometimes she could spare a decent video call, or hang around out of town, but Heather didn't really like us doing 'individual stuff'. She always thought someone was out to get her.

Well, she's not wrong. People were out to get her - because she's a bitch.

Locking up my bike, I sighed as I answered the call, "Hey, Koats. What's up?"

"I've done something bad," A huge sniff; she was crying. Sobbing. I could tell from the way she breathed, the heavy sniffs that punctuated her silence. "I've done something really bad, Annie."

I knew it. I fucking knew it. There was this terrible feeling in my gut all day, that sorta heavy, sinking feeling people talk about when something bad happens, and I knew it had something to do with Dakota. With Heather. I had felt it earlier today getting ready for school; it had lingered and grew when I spotted Heather whispering away during school. Deep down, I knew, I knew, that Heather was going to tangle Dakota further into her web. Trap her. I just didn't think she'd do it so soon.

"Fuck..." I breathed, pulling out my pack of cigarettes. What? Don't look at me like that - I need 'em right now. "What did you do, Koats? What's got Heather breathing down ya neck?"

More breathing. Heavy, panicked, hiccuping breathing. I could imagine her on the other side of the phone, her green eyes red and her tan skin flushed as she stubbornly scrubbed away her tears and sniffed away the snot. Maybe she was at home. Maybe she was out in public, hiding away in a bathroom. Either way no-one will hear her out or try to comfort her; Dakota's alone.

"I- " She paused, gulped, sniffed. "I've sent Courtney on a killing spree. She's gonna kill them! She's gonna kill me!"

Huge sobs took over, drowning out the sound of the nearby traffic, and I found myself frowning as I took a heavy drag from my cigarette. Clearly, Heather had pushed Dakota too far. Too, too far. Whatever shit she's entangled her in, Kota's in deep. Very deep. I didn't know if I could do it anymore; I didn't know if I could pull her out unscathed anymore.

Breathing out, I let my lungs fill with smokey nicotine, clearing my head, before responding. For once, I needed to be levelheaded. I needed to give Dakota decent advice, like she has for me, because it's only fair to call it even. It's only fair to do for her as she's done for me - even if I'm not the usual mushy, gushy type.

"Dakota," I began, taking another draw of my cigarette. My hands shook; I really did need it now. "Listen to me, hun."

She sniffed, quietening down, "Mhm."

"Who is Courtney gonna kill?" I raised a brow, breathing out again. I felt like one of those cheesy detectives, the PIs who always had a stupid New York accent and had some sorta Italian decent. The cigarette didn't help, its ash and smoke giving me a smokey downtown slum vibe. Neither did my Italian heritage. "Why, specifically, is she gonna kill you?"

"Heather," A dead tone. A plain answer. Yet, it was filled with fear, obedience. "Heather. She got me to record Gwen and Duncan, and I know that she's going to manipulate it. I know that she's going to- "

"Don't worry your pretty blonde head about it," I spoke before she could panic again, cry again. My voice left soft, gentle, as I stubbed out my cigarette and watched the traffic flow outside the car park. The final wisps of nicotine left my lips. "I'll deal with it. I'll warn Gwen and Dunk. I'll make sure that Heather and Courtney lay off ya, kay?"

No answer - just a sniff.

"I said, kay?"

Another small pause. Then a sigh. "Ok. I think that would be best."

"You're damn straight it is," I huffed, tossing the stub of my cigarette onto the sidewalk. I put it out with my shoe. "So don't worry about it anymore. Annie's here to fix your mess."

"Thanks, Annie," She said it so softly, so lightly, that I could imagine her brightening up a little. I could see her tears stopping and a small, sheepish smile fixing onto her face. "I just... I want to say sorry for all those things I've done for Heather, you know? I want to take it all back..."

Take it all back? I'd never thought about it like that before: taking it all back. I mean, with Heather you always felt like you were doing the right thing, being a bringer of justice. With Heather, you didn't question right and wrong; you didn't think about how that girl with the tacky skirt felt, or how the boy with the proactive stuffed into his backpack felt; you didn't question how you'd feel if the roles were reversed; you didn't think about anything.

I still didn't.

"I know, Koats, I know. We all kinda do," I eventually sighed, pushing open the family restaurant's front door. The bell tinkled as I stepped inside. "But some of those people deserved it. Even you can't deny that."

Another pause. Another small, uncertain sniff.

"Yeah, I know," Dakota sighed too, however hers was more thoughtful. Reflective. "I know."


Sam's P.O.V

After school was when I headed to Dakota's to start a new session of Cryno. Like every usual visit, I made sure to approach her house around the back, where she had her own little secret entrance through the garden. Every Friday we had this ritual of meeting up, playing some pretty good games (new and old) and then recording some it for her online content. It was nice sharing the secret; it was nice being trusted.

When I first learned that Dakota was a huge gamer at heart, I couldn't believe it. At first I thought she was lying, just trying to get to me like those girls who liked to pretend to be my friend, but she was different. Genuine. Dakota had the skills of a pro-gamer, someone who took gaming to heart, and I immediately recognised her talent when she challenged me to game of classic Street Fighter after school one day. Since then we'd pretty much been solid gamer buddies and I covered for her by saying I helped her out with homework - if only she really did need my help!

Dakota, like many of the kinder popular girls of our school, used to be quite geeky. I remember her from Middle School - her embarrassing brace-face kiss with Greg Olsen. Even back then I always thought Dakota was pretty nice, very different from other girls of her caliber, but she shrunk away after the brace-kiss. She shrunk within herself completely, becoming Heather's complete puppet.

However, years after, she's better. Her confidence was coming back, she's made a few good friends, and she's blossoming in her gaming career. I'd say in a season or two she'll be a fully fledged pro, a fully-paid competitor.

"Sam!" Dakota ambushed me as soon as the door opens, flinging both of her arms around my neck. "I've made such a bad mistake!"

"What?" Immediately shock took over my system, forcing my arms to stiffly try and comfort her. Fortunately, I was used to her emotional outbursts and managed to land a few solid pats on the top of her blonde head. "Dakota, you're the nicest and most honest person I've met. Sure, you've made a terrible mistake, but we all do. It's part of being human."

"But I-I've sealed someone's fate!" She hiccuped, sniffing harshly. Her green eyes were glassy as she pulled away from me, shaking her head. "I've helped Heather to destroy someone's life!"

"So?" I retorted, knowing very well that Heather was someone who tended to make Dakota feel much worse about her actions than she really should. Whenever Heather made Dakota act, she always had some sort of relapse - a breakdown - worrying about how bad she was and how she shouldn't be so easy to control. Each and every time I had to remind her that it wasn't her fault; each every time I had to remind her that she was a good person. "You're sorry about it, right?"

"Yeah," Dakota nodded, swallowing thickly. Sniffing once more, she wiped her eyes, spreading the red ring and dark eyeliner around them. The back of her hand came back with smears of makeup. "Yeah, I am. I'm really, really sorry. I even told Annie that I am."

"Then just let them know that," I told her, believing that it was the best course of action. If other people knew about Dakota's situation, about how Heather used her, then they wouldn't blame her. They couldn't blame her. I knew that I didn't. "Once you explain it all, I'm sure they'll understand."

"Really?" Dakota asked, a little bit of joy creeping back into her system. She was hopeful, clinging to the small chance of redemption that I had presented to her, and the sight of it both made and broke my day. Dakota was someone who shouldn't have to prove that she was a good person; Dakota was a good person. She was a good person who had been dealt some terrible, terrible cards in the intricate game that we called life.

"Really," I nodded, giving her my most supportive and kind smile. "And if you don't believe me, call Anne-Maria. I'm sure she'll say the same."

"She already did," Dakota laughed and for a second it's like the old days. It's just like back then, when no-one cared about popularity or payback, when no-one was obsessing over public image - all they cared about was having good fun. Good, pure fun that would tickle your insides and make you smile. But that feeling was fleeting. It was short. Lasts only for a second.

"See!" I grinned, nudging her. "I told you! Now let's get started on those matches. They'll definitely cheer you up."

Humming, Dakota nodded, ready to lead the way to her room. Hopefully a good game of Cryno will cheer her up.