A/N: This chapter is kinda like a filler/intro of the next subplot so it deviates quite a bit from the problems of the last chapter. I literally just noticed that :I. Lol.

Also, Cryno isn't a real game. I just thought it'd be fun to throw in a fake game name, try to mix-up the story universe a bit. Quite a lot of effort went into Dakota's bit actually, like a lot. I think it works pretty well though.

Gucci Mane LaFlare - I agree, fluff is just needed sometimes. Also Heather, Courtney and Anne-Maria will have a lot of back and forth. I've actually been focusing on weaving it all together, especially so it flows well. So I'm glad that you find it's not very rushed this time round. Also writing Lindsay can be a true struggle, you want to make her dumb but not too dumb as you said. As for the rating, I'm gonna see how this goes. Although I'll consider posting this up on Ao3 if it does change.

Till next time,

D.L.D

Pom-Poms and Secrets

Bridgette's P.O.V

Slowly, my eyelids lift to reveal the familiar gloom of Gwen's living room. I spot the family pictures hanging from the walls, Gwen, her brother and her mother all captured over the various years. In a couple are Gwen's brother's dad - her ex-step-dad - and in most of them, Gwen is frowning and pulling a strop. She's never explained why she hates her brother's dad - why she hates family photos. Not even after her stepdad left and her mother feared the worst.

Apart from the leftover bowls, trays and plates, everything seems normal - well as normal as things can be after a teen-only movie night. Naturally, having Leshawna snoring away across the room is not at all normal for me. Let alone sleeping next to Geoff for a night (well to my parents' knowledge it isn't).

A part of me wonders if my parents even know about my antics. Somewhere within me wants to say no, but I feel like they do. My parents always have always had a funny quirk of knowing when I'm doing the wrong thing. I doubt it would stop now.

Ignoring my overthinking morning-brain, I brush Geoff's arm aside and get up. It takes a few seconds of blind searching to get my phone, the tangle of joint chargers and phones making the task especially difficult, but once I find it I immediately check the time. 6:00 am. My eyes widen. Crap. I need to get everyone else up or we're all gonna be late for school. If that happens, we'll all be grounded for god knows how long.

"Wake up!" I whisper-yell at DJ, the closest person to me, shaking his arm. "We've got around two hours to get ready for school!" Once DJ wakes up, the process is repeated for everyone else. Well, we attempt to repeat it for everyone else but Geoff and Duncan remain stubborn in the face of waking up. Only Leshawna chooses to seize the opportunity of waking up quickly.

"Damn..." She mumbles as she pulls off her bonnet, already rubbing at her eyes. A deep yawn escapes her mouth as she rummages in her bag, pulling out some clothes. "I'm gonna go and claim that first shower of the day." Within seconds she starts half-shuffling out the room, humming something under her breath. When Leshawna leaves, DJ follows, saying that he'll fix breakfast before heading to shower since we're all useless in the kitchen.

Since Geoff and Duncan are still snoozing away, I decide to grab a shower in the second bathroom and would attempt waking them up again after. So, grabbing some clean clothes from my bag, I head upstairs and take a good amount of time getting ready for the day ahead. By the time I come back downstairs, Gwen is awake and ready, trying to wake Duncan up. Geoff has ended up seizing the downstairs bathroom after Leshawna, just missing me.

"Wake up, or I'll kick your ass out," Gwen grumbles, playfully punching Duncan in the arm - which ended up back-firing.

"Nah, I'm a bit too comfortable," Duncan mumbles back, his face buried in his pillow. He simply ignores Gwen's punches - well, he does until she punches him pretty hard and in retaliation he grabs her arm. They both end up toppling to the floor, laughing as they break out into a play fight. I could only shake my head in response, smiling fondly, before deciding to check on DJ in kitchen.

In the kitchen, DJ's completely in his element. Humming some reggae song under his breath, he mans the stove and frying pans with a grace I only seem to have when surfing. Waffles pop out of the waffle-maker a perfect golden brown, bacon isn't too crispy or too greasy, and he even sneaks in small personal favourites of all of ours. I always find DJ in the kitchen to be a fascinating experience, a magical sight, and whenever we have sleepovers, I always find myself waking up just to see him cook.

"It should be done soon," DJ glances at me over his shoulder, whisking away at a bowl of eggs. Sugar is specked on his nose. "I've made french toast."

"No way..." I breathe, the words taken from my mouth. "Is there anything you can't cook?"

"Just ask and I'll provide," DJ gives a shy smile and bow. He instantly becomes extremely sheepish. "There's a reason why I know so much."

"Hey kids," Gwen's mum enters through the backdoor, her brown hair swept into a neat bun. Dark circles ring her eyes, betraying her fatigue, and after pinching a slice of DJ's french toast, she disappears to her room upstairs. Another night-shift. The poor woman must be exhausted...

Breakfast is officially served at around seven-thirty, DJ besting himself once more. Everyone is in attendance, even Duncan, and we all pig out while watching the daily trash that makes up this town's crappy news station. We all laugh at the blonde reporter and her 'charming' male counterpart, the more stupid headlines of the day making us all scoff from time to time. However, despite how relaxed and chilled everyone else is, I have this weird feeling forming in my gut. A strange niggling, gnawing feeling. Like a worm wriggling its way through my bowels. Nerves.

You see, like every year of high school, cheer tryouts for the older students begin from today. Most years I pass over the idea of cheering in a bright spandex uniform with an incredibly short skirt, but this year I feel like trying it out. I feel like seeing what is so glamorous about waving two puffy pom-poms in the air and supporting the meathead jocks of our school.

So, in a spur of the moment decision, I had decided to put my name down on the tryout sheet yesterday, stupidly not thinking the whole idea through.

Now I have to deal with the consequences.

But what are the consequences? What makes me nervous? It definitely isn't Heather - she doesn't really scare me anymore after dealing with her crap for three years straight. In fact, she's lost more and more of her intimidating nature as time has wore on. But then again, maybe it is Heather. Ever since Freshman year she's been hellbent on meddling with everyone's lives. If I join the cheer squad, then it would be an easy in for Heather to manipulate the situation. She could use me to get to Gwen and Leshawna.

I frown as the reporters continue to chatter on the TV. Yeah, Heather could use me. She could use me to gain something she couldn't before. Gwen and Leshawna have said that I'd be fine, that I'm not like the other bubble-brained blondes of our year, but I'm not too certain of that right now. Not when you can never predict how Heather will behave.

For the rest of breakfast, I slowly work my way through my plate. It suddenly seems like such a waste, especially when I don't feel particularly hungry, but I can't stomach the thought of throwing it away. Not when DJ made it. So I force the food down.

At eight, we all left for school. I carpool with Leshawna and Geoff, DJ deciding to walk with Gwen, and Duncan saying something about forgetting his bag. Honestly, I think it's just a bullshit excuse to ditch, but I don't have the energy to challenge him on it.

After getting to school, Leshawna more or less sprints off, saying something about meeting up with someone, leaving me alone with Geoff. Just like every usual morning.

We wait in silence by the entrance, an odd thing for us, and I can't help but feel disjointed as I burrow further into my worry. I just can't shake the feeling of impending doom, of incoming danger, that is currently festering within me. I can't forget about Heather, or her schemes, or her vendetta against Gwen. I can't forget about the toxicity of high school, of being being popular or even the way people look at you just for being one type of person.

I can't forget what being a cheerleader means.

Breaking my thoughts, Geoff places a kiss on my forehead. His arm squeezes my waist. "You'll do fine, babe, don't stress about it."

"Thanks," I sigh, my muscles all un-bunching at just the sound of his voice. For once, I allow myself to relax, breathing out and taking his advice not to stress. Stressing will not help. "But... how did you know I was stressing?"

"You had that look on your face," Geoff shrugs, looking like he lacks an actual explanation. Instead he simply smiles, easy going, nonchalant. A breath of fresh air compared to all the dozens of complicated faces I see each day, each and every one masking different things.

"You're the best," Is all I manage to say. After that, the damned bell decides to ring, signalling the start to the dreaded school day.

Sadie's P.O.V

"We're gonna smash this, Sadie!" Katie flashes me a broad smile, her small, tanned hand squeezing my shoulder. "I can feel it! We're gonna absolutely smash this!"

Today is the day of cheer squad tryouts - a day that most teenage girls anticipate and dread - and this year Katie and I have decided to finally give it a shot. Yep, that's right: we've decided to try out for the cheer squad. For months, we've both been practicing routines and following regimes to improve ourselves. Days were spent stretching, trying to gain more flexibility, while also mastering the art of improve performance and coordination.

In all, preparing for cheer tryouts had made the summer exhausting, but it was worth it. Preparing makes us feel ready; preparing is a way of showing Heather we are serious.

But no amount of preparation changes your body type...

"Maybe..." I mumble in response, glancing down the line of gathered girls. "But I'm not too sure about me."

You see, I don't have the most generic and attractive body shape. Naturally, I'm a wide-boned and big-berthed girl, my mum always saying a girl needed meat on her bones. That led to me being pretty round in shape, chubby, fat. I'm not a perfect hourglass or a neatly rounded pear; I'm not a stick-thin rectangle or an angular inverted triangle. I'm a big and chunky ball; I'm a flabby, plus-sized gal. And chubby, plus-sized girls tend not to make the squad.

"Don't stress about it, Sadie," Katie tuts, shaking her head. Once again, her hand squeezes my shoulder in support, her arm tightening in our joint loop. "Your talent will force Heather to sign you up!"

"Yeah, it will," A smile spreads on my lips, but I don't feel like it's genuine. It's too tight - too unnatural. My lips feel like they are stretched thin to crack and my eyes refuse to crinkle. Even my cheeks feel heavy and thin.

After another ten minutes of waiting, the line for tryouts cuts down significantly. Many girls leave the queue, rolling their eyes and muttering things about wasting time. Most remain, chewing on gum or snacking on food. Many of them are plain and forgettable nobodies, the girls that could easily blend into a crowd, and I notice that most of them speak about Heather in an idolizing or fearful way. None of them are against her.

I mean, it's not odd to be surrounded by Heather's supporters. They're everywhere and anywhere, being part of every single facet of school, but they never usually group together. Many of them are usually spread evenly through the social groups, hidden conspicuously. But today, they're all gathered.

Odd.

"Katie and Sadie!"

Our names are called next and we enter the auditorium. Like always, it is huge and vast and empty, Heather seated at a table with two other members of the cheer squad. One of them is Courtney, the more analytical and serious member. The other is Lindsay, the more socially bubbly and friendly member. Balancing them out is Heather herself, her say obviously being much more powerful than theirs combined.

I can't help but gulp when I see her - her clipboard - her long raven hair making me think of how I wouldn't be accepted. Wouldn't belong. All because of my stupid body weight and size. I'd be lucky if they even give me a chance to try.

"I see that you two have a joint routine," Heather speaks, her eyes critically scanning her clipboard. Her red nails tap against the table, "Looks pretty complicated too," She then places the board down, giving us a broad smile, "Let's see if you can really pull it off then."

Now my heart sticks in my throat. It beats fast - too fast - in my chest as I follow Katie onto the stage, right in front of the three watching judges. Each footstep I take creaks the boards, making me self-conscious, and when Courtney pulls a face my chest pulls tighter. Air. I need to breathe. I need to count. I need to breathe. One. Two. Thr-

"Calm down, Sadie," Katie whispers, linking her arm with mine. Softening, her brown eyes crinkle with concern as she looks from Heather to me. "They're watching!"

Nodding, I gulp and take in a new deep inhale of air. Immediately, I feel my heart calming down, the tightness of my chest loosening up just a little. The creaking of the stage is minute in my mind, rendered completely useless, and for a second it is just me and Katie in the auditorium. For a second, I am not being judged by a panel of girls that rely entirely on appearance to make their decisions. My heart slows in my chest.

I can do this.

Everything becomes a blur in my mind. One moment, I am breathing in and calming myself down, the next I am automatically following the routine Katie and I have practiced time and time again. Lift my arm, turn my ankle, make sure to twist smoothly: everything is lost in a jumble of autonomy and daze, my body moving itself without my mind's interference. When Katie goes for the jump, I easily catch her and hold up her weight; when I have to do the splits, I barely feel the pull of my joints.

By the time I am aware again, I feel the shortness of breath that comes with exercise. My chest is heaving and my face is wide with a big, white smile. I don't remember when I started smiling, when my body felt so exhilarated, but I don't question it as I look at Heather and her panel. I don't question it when I catch their impressed smiles and the way Courtney jots something down on her paper. Even Lindsay looks like she's about to applaud.

"That was amazing!" Heather grins, standing up from her seat. A few tiny claps are given from her manicured hands. "Just amazing!"

"OMG really? Thanks!" Katie is quick to thank her, express her gratitude, but I am still frozen. Dazed. They really like it. They... like it.

Heather nods in response and continues to chatter about technique and skill and presentation, but it all falls silent in my ears. I am still dazzled. I am still lost. I'm unbelieving that they are actually impressed with me: a fat, chubby, plus-sized girl. Girls like me always have the last pick in PE, girls like me rarely had lab partners. But now, I am being valued. Now, I am actually being seen for what I could achieve and do.

This has to be a dream...

Soon, Katie is leading the way out of the auditorium. She is excited - I can hear and see it in the way she practically bounces with each step. Her tanned arms are together, her hands balled into frantic fists as she fights the urge to squeal. I know that as soon as we leave she will explode; she will squeal and smile and sing all day. I will too. Eventually. I just need to get rid of this feeling, this weird daze I feel.

Just as we are about to leave, a hand stops me. I turn to see that it belongs to Heather, her red nails gleaming in the fluorescent light.

"Sadie, is it?" She tilts her head, raising a brow and once again I feel like my world is alight. All I can do is manage a nod in response. "Well, Sadie, I think you were perfect today. Much better than your friend. So much better, in fact, that I want to offer you a guaranteed spot on the squad."

A guaranteed spot? For real?! This has to be a dream! Someone needs to pinch me - or wake me up. There's no way in real life that Heather is offering me a freaking spot on the cheer squad! No freaking way.

"Really?" Strained. My voice sounds really dry and strained. I should drink some water, but I left it outside with my bag. But Heather doesn't seem to notice, or mind, as she only nods in response, still wearing that wide smile of hers.

"Mhm," Heather hums, a hand resting lazily on her hip. "But of course, a spot doesn't come for free."

"Of course," I agree, nodding automatically. I cough, trying to clear my throat, but I only succeed in sounding like I've failed to say something. My cheeks warm. "Nothing comes free, right?"

"Right," Heather nods, clicking her tongue. Her smile is still there, still wide, her grey eyes glittering with intrigue. "So I want you to promise me something. You know, if you wanna keep this guaranteed spot on the squad."

"Of course," Another nod. I inwardly cringe. Is that all I can do right now? Nod. "Anything. I'll do anything."

"Great!" Heather's hands clasp together, and the slapping sound they make causes me to jump slightly. She only chuckles lightly in response. "What I need you to do isn't much. It's just to lose a bit of that weight you have, really simple right?

It is simple. Really simple. I've been trying to lose weight for years now, but every time I try to something makes me relapse. When I was younger, it was my mother reassuring me; a few years back, it was because people began to mock me about it; last year it was because I was comfortable. But now, now that I have a real motivator to lose weight, I will finally achieve my goal. I will finally become an attractive, suitable weight.

"Very simple," I nod, humming. My own smile grows. "I'll make sure to lose as much as possible."

"Perfect!" Heather grins once more before smoothly turning on her heel and heading back to the table. It takes me a moment to regather myself and open the door, remembering that Katie is probably wondering what held me up. My suspicions are proven correct when I exit the auditorium, her concerned face popping out from the wall beside the doors.

Immediately, she links her arm with mine, "So? What did she say?"

"I've got a few weeks to lose this," I smile triumphantly, gesturing to my body. Katie's arm tightens around mine, contrasting her helpful smile as she nods and pulls me toward our next destination - the science department.

"I'll help you," She insists, thinking ahead as always. "It's what BFFFLs do. Plus, someone's gotta make sure you don't relapse again."

Her jab is playful, but I can't help but feel like it hit deep - very deep. Katie knows that losing weight is a hard topic for me. Being a natural chunky girl has always had its strain on me and our friendship. She never gets how hard it is to be different, to be someone who is ridiculed all because of their genetics. Unlike me, Katie is tall and tan and perfect. Her head of thick, black hair and thin limbs always makes her more popular than me. They always make her fit in more than me.

So, sometimes, she forgets how hard it is for me to be like her. She forgets how hard it is for me to be normal.

But she doesn't need to worry about that; she worries about enough. She worries too much. So I'll leave my internal dilemma for my own brain. It's only fair. I can't have Katie solving all of my problems for me. Not now that we're Seniors. I need to grow a back bone.

"Thanks, Katie," I manage to give her a smile in response, linking my arm tighter with hers. "You're the best friend ever."

"I know," She laughs, her smile bright. Her dark hair shines.

At least one of us can smile properly.

Dakota's P.O.V

Finally! The crappy school day is over.

Sighing, I stretch as I open my front door, glad to finally be home. I don't know why, but school is always so long and stressful these days. Unlike in the previous years, the atmosphere has grown tense in Wawanakwa high. There are a lot more people peering anxiously at Heather, skeptically smiling in response to her grins, and it really puts me on edge. Like really. It makes me wonder just what she's got planned for this year. After all, Heather isn't the sort to be so... kind.

As soon as the door swings open, I'm assaulted by my bouncing cocker spaniel, Daisy. Like always, her golden fur shines, her white daisy collar buried within it. Excitedly, she bounds up to me, leaping to place her two front paws on my legs. My mother says something from the kitchen and I hear Daddy chuckle in response - I'm guessing Daisy's alerted them to my return.

"Hello, Daisy!" I can't hide my grin as I gather the wriggling dog into my arms, snuggling up to her. A finger taps her dark, shiny nose. "You miss me?"

A wet tongue licks my cheek in response. I giggle. Yep, she's missed me. She always does whenever I go to school. I can't blame her though - it is a very long time away. Setting Daisy down, I give her a nice hearty scratch behind the ears before deciding to make my way to my room.

Like most young, rich heiresses, my room and home are, well, luxurious. Everything is state of the art, new and imported from anywhere in the world. Big, grand walls that are lined with foreign art and crystal pieces; shiny, bright lights that change colour; a vast, golden dining room - yeah, my family lives well. Figures though. Daddy is a pretty successful and wealthy man, plus my mother made her mark before retiring.

But my room isn't like the rest of the house. Sure, it's still expensive and shiny and grand, but it's very simple in comparison. Obviously, it's themed after my love of television and filming and directing, some of my posters and such including signed pieces from celebrities, but it's like every other teenager's room. I have a bed, a desk and closet. I have a colour scheme, a corner for my school stuff and an area for my hobbies.

I'm not like those snobs who have a whole private cinema... Well, I do have one of those. Heh.

Once I arrive in my room, I immediately slide into my desk chair and roll it to my desk. I forgot to tidy up after last night - specifically some late night homework and midnight snacking - so a few wrappers and papers are left over. I brush them aside. Right now, I need to focus. I need to be at my prime if I want to beat Sam's stupid high score. Yep, I'm a female gamer. Take it in. We're not all a waste a space, you know.

But even if I'm proud, my secret gamer life needs to remain like that: secret. Heather can't find out. Ever. She'll pulverize me if she knows that I game. To her, gaming is a nerdy and geeky sport, a thing that the unpopular weirdos and meathead jocks do. Ladies, girls of a high social standing, do not game. We do not pick up controllers and challenge guys to take us down. We are the ones asking and batting our lashes, begging to learn so that we can date a guy. We aren't actually masters at gaming.

Turning on my computer, I try to ignore the idea of Heather - her expectations. She's the last thing I need to focus on right now. My main goal is beating Sam's score and making my fans and followers love me even more. I don't need to worry about Heather and her stupid expectations. I don't need to worry about school and the way people could judge me. I need to worry about my gameplay and views, then I can worry about everything else.

After booting up, I automatically record my screen, making sure to capture it in the highest quality possible. After all, my fans deserve the best possible quality. It's the least I could do for them after their never-ending support.

"Hey guys, Pinkie here!" A grin splays on my lips, fueled by the loving comments of my followers. "Like I promised last week, I'm gonna try out the new PC update of Cryno! Hopefully, it lives up to the rumours and they added those new weapons."

For the next few hours, I solidly work on denting Sam's score - which I perfectly succeed in doing. Oh, I should explain about Sam! Silly me. Sam, my best guy friend, was the one to introduce me to serious gaming. He's a gamer dude, pretty smart in class, and when I was failing in science, he helped me with my homework. That led to us becoming pretty good friends and picking up each other's habits. So, I started to game regularly, doing a few streams and videos with him.

But of course, it's our little secret. My reputation is too precious to be crumbled. I need it to sustain my goal of reaching fame.

Interrupting my gaming sesh, my phone floods with a million notifications, all of them to do with texts, comments and posts. Removing my headphones, I sigh and pick up my phone, reality already bleeding into my once blissful afternoon.

*3 New Messages*: From - Heather, Sam and Anne-Maria

Figures. I don't mind Sam and Anne-Maria texting me - they're my friends - but when Heather texts me, it usually means she wants me to do something. No, scratch that; she always wants me to do something. To Heather, I am disposable, a tool, and she could use me to gain anything she wants. Since I am pretty close with the lower grades, as well as majority of our grade, Heather always wants to use my connections to gain something. To use something.

Ever since middle school we've been in an endless cycle of back and forth. Through the later half of middle school, I would be Heather's friend, go along with her schemes, and she eventually grew tired of me. When that happened, when Heather dumped me like trash, I had scrimped and scraped at my few friends who didn't care about her opinion. I went through a period of time where I felt like an outsider, a nobody, and I definitely didn't like how it felt. I hated it. Loathed it.

I don't ever want to be like that again; I don't want to be alone again.

Breathing deeply, I close my eyes and skip past Heather's messages. They can wait. Right now, I want to stay within the temporary bliss of gaming and friends and teenage life. I want to think about happy things, good things, and focusing on Heather will not help that. All Heather ever brings is bad. Loneliness.

Scrolling through the notifications, I select Sam's first, knowing that he'd be someone who could distract me. He always does that; he makes me think of different things. I don't know why, but just being around Sam let the troubles and doubts of yesterday all become lost in the present - in the hope of tomorrow. Maybe it's because I could be myself around him; perhaps it's because he is the sort of friend I've never had before, a real good one. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure.

*New Message*: 5:50pm - Sam

Sam - Hey Dakota. You still up for Cryno on Friday?

A smile. I can't help it. Fridays are always the best, especially since it's my and Sam's reserved day for Cryno. For those of you new to the gaming world, Cryno is the latest and by far the best online battle-royal game made by the leading tech company, GiGa. Ranging from online multiplayer mode, RPG and even a fully thought through and perfected story mode, Cryno is a game that's quickly climbing up the ranks in the gaming world.

When it had first come out, Sam was a little skeptical towards playing it. He stated that it's safer to stick with all-time classics like MinerBuild and Fortress. But when he caught me playing Cryno, his opinion on it appeared to change. From then on, it's become our main game.

Dakota - Of course. Won't miss it for the world x

No response. After a few minutes of waiting, I come to the conclusion that Sam is probably busy - most likely eating dinner - and so he couldn't distract me from real life. That means I have to change targets and try my luck with good old Anne-Maria.

"Hopefully, she's not busy," A long sigh escapes as I flick to our chat, already regretting my decision. Like always, drama is following Anne-Maria. Now, I like drama, it keeps me on my toes and puts me in the spotlight, but Anne-Maria's drama is always Heather-related. Whether it's due to a stupid, petty clash or some big, all-out brawl, Anne-Maria always has something to say about Heather and her haggle of clones. Sometimes, I love her for it (it helps me stay in the loop of things); other times, like now, I resent her for it.

*New Message*: 6:10pm - Anne-Maria

Anne-Maria - Yo, Kota. I'm throwing a little get together on Saturday wanna come?

Huh. For once Annie's not totally focused on ruining Heather. Blinking, I frown. Something's definitely up.

Dakota - Sure x. You want me to tell Heather?

Anne-Maria - Nah. I wanna keep it low-key, so only you and a plus one. 'Kay?

Me and a plus one, huh? Yeah, something's definitely up. I've known Anne-Maria for a long time, like a super long time, and I know that she doesn't make her party lists exclusive. Like Geoff, Anne-Maria is the sort to welcome anyone of any walk of life - cause parties are always merrier with more. Plus with her recent departure from the Squad, there's no way Anne-Maria's cool with Heather. If anything, she must want to jam her head onto a stick.

Dakota - Alright. I won't tell, promise x. Just be careful.

Anne-Maria - Y?

I frown. Did she really not know? I thought everyone in school knows that Heather's brief period of calm is only because she's plotting. I mean, Heather was never calm before and she can never change. She's been like this since middle school.

Dakota - She wants revenge.

Anne-Maria - Don't worry about me. I'll b fine. I can take that stick in a fight.

Involuntarily, I lean forward and snort, nearly dropping my phone. I forgot about that: Heather's inability to fight. She hides it well beneath her big and bad persona, her threats and threatening appearance always diffusing any chance of a proper fight. But when it comes down to actual combat, Heather is completely terrible at it. She couldn't win a fight against Lindsay if she tried and Lindsay lost to a cat once.

Dakota - Ok, I trust you x

Out of nowhere, my phone buzzes in my hand and displays a new notification, Heather's name highlighted at the top of it. Instinctively, I roll my eyes and mumble. Of course, she would notice that I'm online right now. Of course she would try to talk to me.

Huffing, I flick to our chat and check her latest messages.

*New Messages*: Heather - 6:20, 6:00, 5:50

Heather - Dakota we need to talk.

Heather - Hello? Respond to your damn texts!

Heather - I know you're online.

Grimacing, I look at the messages one by one, slowly opening my keyboard and gliding my fingers over the screen. I'm not sure how to respond, especially since she sounds pissed, but my brain somehow thinks of something.

Dakota - Sorry! I was busy helping my mum, lol. What do you want me to do?

Internally, I cringe at the sudden overly enthusiastic tone of my text, knowing that it is way too peppy to be my own. Yet, a response, a calm one, is given to me in record speed, my automatic text seeming to be the kind of answer Heather expects.

Heather - Oh. Didn't know, sorry. I just wanted help.

Now I'm concerned. When Heather wants help it means that she wants to use my social connections. It means she has something bad planned. Something terrible. And I don't want to be part of that. Not if it means that anyone is going to get hurt.

Yet, like the attention whore I am, I respond exactly as I should, knowing that if I don't I'll be neglected and forgotten. Thrown away.

Dakota - With what?

Heather - Can't say over the phone. I'll tell you tomorrow.

Dakota - K.

Sighing, I push away from my desk and leave my phone on it. A hand runs through my hair, my eyes closing as I lean back in my chair and just breathe. Think. I didn't imagine that teenage life would be as hard as it is. I thought it'd be glamorous, like the life of those teens in movies, but in reality it's just terrible. Shitty. I wish someone had warned me about the dangers of being a popular girl, of being part of a Squad.

Maybe then, I wouldn't be trapped between being myself and being perfect, shiny and pink.

"Dakota, honey," My mum appears at the door, her soft smile peeping through the crack. "Dinner's done."

I can tell from her voice that she's concerned, worried. She has been ever since middle school. Ever since I buried myself deeper and deeper within my desire to be famous. I always tell her it's due to my dream to be a big star, someone important, but I feel like she knows better. I feel like my mum knows that I don't want to feel alone. Abandoned. Maybe that's why she always checks on me now: she wants to make sure I'm not alone.

"Thanks mum," I send her back a smile, a tired one. "I'll be down in a moment."

A small nod and I am left in my room again, the monitor and silence being my only company. My only friends.

Friends? What is the real value of them? I've had a ton over the span of my life. Best friends, fake friends, frenemies, you name them, I've had them. All my life I've been surrounded by people, by those who complimented and gushed about me, but never have I had someone real, true. Never have I had someone I could be myself around. Until I met Anne-Maria and Sam.

Getting up, I turn off my monitor and head downstairs. I want to show everyone my true self, to expose my inner shell, but I can't. I can't be real because it would mean being abandoned and losing the safety of popularity and the masses. It would mean losing the protection of my tough outer shell.

Tomorrow, Heather'll want me to do something unthinkable. I could just feel it, knowing Heather. But as much as I don't want to, tomorrow I will do it. Tomorrow. I will do as she asks. Why? Because I don't want to be left alone.

I don't want to be forgotten, just like how I was in middle school.