A/N: Right now I'm focusing on my rewrite works because I'm trying to cut down on the number of WIP stories I have right now. Since rewrites are the most simple - because plot work and such is already outlined - I figured that I might as well get them written up first. Set number of chapters, manageable workload and no space for overflowing words: perfect for my overloaded schedule!

Anyway, I'll cut it short there for now. Enjoy the latest update my dears.

Till next time,

D.L.D

Responses to reviews:

Gucci Mane LaFlare - I actually haven't watched the 2023 season yet. I just haven't had the time unfortunately. But I'm glad it all links up quite nicely, even with my lack of knowledge. Also, you're totally right: Heather does not like wholesome.

Blood vs Water

Courtney's P.O.V

Being cruel is not something I ever aspired to be when I was younger. When I was a little girl, unaware as to how the real world works - as well as the teenage scum I'd have to navigate in high school - I'd thought that being cruel and evil was something only villains could do. Playing by the rules means being a good person. Being a good person means that you aren't cold and cruel. Being a good person means that you do good.

Younger me was a fool to think like that.

Playing by the rules, the new rules shaped by the new world I live in, make me a cruel person. When Heather tells me to jump, I jump. When Heather tells me to be evil, I am the most evil person on the planet. In order to do well, in order to survive, I have to listen to Heather. Until I'm able to uproot her, to overtake the position of power she holds over us all, I have to be like her best friend. Even if it means hurting other people.

When Sadie rejoins us, a blubbering mess of makeup and tears, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. While we queue, I try to comfort her. Patting her shoulder, assuring her that Katie meant none of what she said, I try my best to soothe the burn of an argument with a friend. However, I fail miserably. So does Lindsay. And Dakota? That idiot ran after Katie, rushing out a hasty goodbye and vanishing within a second.

If everything was different, if I didn't have to be on Heather's good side, then I would have ran after Katie too. I would have apologised to them both, told them the truth behind Heather's intentions, before it was too late. But now it is too late. Now is not a time where I could do what younger me would have done, trying to be the best person she could be. Present me needs to succeed; present me needs to be cruel for the greater good. So I forget about Katie.

All of my attention goes onto Sadie. Comforting her, listening as she explains how Katie trash-talked about us, I try my best to push Heather's agenda, to make Sadie think that she is safe with us. That is all I could do. That is all I am allowed to do. If I want to survive, I have to follow the rules.

"Well, don't worry Sadie," Heather is smiling again, that false, sweet thing that does not look natural at all. Even her voice, higher in pitch and cooing, sounds like a fictional idea. "Even if Katie doesn't like us, you're still our friend."

Our friend: those are the types of seeds that Heather is sowing. Distrust and envy have always been two tools she uses best. That's how she managed to take down former friendships between other people. That's how she managed to get me here, ensnared in her tight grasp and forced to carry out her bidding. Heather is skilled at using people's emotions. Heather would always be the best at emotional manipulation.

"Really?" Sadie blinks, peering at us almost like an abandoned puppy left out in the rain. Again, my gut spikes with guilt. This isn't right. It has never been right. But I still have to do it.

"Really," Heather nods and I find myself nodding along with her. All of us nod because when Heather is here we all act as one. To keep the act going, to make it seem like we are this perfect group of perfect friends, we have to act as one. That is the rule and that has always been the rule. That's how it has always been, ever since Heather first took me under her wing, promising me that I'd always be protected by her. She'd make sure I got everything I ever wanted. All I had to do was follow her rules.

Breaking my thoughts, the sharp melody of my ringtone pierces the air. Shaking my head, I pull it out of my purse to see a familiar name pop up - my accomplice. Pieces clicking into place, I give a sheepish smile as I point to my phone and glance at Heather. There's a reason why I set my ringtone for them to the same one as my mother; Heather would grow suspicious if anyone else called me so frequently.

"I've gotta take this call," I let out a sigh, trying to sound annoyed as I step away from the queue. Attempting to appear apologetic, I give a small, sheepish smile, "It's my mother. I'll catch up with you guys later though. Eight o'clock, right?"

"Yep," Heather nods, something wicked gleaming in her eyes as she links arms with Sadie. "We'll turn our slumber party into a pamper Sadie party!"

"Bye Courtlyn!" Lindsay gives an enthusiastic wave toward my direction, a beam smile on her innocent face. All I could do was roll my eyes - holding back a face-palm at her overwhelming enthusiasm. That blonde dummy would never get that our friendship was just one of convenience. She'd never understand that we all just all use each other, backstabbing and betraying every member of our own friend group just to stay afloat.

None of us are real friends and none of us would ever be.

Sparing a final glance at the group, I turn on my heel and walk away. Even as I leave, Heather is keeping up her act, providing Sadie with comforting pats to her back and whispering something into her ear. Everything about that scene bugs me. Makes my gut crawl with discomfort. But I hold it down. Until I'm safe, far away from Heather's watching eyes, I can't feel anything.

Nothing could ever compare to the relief I feel once Heather is out of sight. Quickly answering the phone call, pressing the device close to my ear, I can't help but let out a relieved sigh as I exited the bustling atmosphere of the central food court.

"Sounds like you just ran a marathon," The voice on the other side of the line chuckles, definitely amused.

"You try working with Heather," Snapping couldn't be helped - not when I am so tightly wound up already. Shaking my head, I try to control the agitation in my tone. This person is my one shot at taking Heather down; I couldn't fuck this up. "Sorry. I'm just a bit stressed and could do with some good news. Please tell me that you found something good."

"Of course I did," My accomplice sounds smug, self-assured. Beyond the screen I could picture their dazzling smile, lighting up their face and impossibly gorgeous eyes. Heather. Alejandro. Countless other beautiful people. Who knew such beautiful faces could hide such deep deception? "After doing some digging, I managed to track down one of Heather's relatives. She's got a tape that you might wanna see."

"Sounds promising," Skepticism couldn't help but slip into my tone. Too used to be deceived, too used to being the scapegoat, I'm not sure who to trust anymore. Is there even anything to trust anymore? Ever since I've dumped Duncan that fateful afternoon in the rain, I wasn't sure what to do anymore. He was my compass; I subconsciously followed his direction. Without him I am clueless, wandering a narrow path with nothing but uniform concrete slabs.

"I'm sending you the address now," My accomplice seems to sense my doubt as I feel my phone vibrate within my palm. "She doesn't live too far away from you."

Now that is really promising. Almost too perfect to be true. However, I am desperate and desperate people will always sink to desperate measures.

"Ok thanks," I manage to get out, humming a little. "I'll check it out."

Then the call's finished. Slipping my phone back into my bag, I couldn't help but release a sigh as I head toward the mall's exit. Everything is just so skewed these days. Nothing is as it seems and nothing would ever return to as it was. Sometimes I do miss the past, days spent being genuine with others because no-one really cared about the flimsy superficial things. Now everything is superficial; now everything revolves around Heather and fitting her perfect image.

Waiting for the bus is a nightmare - as it always is - and I curse myself for making Heather my ride. However, waiting gives me the chance to think, to remind myself of why I'm doing this. Heather deserves this. Gwen... I'm honestly not sure yet if she deserves it. But a lot of me, so much of me, is leaning toward that other side. Both of them have done so much to me, both of them twisted and twirled my heart within their hands.

How could I ever forgive that?

*Six Years Ago*

"So we're still on for tonight?" Anxious and uncertain, Gwen glances at me with nervous dark eyes.

Whenever we plan a movie night, joined with a completely girls only sleepover, she always has her reservations. There's always that sense of uncertainty with her, a deep distrust that ran through her soul. Gwen always has to double check. Gwen always has to go over the details with me, biting into her lip as she mumbles out her own insecurities. Almost as if she were scared of what I'd say next. Almost as if... she doesn't trust me.

"Of course," Brushing aside the discomfort in my gut, the sense of being mistrusted, I muster the biggest smile possible. "Tonight is all about us and movies. Nothing is gonna ruin that!"

That seems to relieve her, make a smile stretch on her shy and bashful face, "Ok. I'll be there then."

Then the bus is stopping and Gwen is saying goodbye, gathering her backpack and scurrying off the bus so she wouldn't miss her stop. Three stops before mine. Right in the middle of the more economic neighbourhood, filled with smaller houses that contained tiny backyards and cramped streets, buildings pressed together by their sides and split by flimsy metal chain-link fences. Gwen and I are worlds apart; somehow we still managed to be friends.

"Bye Gwen," I breathe the words out onto the glass, sending a solemn wave her way.

Next thing I know the bus is rolling away, sailing farther along the street until it turns a corner and heads toward my neighbourhood. Flashy, classy, filled with homes that had front and back gardens: my neighbourhood really is a world away from hers. My neighbourhood is somewhere that people like Gwen would only catch a glimpse of during Halloween, trick-or-treating in costumes and hoping to get someone who handed out full-sized bars. No wonder why she feels like she doesn't belong.

That evening feels even more disjointed once Gwen arrives. Even though we manage to settle down and get straight into sleepover matters - pillow fights and movies and girl talk - everything feels off. Like it's been knocked out of balance. Every conversation feels like it is being carried by my input; Gwen herself having shrunk into her own shell, either responding with quiet or completely stand-offish responses. By the time we go to sleep (nine PM which was really early for our usual time) I am convinced that something has happened. Someone has troubled Gwen.

And I was going to find out who.

"Gwen," Eating breakfast with her has never felt so awkward - not when she's been like a sister to me. Today, however, Gwen is silent, pushing her cereal around her bowl of milk with a spoon. "What's bothering you?"

"Bothering me?" Gwen blinks, staring up from her bowl and focusing owlish eyes on me. A clear sign of her panic. "W-what makes you think something's bothering me?"

"You've been acting strange for the past few days," There is no point in hiding the truth - not when Gwen would avoid it as much as she could for as long as she could. Both she and I know that she could hide her feelings for as long as it takes a metal can to decompose. "I'm worried about you."

Shifting the wariness, my words seem to jog something within her brain. But, as quickly as Gwen thaws out, she freezes back over again, shaking her head as she plasters a strained, stretched smile on her face. One that tugs at her forehead and crinkles the corners of her eyes a little too much. One she always uses whenever we're in class, forced to keep up the image of Isla Bonney's perfection to any passing visitors.

"It's nothing major, I promise," Is her answer. Spooning some cereal into her mouth, she uses the moment of silence to think, gathering her words. "I'm just getting used to having a new step-dad is all."

Wanting that to be the answer more than anything else, I decide to believe it. In that moment, seeing how something is eating away at my best friend, I just want to believe that she is telling me the truth. Really, I should have been more skeptical. Behind those eyes begging me to not question it further, I should have seen the scared and frightened girl within them; I should have seen that she would cling to anything, anyone, wiling to give her the affection she craves.

Even if we agreed that someone was off limits.

*Present Day*

Sucking in a deep breath, I try to steel myself as I knock on the deep red door of 228 Blackwell Drive. Golden metal numbers glint back at me, hammered into the wooden arc above the stained glass windows welded into the door. One glance at this place and you could tell that the homeowners have money; one look at the area and you could tell that they are most certainly members of the upper middle class - if not the upper class itself.

Of course Heather's family would live in an area like this: safe, wealthy and boasting lovely properties. Only the best for the best and naturally the entire Chang family tree would strive to get the best out of this crappy town of ours.

"I'm guessing you're Courtney," Eyeing me suspiciously, a girl who is definitely not older than thirteen stands in the now open doorway. Raven hair falls from her head, cascading over her shoulders in a luxurious dark ponytail, as her hazel eyes narrow at me. Without the icy tone of voice, I could tell that her distrust is there; Heather's body language - as well as her tones of voice - seem to be a trait passed down the family gene pool.

"You must be Hannah," Holding out a hand for her to shake, I try to put on my most welcoming smile. Surprisingly, it fails.

"This way," Ignoring my attempt to shake hands, Hannah huffs as she rolls her eyes and turns away from the doorway, leaving the front door wide open. Talk about careless. Even if her neighbourhood is known as one of the safest in town!

Following Hannah, I carefully enter through the front door. Immediately I am met by a shoe rack, silently instructing me to follow the rules of the household that have clearly kept its pristine white carpets so bright for so long. Taking off my shoes - a pair of boots that serve well for fashion and purpose - I make sure to place them on the spot closest to the door. This is only meant to be a quick thing. A quick in and out thing. Nothing else.

"I heard my bitch of a cousin has been causing you some trouble," Hannah suddenly speaks, appearing with what looks like a bowl of candy. As I place my shoes down, she nods toward the staircase before travelling up them. "If you're looking for revenge, you've come to the right place, Court. I've been stockpiling blackmail for years just to get back at darling Heather-feather."

Never before have I come across someone who seems to hate their cousin so much - and I've met some of Duncan's extended relatives. Pure distaste seems to burn within Hannah's eyes as she leads me upstairs, straight to a room that is presumably her bedroom. Even after she's offered my candy, telling me to get comfy while she pulls out her laptop, I could still sense the pure malice oozing from her. Burning hatred.

Shivering couldn't be helped. Nor could feeling unsafe. Is it a family trait to just be evil?

"Alright, I've got the USB prepped," Grinning Hannah passes me a bright pink flower USB, the middle of it a sunny yellow colour. Cartoonish - definitely something that would belong to a thirteen year old, perhaps someone even younger. "We can view it now though, just to prove to you that it's worthwhile. Justin said you like to be thorough."

"And he's not wrong," I nod, now peering at the laptop screen as she turns it toward me.

Already lit up on the screen is an image of a sleeping Heather, her face covered by a pink sleeping mask and her leg hanging off the edge of her bed. Drool hung from the rim of her open mouth, her arm flung over her forehead. Some kind of medication was also on her nightstand - something that looked an awful lot like sleeping pills - and her blanket had been kicked off. At the end of the bed, almost as if waiting, is a scruffy-looking cat, its gaze intently watching Heather's sleeping face.

"This just looks like a cat video," Frowning, I peer a little more closely at the video. "Are you sure it's worth it?"

"Wait for it," Hannah chimes in, a devious smirk on her face.

So I wait. Clicking the play button, she kick-starts the video and immediately I see why Hannah has endorsed it the way she did: Heather is there, deep in sleep as her cat more or less makes-out with her sleeping face. Lick. Lick. Lick. Right on Heather's lips, wetting her lips and slipping into her open mouth, left to air-dry overnight. Not only that, but it cut to a clip of the cat earlier on in the day, licking away at his body as he groomed himself clean. After that is Heather, the next morning, remarking about how she slept incredibly well.

"Alright, this is decent," Nodding, I couldn't help but hum in approval. Yes, this would work nicely with the other material I already have stocked piled - well, the growing pile. I still need to crack that USB after all. "Thank you, Hannah."

"You're very welcome," Hannah smiles, seeming genuine as she reaches out to shake my hand. "I've also added a few extra perks and pics. Consider it a gift for being such a great client."

Stretching, I couldn't fight the smile that twitches onto my lips. I actually like this girl; she has this attitude that just melds well with mine. Business before anything else; getting shit done is the most important thing.

Shaking her hand, I smile too, "Thank you, Hannah. I'll be sure to use it."

All too soon I am back on the street, new USB secure in my bag and my phone pressed to my ear. On the other line is my accomplice, seeming smug and yet equally pleased that Hannah has managed to pull through for us both. Her relation to Heather is... a risky factor - especially due to their volatile-seeming relationship - but she definitely is a goldmine for blackmail. That girl has a fortune in Heather material.

"You actually did your job for once," I find myself smiling, congratulating him. "Well done."

"Anything to get back at Heather," My accomplice responds, almost chuckling. Beyond the line I could see him shaking his head, jet black hair moving like those dreamy models in TV ads. "She was wrong to expose my feelings that night."

"You didn't do a good enough job at hiding it," Snickering, I tease him. That is no secret: we all knew that he had liked me. All of us know that he would still jump over the moon for me. That was why I'd roped him into my revenge plans in the first place. "Still, I'm in a good mood. In one day we've managed to get half our plan finished. Now that the easy bit is done, the hard part is just keeping this secret until we need it."

"You're worried about that?" Laughing, my accomplice's chuckles fill the line. Each one sends butterflies into my stomach, summoned by the image of his gorgeous face crinkling with joy and amusement. So many of us had swooned when first faced with his beauty; now we all know that it is just a mask, a way to let our guards down. He is just as damaged as the rest of us. "Everyone at school still thinks that I'm a self-absorbed egotist and you're a preppy control freak. No-one's gonna suspect a thing."

"Don't count your chickens before they hatch," I warn, watching as a car rolls on by. Bright silver, a flash of the common colour blinds me as I could have sworn that I spot Duncan in the passenger seat. Shaking my head, I sigh, "We just need to make everyone think that we're the same as always. Maintain status quo."

Because that's all I could do, all I know how to do, after all these years. Pretending that everything is fine - even when it isn't - has always been my reality.

"Above all else, we can't let Heather find out."

Duncan's P.O.V

What happens when I get stuck with nothing to do? I end up with Ma, huddled in the front seat of her silver Kia as she drags me along for one of her mandatory shopping trips. Really I think she does it to get us both out of the house. That toxic shithole does tend to be a downer on the brain. Too much time spent around the Geezer leads to you feeling down, lost and out; maybe he's the reason why I couldn't be bothered to do shit most days.

"So," Eyes fixed on the road ahead, Ma begins the conversation. Like she always does.

If I had the option, we'd be stuck in silence. I don't like her kind of music. She absolutely loathes mine. To keep the peace we both promised not to use the radio or play any form of music when we were in the car together. In return I don't have to listen to her begging for me to sing along to some old pop song; Ma doesn't have to act like she's enjoying herself, her face tightly pinched with forced joy as a guitar solo blasted through the speakers.

In a way, it's fair. A win-win in a way. I mean, we both get what we kinda want.

"What is it?" I manage to grit out, raising a skeptical brow.

"I haven't seen Courtney for a while," There it is. The topic/cause of today's mother-son shopping trip. "Did something happen between you two?"

There's always something happening between us two. Whether it's a good thing or a bad thing, Courtney and I always have something happening. In the past it used to involve verbal arguments, clashing over everything that's possible to clash over. In the present, we simply aren't on talking terms - not after the stunt she pulled. Usually, no matter what, I'd still talk to her; I used to live to annoy the shit out of her.

But that changed this week. Now I don't even want to think about it.

"Just got tired of her shit is all," Is what I decide to say, trying to keep it as carefree as possible. I'm not meant to care; I never act like I care. "Don't worry about it."

"First off, language Mister," Ma frowns, shaking her head as we stop at a red light. Damn the traffic signals. Turning to face me, her features pressed with the universal concern of every nosy mother on the planet, she sighs, "Second, it's my job to worry, son."

"I'm telling you not to," Meaning I don't want to talk about it. At all. But Ma's never been very good at sensing when I want to drop a subject. That or she's never cared about me wanting to drop it. A lot of me wants to bet on the second option.

As if reading my thoughts, she grins as the lights flicker to green, "Not gonna listen."

'Stubborn old cow,' Biting back the words, I keep them to myself. Ma only means the best - even if she is trying to show it through the most annoying method possible. That is something her kids could all agree on: she is a bit too overbearing when it comes to helping her kids with anything. Although, we all secretly love her for it. I mean, you could ask the woman for anything and she'd be there, equipment at the ready and prepared to help you. Unlike a certain someone...

"I'm guessing you're single again then," Ma sighs once more, shaking her head. Part of me wants to make a comment on her being a shitty driver - just to even the odds. "A shame. I really thought she'd be the one."

"You said she'd last two weeks," Deadpanning, I immediately remember that day. As soon as she'd seen Courtney, Ma said she wouldn't last more than a week - if even two. Technically, she wasn't wrong; after about a week, Courtney and I went on our first unofficial split.

"And I wasn't wrong," Ma sings out, triumphant even at the expense of her own son. Almost as if she's proud of the fact that her son could be an unbearable asshole at times. "It takes real mettle to put up with your shit."

"Guess Gwen's made of mettle then," I shrug. Because it is more or less true. She's put up with me ever since we were kids, aimlessly causing trouble after school because we had nothing better to do. Not even Geoff could handle me for that long. "She's been around for more than ten years."

"How is Gwen?" Instantly, Ma kicks back into parent-mode. I shouldn't have brought up the G-word.

"Gwen is Gwen," Again, I shrug. Nothing special has happened - just like always. If anything, it's even more normal than normal. Gwen's keeping to herself, trying to bottle up whatever she's going through, while I go through equal emotional repression. We're just a pair of emotionally stunted idiots who like to cause trouble for the sake of it. "I'm trying to keep her distracted. She's still hung up on Elvis."

Really, she shouldn't be. What happened all that time ago is something that was bound to happen. Trent isn't the type to stick around when it got tough - not really. Getting his hands dirty isn't the sort of thing he'd do, not when it really comes down to it. If it was, if he really cared that much, then he would have stuck around for her. When everything got out, he was the first in line to run far, far away. Gwen had trusted him with her biggest truth and he'd gone and spread it everywhere.

"She's still upset?" Tsking, Ma shakes her head once more. Determination settles into her eyes as she focuses on the road ahead, "I oughta speak to her. She can't be wallowing over guys who clearly aren't worth her precious time. My own bastard of a son included."

"Hey! You birthed this bastard," I smile, knowing that she's only taking a shallow jab at me.

"That's why I can call you one," Ma shares the same grin, a small chuckle escaping her system. "I know what I birthed and raised."

Brown. Recognising brown is never a problem for me, especially since it belongs to Courtney. One tiny blot on the pavement, joined by a red leather satchel and shiny black shoes. What are the odds of seeing her here, right now, in this moment? Sure, she lives close by but she's always out, always busy, with some sort of errand. So what are the odds? What are the chances? Does the shitty universe just hate me that much?

"Is that..." Definitely seeing what I saw, Ma frowns as she squints to double check her vision.

Already, I know what's gonna happen. As soon as that smile curves her cheeks, lights up her eyes, I know that my mother is going to plant me right in the middle of a horrible, unbearable situation. Because that's what my Ma does. All the time. Every time. Her excuse, repeated to me so many times over the years, is that it toughens me up and teaches me life lessons. I think she just likes seeing me suffer for some of the shit I put her through - her own form of karma.

"No Ma," Even though I know it's pointless, I have to try to stop her. "Don't."

"Too late!" She sings out, already pulling in and winding down her window. Brightly, she grins at the person standing by the car, "Hey Courtney, would you like a ride?"

Blinking, almost as if we'd caught her in the middle of something, Courtney immediately stiffens up. Then, almost as quickly, she melts up once more, fixing a sheepish smile onto her face, "Oh, if it's not any trouble- "

"Not at all," Ma insists, her own smile growing larger if that's possible. Unlocking the back doors, she nods toward them. "Get in."

Yeah, whatever is up there does not like me. That's all I could think as Courtney gets in, that innocent smile on her face as she starts a conversation with Ma. All too easily, they fall into the familiar pattern of Ma and Courtney talking about something I couldn't care less about - probably college. And that conversation, this moment, is torture; this moment must have been planned.

But I could do nothing to escape it but glare out the window, wishing that I was anywhere but trapped in this stupid, tiny car.

Anne Maria's P.O.V

Everything's sorted: my family is out for the weekend, catering's been dealt with ages ago, and invites have been sent out through a mass text vetted by Geoff himself - because Geoff knows what goes into a good event. So much effort has been placed into tonight. This is my ticket into gaining my first foothold into taking down Heather's tacky reign. This is my chance to finally prove to Dakota that I could pay her back; she deserves that at least.

Getting ready has been effortless for once, especially since I've had everything planned from the get-go. Hairspray is a main staple, multiple cans on standby and so many more used to make my poof bullet-proof. There wouldn't be an opportunity for anyone to ruin my night - not tonight. I'm hosting the first rager of the year and by god am I going to make it one to remember - laws, age and peers be damned.

When I go downstairs, into the interior of the cleaned up and cleared up restaurant, I already have a few guests at the door. Geoff, most likely to claim dibs of music selection; a few other people Geoff hangs around with, cause they most likely carpooled; and surprisingly Dakota. My Dakota with... Katie but no Sadie? Weird.

"Welcome, losers!" Flinging open the front door, I let them all trickle in and wait until Dakota enters with Katie. Immediately, she meets my gaze and I could feel a telepathic bond pass between us - like in those TV shows about people with superpowers and shit. In that moment, I couldn't help but feel like I knew what was up. Handing over command to Geoff (cause he could be trusted), I lead her and Katie toward the back.

Both of them are quiet, like mice. Katie keeps fidgeting, not at all looking comfortable as she stares at a pair of heels that I guess Dakota loaned her. Dakota herself looks a little lackluster, lacking the glittery and flamboyant persona that often comes in her package. Even her blonde hair seems a little less golden tonight, scraped back into its ponytail with a fluffy pink scrunchie. Together they look about ready to burst into tears.

"Alright ladies, what's up?" I ask, already knowing it had something to do with Heather. Everything bad more or less links back to her.

"Heather's gone too far this time," Dakota speaks for the pair of them, shaking her head. Biting at her flawless coat of pink lip gloss, she frowns, "She split Katie and Sadie up. She's planning to..."

Signalling for Dakota to stop talking, I already gain the full picture. There isn't a need for explanation. Not at all. I've seen this game played out so many times, been involved within its board so many times, that I could see all the red flags popping up from miles away. This isn't the first time Heather's messed with close friendships; this won't be the last time either. Still, part of me couldn't believe it. Just how far she'd go...

"The last thing you both need to do is act like this," Somehow, I find myself speaking strongly, firmly. "Heather wants you both upset. So you show her the opposite. You have a good fucking time at my party and you make the most of it."

'Because otherwise, you let Heather win,' I think, remembering how many times I've told Dakota the same thing in the past. What gives Heather true power is the misery she causes and I'll be damned if her evil ruins tonight. Tonight is all about combating her evil. Tonight, it would be like we've won - not her.

Even if Heather's actions still left burning marks on us all, scars of the past evils she made us commit, she would not ruin tonight. That's exactly why I made Geoff exclude her off the guest list: from tonight Heather Chang would no longer control my world.