Step 1: Phone Courtney and vent for a few minutes, then brainstorm a good excuse for Saturday. Step 2: Phone Deanna and/or Katie to diffuse rumors. Step 3: Phone Will with phony excuse. 4: Find Tyler and explain.

     If only life were that simple. Fixing all of today's whacked out events with 4 simple steps would only be possible if I had that little "Easy Button" like on the Staples commercials. God I wish I could find myself an Easy Button right about now.

     Walking out of school through the gym entrance, I completely bypassed the front lawn and whatever demons were sure to be lurking there. Snapping my sunglasses on my face, I walked at an insanely fast pace towards the parking lot. And it wasn't even my regular A-lister walk. It was like, a regular, non-swishy-hips walk. I guess I was just that unnerved.

     As I got to the car, Ethan was leaning on it. I'd succumbed and agreed to drive him home, but that was before last period English class with Deanna, Katie, Brad, Olivier, and Craig. English was like the worst class ever, solely because of the disgustingly high concentration of junior A's. Heck, we even had Danielle Burke, queen of the B's. Now just imagine what that would have been like; me sitting there, victim of a particularly nasty rumour, surrounded by eager and dumb junior A's who all vehemently believed said rumour. Not pretty.

     The sad thing was that math class (yes, math class! I think I'm morphing into a nerd...) had put me in a considerably better mood after I'd decided to drive Ethan home. I mean, nobody saw us yesterday so chances are nobody would see us today. And besides, I've got the feeling I can actually vent to Ethan and not get a "Wow, you're a heinous bitch for saying that about your friends," or a "Aww, sweetie, come here and let me hug your troubles away." What I needed was some action...like, real action, not sexy action, obviously. Action as in doing something to get revenge. Hatching a plot, making an alliance, egging a house...okay, maybe not egging a house, but something to cause pain or damage to evil manwhore William Dawson.

   "Chill buttercup," Ethan said, as I ripped the door open and hurled my stuff into the back seat. I fixed him with a truly vicious, Medusa-like glare as I attempted to slide into the car. But Ethan stopped me by blocking the way with his arm.

   "Get the hell in or leave!" I hissed. He looked genuinely surprised.

     "Whoa there Maddie, calm down. You gonna tell me what happened or drive us into a ditch because you're so angry," he said. I looked at him, totally bewildered. His words held absolutely no sarcasm or mockery, just what seemed to be pure, genuine concern.

     "You already know," I snapped, my temper somewhat diffused from my banshee-like cursing state.

     "Okay, but you weren't this pissed off in class," he said. He was using that patient tone you use only with exceptionally angry kids and moody pre-teens. I wanted to claw his eyes out for it, but restrained myself.

     "I had English, okay? English with 5 other pigheaded, shit-for-brains junior A's," I said through gritted teeth. I bowed my head, inhaling deeply. I should probably listen to Ethan and chill out before I started driving. Who knows, I might be tempted to run over the first junior A I came across.

     "No wonder you're pissed. You gonna be okay?" he asked, bending down so he could look up into my downturned face. I nodded mutely. He straightened while patting me on the back.

     "You should go take a run on your treadmill or whatever it is you rich girls do to keep those endorphins up," he said, returning to his usual sarcastic self. I made a face at his back as he made his way around the car to the passenger side.

    Peering around once again, everybody nearby (who luckily weren't any juniors that I knew) seemed engrossed in their own affairs. I nodded to myself and slid into the driver's seat.

                                                                               *****************

     "So he tricks you into dating him, goes and tells the rest of his assho-sorry, make that 'friends', then makes sure the class gossip gets wind of it...yep, you've definitely got a nasty man-skank on your hands Maddie," Ethan said as we drove. I nodded bitterly.

     "And the worst part is I have to go to his stupid gala because I actually agreed to it!" I said as we came up to the beach.

     "You could always just waltz up to him and tell him he's an effing asshole," Ethan mused. I snorted.

     "Yeah, that'd go over well," I scoffed.

     "But seriously. You can't just let the guy walk all over you like that. He's a player and it's high time he's put in his place. I think you shou-" I stopped listening to Ethan as a brilliant idea hatched in my head. Tyler had invited me out for lunch (which I could easily turn into a dinner) and coffee. If I could get him to play along, I could try to convince Will I was already booked for Saturday night and I'd just forgotten. Tyler'd play along, he'd probably even go right up to Will and defend me...as long as he'd let me talk to him.

     "That's it," I mumbled. Ethan paused.

     "Maddie, I was joking. Do you think I'd honestly recommend that you chase him down a hall with an axe?" Ethan asked, looking slightly worried. I stared at him blankly for a moment.

     "What? No! An axe? What the hell Ethan!" I said, only then processing what he'd said. His face melted into an amused grin.

     "God you're so blonde," he said. I hit him.

     "Jerk. And you expect me to give you a lift home from school every day," I said, starting to get a little happier now that I had a plan.

     "Actually, I don't. Now I've got my own ride," he said, opening his door.

    "Oooh, where?" I demanded, looking around the empty circular driveway in front of the condos. Ethan laughed at me.

     "It's in the garage, blondie. Anyway, I hope you work it all out and are feeling just a little less mood-swingy tomorrow," he said, leaning on the window again. Just then I realized I hadn't put the roof down. Pushing the button, I waited for the roof to tuck itself into its little hiding place near the trunk before pushing my sunglasses into my hair to look at Ethan.

     "You know, when you're nice like that your cynical facade is totally murdered," I said, regarding him thoughtfully. He just grinned with a little laugh, looking down at his feet.

     "See now you've gone and made me blush Madison Carlisle," he said, his eyes dancing, "See you tomorrow,"

     "M'kay. See ya," I said, pulling away as Ethan jogged up the steps to the condo entrance. Something about him made me feel so...comfortable. Like I'd be able to walk up to him without a hint of makeup, wearing huge baggy sweatpants and one of my brother's old t-shirts and he wouldn't really care, unlike everybody else I considered my friends.

     Whoa, wait a second there...did I just call Ethan a friend?!

                                                                           ******************

     An hour. I'd been trying to reach him for a full freaking hour and he didn't even have the decency to turn his phone on and let me leave a message. Slamming the house phone down on its cradle, I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling. His mom says he never came home, therefore he can't be surfing because he wouldn't have a board. Courtney's called everyone else, but they don't know where he is either. Clairview isn't that big! I mean, there are only so many places a guy can go! I chucked a pillow at my dresser in frustration. I needed fresh air and I needed it fast.

     I was pounding the pavement in my Nikes in record time. Today, my iPod was blasting all manner of angry music so loud I'm sure everybody and their brother knew what I was listening to. I didn't care though. My master plan had been royally flushed right down the porcelain express. When I got to the beach, I got even angrier because not even the sea air chilled my nerves. I was seriously pissed and not even jogging was helping matters.

     Plunking my butt down in the sand, I untied my shoes and dug my toes into the sand. So I'd scrape off my new French pedi, who gives a damn! I'd get one Saturday anyway, especially if I had to dress up for some stupid shitty polo dinner event. Speaking of which, all the dressy clothes I had were unmistakably sexy and the last thing I wanted to do was wear a slinky little black dress. In Will-lingo, slinky little black dresses mean "come-hither-I-want-you-so-bad". God, can't I think of anything that would cheer me up right now?

   Last time I was here, Tyler threw me in the ocean, whispered some part of my mind. And just like that, my seething anger morphed into a grotesque combination of guilt and nostalgia. Last time I was here, as in yesterday. Yesterday when I went to sleep happy. Yesterday before I'd passed the stupid note of death. Yesterday when Tyler still talked to me.

     With a sigh to end all sighs, I reached for my shoes and stood. If I was a soap star, the depressing music would have started to play as I looked out at the waves. I would have given anything to see the silhouette that solitary surfer I so longed to find etched against the sunset. But there was no surfer and the beauty of the sunset made me feel sick inside.

     Resigning myself to the fact there was no feasible way to fix my current problem, I turned to leave. Life would go on no matter how desperately I tried to take back my actions of the day. I was slowly slipping into an even deeper funk when I saw a familiar car turn into the parking lot. I froze. There was a surfboard strapped on top.