Darcy could feel a weight lift from her shoulders as she pulled her car into the driveway. It rolled to a slow stop before the large black front door and Darcy let out a long sigh as the engine came to a rest.

Charlie had told her all about her day and her week while Darcy's mind kept running over and over again the words Eli had all but spat out in venom in the principal's office. And always her thoughts led back to Gina Wickham.

Everything she had planned to say to Eli, the small bridge she thought maybe they could build together, make this a healthy, fair competition to salutatorianship, gone. Because of Wickham. Always Wickham. There to ruin her plans and muddy up her thoughts.

If Charlie noticed Darcy's deepening scowl with each mile that took them from their new school, and the sudden release of said scowl once they reach home, she didn't dare say so. She did, however, give Darcy's hand a quick shake and then a squeeze.

Darcy hadn't realized they had made it home. She had been staring off into the distance, her mind on autopilot.

"Race you inside?" Charlie asked, already primed to bolt from the car and race up the front steps, her backpack slung over one shoulder.

"I haven't beaten you since we were kids. What makes you think I'd partake in a race I know I can't win?"

"Hey, Carson! Race you inside!"

"You're on!"

Carson's car was barely in park beside Darcy's before he was bolting out of his seat, running to the front door. Charlie's reflexes were just as quick and they slammed into each other, both reaching for the door handle at the same time.

Darcy grabbed her bag from the back, took her time closing her door and then Charlie's, which she had left open in her haste. She even wandered over to Carson's car, taking out his keys from where they still hung in the ignition, closing his door too.

The two of them were arguing inside when Darcy entered and she was struck, as she frequently was, to a point where the realization slid off her back and into the recesses of her subconscious, just how different she was from her adopted siblings.

She loved them dearly but her competitive side came out in more advanced avenues, her enthusiasm harder to find and used sparingly, her smile used even less frequently. But still, she smiled as she entered the house. It was good to be home.

Her Aunt Lois and Uncle Henry arrived soon after the three of them got home from school and Friday night dinners ensued, the one night a week they all ate together, only sickness to the point of death a reasonable excuse to not attend.

Short summaries of everyone's week were portioned out and then all thoughts of school and work were collectively forgotten as jokes and stories ensued. Darcy sank into bed content, thoughts of Eli or Gina a million miles away.

They let her be for the night but both were there waiting for her as soon as the cool late winter morning light started filtering through the cracks in her curtains.

The weight slowly lowered itself back onto her shoulders as she changed for the day, her formality reserved for school heaped in a pile on her floor in the corner. It touched down as she reached the kitchen and the last lingering ties of sleep were shaken free with a large cup of coffee. She heaved a large sigh as she leaned against the cool marble counter and watched the rest of her family descend.

Charlie was yawning and didn't look like she had gotten much sleep the night before. Darcy diagnosed nerves mixed with a last-minute cram session. She had a scholastic decathlon tournament that day in Connecticut, the only reason Uncle Henry was up before nine o'clock on a Saturday morning.

She waved to both sleepy family members as they made their way to the door, half-blind with heavy-lidded eyes. Checking the driveway to find her Aunt Lois's car already gone for the day, Darcy had the house essentially to herself. Carson would die before he showed himself before noon.

Like father, like son.

Darcy decided to set up camp in the den, her uncle's study. The dark wood of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases acted as a nice sound barrier, even if she was the only person awake in the house. The french doors that led off to the deck that lined the back of the house provided a lovely view to their sloping lawn beyond. When her eyes got tired, Darcy could always look out to the slowly melting snow, shining under the barely warm February sun. Every so often the evergreens lining the back of their yard would unload a branch of snow and the resounding thump would pull Darcy from her studies.

As interesting as the female writers of the 19th century were, Darcy could only do so much research on them. With her three writers chosen, (first Mary Shelley, then Emily Bronte, and, if need be, Louisa Mae Alcott) all of their books ordered from the local library to get a head start on reading, statistics seemed a nice break from the heavy worded work.

But it was her phone that was truly capturing her attention that morning. She kept picking it up, glancing at it, sure it had rung or vibrated with a text, any sort of response, but nothing. All morning, nothing.

Darcy would have been angry or frustrated if this wasn't George's usual way of communication. Her twin brother had inherited their father's Italian looks with warm skin, brown hair, and brown eyes, while Darcy had received their mother's harsh Irish looks, black hair and pale skin, and even paler eyes. But George had also inherited his father's lack of awareness and intense concentration, all things fading away when focused on the project at hand.

George had a piano recital coming up, a big one, a concerto with him a full orchestra. Darcy knew this. But still, she wished she could call him, talk to him.

When she heard Carson moving about a little after one, she gave up her attempts to reach George and purposely left her phone behind when she wandered into the kitchen.

Carson was setting up his game consul in the family room on their little-used flat screen, a big bowl of cereal on the coffee table waiting for him when Darcy followed his trail of noise.

"Wanna play?" he asked, his words muffled as his head was buried in the depths of the entertainment center, trying to connect the right wires.

Darcy didn't answer. She took the spot next to where Carson always sat and took the controller he already had out. Carson sat next to her and ate his cereal in between rounds of running around a war-torn country, shooting the enemy, and sometimes, each other.

"So. How are you doing?"

Carson was the first of them to speak. It was an unspoken fact that Darcy only played video games with Carson when she was upset. It was the only avenue outside of school and sports that she had found satisfied her natural bent for competition. And she only engaged in it when school and sports just weren't cutting it.

"What do you mean?"

Darcy's eyes were glued to the screen. Carson's question hadn't done enough to falter her intense concentration. His next words, however, got her killed.

"You know, with Gina."

Darcy let out a huff of frustration as blood ran down her screen and she had to wait to respawn.

"Fine. I guess."

The 'I guess' was a courtesy. The most she would let Carson see of how she truly felt. Carson didn't need to be shown. He knew how she felt. He felt the same way.

"Yeah, I know. It's messed up."

"You didn't know?"

Darcy forced her concentration to focus, to not let their conversation distract her. It would only show the depths of which Gina's sudden reappearance in her life had shaken her.

"Come on, Darcy. You've got to give me more credit than that. You think I would have let you or Charlie walk into that school without giving you a heads up? I'm betting that all-girls sleep-away school out west is starting to look pretty attractive right about now."

Darcy shook her head, letting a small smile cross her lips. It disappeared as suddenly as it arrived. Gina knew where she was. They had faced each other. If Darcy disappeared now, it would be seen as a retreat, a victory in Gina's eyes. She couldn't leave. She wouldn't.

"I've been asking around. About her."

"What did you find out?"

Darcy's aggression was let loose on an unfortunate computer player that she found hiding out in an abandoned warehouse. It didn't soothe her as much as she would have wished but somehow it had made her feel better.

"She started this past fall. After... everything. She's kept her head down, avoided most people, made a few friends but not many. Kept mainly to herself. Until a few weeks ago."

Darcy paused the game and looked over at Carson.

"What happened a few weeks ago?"

"My guess? You and Charlie showed up."

"And?"

"And now Miss Gina Wickham is suddenly best friends with the Bennett boys, all three of them. The youngest one seems especially taken with her."

Darcy returned to the game, the disdain on Eli's face as he refused to look at her in the principal's office flashing up in her mind's eye.

"Why the Bennetts?" Darcy wondered out loud.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Darcy paused the game again, waiting for Carson to elaborate.

"Monday, she saw you two, you and Charlie with Jamie and Eli. She must have seen how Charlie was looking at Jamie and how you were looking at Eli."

"What do you mean, how I was looking at Eli?"

Carson gave her a long stare. Darcy would have squirmed under it if she had any less self-control. She met her brother's piercing stare.

"She knows your weak spot. Charlie's especially with Eli as a backup plan."

"There's nothing between Eli and me. Only disdain and animosity."

"Okay. Whatever you say, I will believe. But either way, she's got you and Charlie in her crosshairs. And it's no secret that Charlie's falling hard for Jamie. She was up until one last night talking to him on the phone."

"So that's why she had looked so tired that morning."

Their game was long forgotten. Real-world problems were staring them in the face. The fictional war paused on screen would have to wait.

"Why can't she just leave us alone?" Darcy asked.

The weight on Darcy's shoulders was starting to show its strain as her shoulder sagged.

"You know why, Darcy."

"What does she want from us?"

It was a stupid question. Carson and Darcy both knew the answer. It hung, unspoken between them.

Gina Wickham only wanted one thing. Darcy had seen it in her eyes the second they had met hers Monday morning.

She wanted revenge.

A/N:

Meme time!