Karen hated Stacey's blog. She thought it was judgemental and entirely untrue—"like Gossip Girl, except worse," she'd said once. "Except this time it's my friend. It's personal."

"I would never post about my friends!" Stacey cried back at Karen's implications, shock written all over her face. "Do I really seem like a person that'd turn my back on my friends?"

Her question had guilted Karen into silence, and the clique put the argument into the past. However, a post about Whitney one Thursday during freshman year of uni unearthed the argument and allowed it to bloom.

"How could you?" Karen had raged at Stacey, who looked back guilty but defiant.

"She's an icon!" Stacey had shot back. "I've written the same piece on all of us, so why're you so angry at this one?"

"Because you didn't tell the truth about your post!" Karen'd yelled at Stacey, Whitney standing quietly behind her. "Because you didn't tell us you'd make her out to be a trophy!"

"I'm sorry I glorified her virginity, alright?" Stacey had growled, anger ebbing as guilt took over. "I'll take it down—I'll rewrite it—"

"What's the use?" Karen asked, looking sad and tired now. "Everyone's already read it. Congrats by the way—your blog is now more famous than it's ever been."

"I didn't mean for it to be like this," Stacey had started, looking at Whitney apologetically. "I didn't mean—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant," Karen had said, sighing. "Now we'll never know whether the boys that approach her are assholes or not."

"It's alright, Karen," Whitney'd interrupted quietly, giving Stacey a mute glance of forgiveness. "Stacey, I hope you realize that I don't appreciate what you've posted about me. However, you mean more to me than any boy. All of you are more important to me than any love interest I could have."

And so Whitney's gentle words had mended the fraying know. Although her reminder of the importance of our friendship served to tie us all closer than ever, it scared me to think of what would have happened if one day, a boy did matter more.

Because family did. And boys grew up to become men, and men helped form families.

---

It became apparent that Jeremy would be taking the presidential position in the council, so most of the presidential candidates opted to run for other positions. Kimberly and Rachel were now running for VP.

The speech incident had shocked Kimberly, who'd never thought that people could be so despicable. In her mind people were naturally kind and selfless, and Rachel's actions seemed to violate those bounds. "How could she be so evil?" Kimberly had asked Karen one day during lunch, receiving a sorrowfully sympathetic look in response.

I ended up confronting Stacey—briefly, and most likely ineffectively.

"Her face when it hit her!" Stacey had shrieked, doubling over in laughter. "Priceless!"

"Wasn't it a bit obvious?" I'd asked, fretting over the possibility that the scandal would be connected back to Stacey, then me. " Is Rachel really trustworthy?"

"When it comes down to it? No," Stacey admitted before breaking out into a grin. "Thankfully Kimberly's too naive to stand up to her—a wise choice on her part, for once."

I must have looked uncomfortable as Stacey promptly burst out laughing before calming down and patting my shoulder comfortingly.

"Don't worry about a thing—at least not yet," she told me with a conspiratorial grin. "I'm not done with her yet."

Were I less annoyed at Kimberly and more worried about the possible consequences to Stacey's actions, I would have told her off immediately. We had privileges, but it was prudent to abuse them—you ran the risk of losing that comfort. However, I decided consciously to turn a blind eye to Stacey's antics: Kimberly could deal with her.

The Wolves could have Little Red—I wanted the Woodsman.

---

At precisely eight fifty-eight in the morning I locked my car behind me, hearing the satisfying sound of sliding levers clicking into place inside the Porsche. A yawn squeezed its way out of me, hearty and foggy in the odd early-morning chill of spring.

Walking up the steps to the front gate, I noticed loose pieces of paper flying around, crumpled into little balls or simply drifting and dragging on the paved floor. What'd happened? Had someone played a practical joke by dumping trash on campus somewhere? How juvenile to think that littering was going to boost one's name into popularity.

Side-stepping the clutter, I walked onwards through the front arch just as a piece of paper smacked onto my leg, catching. I made to kick it off, but stopped short. Dozens of papers were pasted all over the school walls, some the size of notebook paper and others the size of movie posters.

'Put that P in my V!' the posters screamed in scarlet-bold font, 'Vote for Kimberly!' A photoshopped image of a naked woman with Kimberly's face adorned the papers, baring it all for the passing stranger.

My mind immediately shot to Stacey, but how had she gotten the picture? Kimberly's stare looked devoid of intelligence, giddy and eager to please. She looked like a child who'd been promised something amazing. Hair newly mussed and smile wide, she even had on earrings.

Quinn's earrings.

Suddenly I felt sick—how long had Stacey been plotting this fiasco? The picture was clearly taken for this exact purpose since she hadn't told anyone she'd been taking pictures backstage during the mock fashion show. In fact she'd never taken pictures of anyone in the clique without their knowing—such was common courtesy.

But did that matter? I'd gotten what I'd wanted: Kimberly Morgan's name irreversibly tainted. Such a scandal was irreversible, even if she did seek help. That Stacey had made her name for her as she was trying to establish her own was pitifully ironic. Now, rather than "runner-up for student council president" and "VP candidate" she was the "student council slut" and the "vice-presidential whore."

The late bell rang, the sound reverberating through my head as I tried to shake off the sick feeling in my gut. Making my way to my class, I decided that this, if anything, would humble Kimberly a bit to the real world.

Don't bite the hand that feeds you, especially if you're begging for scraps from the adorned fingers.

---

Karen stood waiting at the cafe when I arrived, an angry frown marring her freckled features. Nearby sat Quinn, lost in thought.

"What's wrong, Karen?" I asked as I arrived at the quaint table. Food hadn't been ordered yet, and the immaculate surface roused a feel of restlessness. "Why'd you call everyone here?"

"Stacey, that's what," Karen snapped, angry blue eyes trained on me. "Did you tell her to do that? To publically humiliate an innocent girl?"

"No!" I spluttered, shocked at her outburst. Of course I hadn't told Stacey to do something so drastic—but then again, I'd told her to do something, and that 'something' had been up for interpretation.

"Why'd she up and do it then?" Karen demanded, plunking down into her seat angrily. Quinn glanced at her uneasily, opening her mouth to say something before choosing to maintain her silence.

"Hey ya'll," Stacey said, strutting in and sliding her circle shades up to reveal her green eyes. "Karen? What's got you all hot and bothered?"

"You," Karen snarled, snapping up from her seat. "How could you do that to Kimberly?"

"Like it?" Stacey asked, flashing a devilish smile. "Needed some help, but I managed to pull it off—and pretty well so too, if I do say so myself."

"How could you do that?" Karen repeated, looking despaired as Stacey's smile only grew wider. Stacey let out a light laugh, glancing towards me with a half-endearing, half-sardonic expression.

"For Stella, of course," she said, winking at me. "She expressed... dissatisfaction with Kimberly's continued presence in her life. So I fixed it for her."

"Stella?" Karen asked, whirling around to face me. "Did you—"

"I didn't tell her to photoshop Kimberly into a whore, for what it counts," I murmured, casting a sad gaze in Quinn's direction. Quinn looked slightly relieved at my words, but directed her gaze down to her manicured fingertips. She wasn't taking sides. "But I did tell her to get rid of Kimberly. That was a mistake, and I realize that now—"

"Then why didn't you apologize?" Karen asked, brows furrowed more in confusion than anger. "Why didn't either of you step up and apologi—"

"Why the fuck would we do that?" Stacey shot back, annoyed now. "She's the one that should fuck out of town."

"Is this about your little dream where Stella and Calum realize their long-buried love for each other and they hook up and live happily ever after?" Karen asked tiredly, looking at Stacey wit a sad smile. "Because that fantasy died as soon as Kimberly arrived, if not earlier."

"It's not a fantasy," Stacey ground out with barely suppressed anger. "Kimberly has no chance with Remington."

"Then why don't you fuck out of their business and let the greater powers follow their course?" Karen retorted. "Isn't it because somewhere deep down you know that I might be right? That maybe, just maybe, Kimberly's the princess in your fantastical love story and you're afraid to open your eyes to the truth?"

"No," Stacey said, voice a trembling vibrato.

"Then why?" Karen demanded angrily. "Why can't you let love go its course? Why do you have to butt your head in and try to twist everything so that it fits your standards, your rules?"

"Because I can't stand to see Stella hurting!" Stacey burst out. "Because I can't stand to see my best friend living in pain as her one true love prances around with some slut!"

A silence followed her words. Were they true? Were they not? Was my situation really so pitiful that I needed Stacey to step up and defend me and my subconscious perhaps?

"If this is what it means to be your friend, Stella," Karen said quietly after a pause, blue eyes a tumultuous day of winds and clouds, "Then count me out."

Grabbing her handbag and turning, Karen made her way out of the cafe, walking away from us one step after the other. Her BMW pulled out of the parking lot, leaving the table in silence.

She hadn't looked back.

---

Author's Note:

Hey all! Another update (that needs major editing, I know), hope you like it!

Drama is building, can you feel ;) Stick with me through these awk chapters, would you?

Vote and Comment to let me hear your thoughts! (and boost my ego... cuz seriously it's like a deflated balloon. Have you seen how many comments I've had? That's right—zero to none)

Until next Tuesday, cheers!

 —Littlewhims