Chapter One

A Chapter by Alex

Living in an undersized town like mine, you can constantly sense the population transform. The latest was two years ago when the Tate family moved into the house next door, with their three German Sheppard's-Rango, Tango, and Mango-that somehow always ended up eating the azaleas from our front lawn, and their four year old twin daughters Maddison and Grace. The morning they rode through the downtown area of town, it gave the impression that no matter where I was, I could sense them, could become aware of the change in the atmosphere. It was unavoidable like the plague. And in a town that only held 40,531 people, it was obvious when a new family decided to call this place home. It was very uncommon for the town to host just singles. Sort of like the people you see in the movies looking for a new start, unknowingly meeting the man of their dreams. Hartford Bay was nothing like that at all. Singles that came into our town were immediately branded as hazardous. Most of the town's people just assumed they were only in town to break up a nice marriage that was probably over long before it began.

They'd never admit it out loud to anyone, but the people of Hartford frowned upon couples that ended in divorce. They loathed seeing the mother stay behind to raise the children, while the father stimulated into the city with his mistress. Everyone would stare at the scorned woman as if she were a helpless child, tottering towards the edge of a bridge, and at any moment was bound to go tumbling into the Pacific Ocean, or in this case, break down in the middle of isle fourteen at the Super-mart grocery store downtown. I'd seen it happen before, and it wasn't an appealing display.

Hartford was all about family; it was no doubt the most family oriented municipality in all of America. It was actually chosen as the safest place in our great nation in the early seventies. It was written in extremely large inscription on the sign to welcome people into town. It's very hard to miss. And let's not forget to mention the fact that Dan Molar, the local newscaster, reminds the town each morning during the six o' clock news broadcast. But it was forever my dream to get out of Hartford, find a place out there that was nothing like it. I wanted to unearth a place where no one knew of me, where no one gave me that grief-stricken look that I expected each day walking the streets of this small town. I wanted to go to a place where the change in population was oblivious, instead of palpable like the arrival of the new neighbors I received two years back.

The day I met Amelia Tate, I remember seeing her one afternoon, long red hair dazzling in the summer glow. Her eyes were a bright blue that fit perfectly with the untamed color of her hair. I'd just come home from school, and I could see the moving vans, as workers unloaded its contents. Amelia was standing off to the side, a hand upwards to her face, shielding the sun. I was getting out of my car, a red Volkswagen beetle, when she spotted me.

"Hi, there," she called out, as she walked across the front of our lawn. She was wearing short blue jeans, and a pink and yellow tank top. Her ruby red hair was piled on top of her head, the color reminding me of the bonfire that shone every year at the Harvest Festival. She was stunning, like an actress from Hollywood, or a model living in a penthouse in New York City. She looked like a woman that had been somewhere besides Hartford, and that instantly made me admire her.

"Uh, hi, are you the new neighbor?" I asked, although it was clear to see she was. It just seemed like a good conversation starter.

She smiled, and then laughed. The sound was carefree, and full of joy. "Yeah, we are." She stuck her hand out to me, and I shook it firmly. "My name's Amelia."

"Avery." I introduced myself, with a warm smiled.

"That's such a beautiful name." I thanked her, loving the complement. My name was of the French origin, meaning 'Elf counsel'. I had no idea what that meant but I liked the name. It was the one my mother gave to me the day I was born. I adored my name. I felt as though it had character, and unlike any other that was out there in the world. When I was younger, my father would openly voice his hate for my name, saying it was too masculine. My mother would always argue that no name had a specific gender. The two of them would spend hours debating on my name. But he never mentioned it now, not since the accident, and there was a big part of me that was gracious of that. I didn't like his distaste for the name then, and I surely didn't want to hear it now that mom wasn't there to defend me.

"Is it just you and your parents that live next door?" she asked, pointing in the direction of my house. I turned briefly, staring at the white house and its bright red door. I'd lived there my entire life; half with both my parents, and the other half just me and Dad.

Turning back to Amelia, I shook my head, raising my bag further up my shoulder. "No, it's just me and my dad."

She smiled, not asking more than I wanted her to. "I'd have to invite the two of you over sometime for dinner." I nodded at the possibility, although I knew it would never happen. Ever since the accident, my father hated socializing. He avoided every local event in town. He didn't even bother to spent time with the people he'd known for years. He demolished every friendship he'd ever built, leaving them all behind as nothing but rubble and dust. Every morning he rode off into the city for work, and stayed until the small town was fast asleep. It was sad to see at first, but after a couple of years it didn't seem to bother me as much. "That is of course after we get the house together."

I laughed lightly. "I guess it's takeout from here on out, huh?"

Amelia joined me in laughter. "That's what I'm going to tell my husband."

Behind Amelia, I could see the movers carrying items into the house, sweat dripping from their bodies, and staining their clothing. My dad always said that you could tell a person's true character by the furniture they keep in their house. From the looks of it, Amelia and her husband were lovers of leather. I spotted a black leather couch, loveseat, recliner, bar stools with black leather seats, and even a few lawn chairs.

"If you want, I could recommend you a few good places around here." I informed her, trying my best to be the helpful neighbor I'd always been in the past.

Amelia grinned, running a hand through her fiery locks. "That would be great, thank you."

I returned the enthusiasm. "No problem."

I sat with Amelia on the porch after that, telling her the best places to eat in town for low prices. I informed her of 'Minnie's Dinner.' It was the best place to eat in town with extremely low prices, and the service there was always friendly. Most of the kids from the high school went there on Friday nights, before heading to the abandoned cul-de-sac at the end of town to drink beers and listen to loud music. I wasn't really into stuff like that, and besides, my Friday nights was dedicated to practicing my dance routines and working on my vocals. Minnie, the owner of the restaurant, used to be a friend of my mom's, and every thanksgiving since I was twelve she would invite my father and me over to her house for dinner. And every time, my father would decline. He would give Minnie some half lie about him having to work, and the two of us visiting family in the city. My father worked every holiday since I was twelve, and we never visited family for any of them. He didn't even let me go alone. I hadn't seen my grandparents since I was ten, and my parents and I went into the city to visit them for a week over the summer. I'd always loved my grandparents house, enjoyed spending time with my grandmother who would always make me pageant dresses for my competitions.

Amelia seemed happy that I was helping her, and I was gracious of that. It was one of my favorite things to do. I believed that everyone needed a helping hand sometimes, and after the accident, I spent more time reaching out to people that needed help, no matter how small or big the gesture was. I told Amelia about the best places to shop for clothes and groceries. And as time progressed, Amelia and I became closer. She became one of my closest friends, despite our age difference. I'd even baby-sat the twins a couple of times for her and Frank when they wanted to go into the city for a nice dinner date.

It had been a while since a new family moved into town, and this morning, as I dressed for school, I could feel that change again. I could hear the tires of the moving vans as they drove though the downtown area. I could see the people standing around, trying to catch a glimpse of Hartford's newest residents. I knew the change was coming, seeing as how the house next door had just been sold almost six months ago. But never had the arrival of a new family affected me this much. Something was different about this time. The sentiment that overcame me was one like no other I'd felt when the moving vans came rolling around. It felt as if this time my life was definitely going to change forever.

Peeking out the window of my bedroom, I spotted the first van, Happy Movers, parked in the driveway; the big red letters shining bright, as the animated faces of the All-American family was displayed underneath. I watched silently, as the moving men began unloading the trucks, placing items on their dollies, and rolling them towards the house. I'd seen the 'For Sale' sign for weeks now, but I never thought much about it. I sat down on the seat underneath my window, watching the action down below. Across the street, I spotted the Larson's on their front lawn, watching the vans pull up to the house. Amanda, their daughter whom I went to school with, was dressed in her uniform that matched mine, craning her neck to see what was happening. With the reactions of my neighbors, you'd think it was an alien space ship ready to take over Earth.

I turned away from the window, and walked over to my closet, pulling out my school uniform: black and gray plaid pleaded skirt, long-sleeved white button-down shirt, and a black V-neck sweater. I sat down at my vanity, pulling the towel from my head, and began to blow dry my hair. I ran a brush through it before adding a matching black and grey plaid headband. I stood back, examining myself in the mirror, and as usual, I looked picture perfect, and not a hair out of place. Grabbing my bag from the chair on my desk, I headed out the bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

"Good morning." I verbalized my presents, as I entered the kitchen.

"Morning," my father, Harrington Lane, greeted me. He was seated at the table, reading the local newspaper and sipping from the coffee cup beside him. His face was clean shaved, and he was already dressed and ready for work in his gray suit, black tie, and crisp white shirt. My father worked out of town, in the rural area of the city just outside of Hartford.

I maneuvered over to the cabinets above the sink, pulling out a bowl to fix myself some cereal. My meals were mostly supplied by the local dinner, or with my best friend's family at her house. My father must have ate at work, because I would always hear him come in late at night, pausing by the staircase to place his coat on the rack, then up the stairs and into his room, not bothering to see if I was waiting up for him like I did every night since I was a little girl. Back then, it was always me and my mother waiting in my parent's room for my father to come home from work when he stayed late. I'd be sitting in bed with my mother watching television, when he'd come through their bedroom door, already in the process of removing his tie.

"Hi, Daddy, how was work?" I would exclaim, hopping up and down on the mattress. Behind me, my mother would laugh lovingly, and pat down my hair.

"Hey, kiddo, how's it going?" He would smile brightly, his voice full of love and happiness. I would launch myself into his arms, and he would hug me tight like he never wanted to let go, and back then, I never wanted him to. He would kiss my mother so passionately, and I remember always wanting to have a love like theirs once I was older. My parents were the prefect couple in my eyes, even more perfect than Barbie and Ken, who could just about do anything. If it was a Friday night, my parents and I would spend the night watching a movie, and most of the time, they'd let me do the choosing. I would always sit in between my parents on the bed, head lying comfortably on my mother's shoulder, while my feet rested contently in my father's lap. Everything was perfect back then, and my father and I were inseparable. But after the accident, things between us changed. He became a different person, and so did I. My father started working more, striving harder to make his mark on the business world. Something he never cared about before. He didn't laugh like he use to. He never waned to do anything besides work. Family movie nights stopped completely, and I hadn't stepped foot into my parents bedroom since I was eleven.

After fixing my bowl of cereal, I sat across from dad at the table, reaching for the sections of the newspaper he refused to read now. He deemed them as irrelevant or unimportant. If it wasn't the business section, then he wanted nothing to do with it. The silence between us used to be uneasy to me, but as time moved on, I begun to embrace it. It was the theme song of our relationship now; what once was full of laughs and happiness was nothing but a lifeless silence that consumes us equally. Each morning before he went to work, my father and I would collide in the kitchen. He would either be standing in front of the sink, his back facing me, drinking a cup of coffee; the other times he would be sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. Neither of us made a sound, just danced around the other like they wasn't even there.

"Dad, I might be a little late tonight because of rehearsal, and I have a dress fitting this afternoon," I informed him. My father simply murmured a response, not bothering to look up from his paper or stop drinking his coffee. Before the accident, breakfast in our house was always live and active. My mother would stand at the stove, flipping pancakes and singing old songs that were on the radio. Her long brown hair would be piled on top of her head, kept there by a butter knife. I would sit on the counter next to her, and watch until she was finished, entranced by it all. My father used to be outside talking with Mr. Larson, or in the living room watching Saturday morning cartoons. He would come into the kitchen, turn up the radio and start dancing with me and mother. I would giggle as he picked me up and spun me around in the air, and my mother would laugh from her spot on the other side of the room.

"Have a nice day at work." I said to him, as I walked towards the front door. I stood in the threads hold, waiting to hear him respond back, and just like all the other times before that, I was met with silence.

As I backed from the driveway, I waved to Amelia, who was loading the twins in their minivan. I glanced towards the house on my right, the Happy Movers vans starting to engross the street. I watched from my review mirror as a black BMW pulled into the driveway behind the movers. The windows were tinted, preventing me from seeing the person behind the wheel. It was clear to see from the appearance of their car, that my new neighbors liked to keep their personal lives to themselves.

The moment I walked through the doors of Hartford Bay High School, I knew I wasn't the only one that felt the population alter. People everywhere were whispering, predicting just who this new family was. I heard a rumor from Hilary Davies in first period, that the people living next to me were the family of a million dollar businessman, which owned the new mall just outside of town. Then, there was the rumor that the father was a congressman, looking to take over Hartford with his new political ideas. I wasn't opposed to that one, seeing as how our current mayor was doing little to help the people. Even Jeffery Keen, whom I never pegged as a gossiper, was weighting in on the newest residents. There was even a rumor two years ago that Amelia was an understudy on Broadway, but was fired after she broke the lead actress's leg to get her starring role. But of course, they all looked in my direction, waiting for me to confirm or deny the accusations, and it was happening all over again. They thought just because the new residents were living next to me, I was bound to know everything about them. When in reality, I hadn't even gotten a look at them, just the outside of their car.

After the bell rang ending first period, I grabbed my books and headed towards my locker. I walked briskly, not wanting anyone to stop me, and ask about the new people in town. I was almost there, when I felt the presents of someone else beside me. Glancing to the side of me, I mentally groaned when I blinded by the distinct color of auburn.

"Avery, is it true?" Belissa Granger asked, as I walked down the hall. Her voice was level, not a hint of emotion. That was the thing about Belissa; you never knew how to answer her questions exactly. I sighed softly, reaching my locker. I turned the lock, opening the door. Belissa stood against the locker to my right, waiting for an answer. I really wish they'd all just leave me alone. I didn't know anything.

"Belissa, I can't confirm nor deny it. I haven't even seen them yet." I told her carefully, almost hesitant. I placed my books into my locker, fishing out the ones I needed for next class.

Belissa's features displayed disappointment. She folded her arms across the front of her V-neck. The moment I thought the questioning was over, she perked right up. "What kind of car do they drive?" Belissa grinned, waiting for my answer. Her family was one of the richest in town, so the question didn't throw me off, as much as it would have coming from somebody else. Her father was some kind of business tycoon, and although you couldn't see it during school, Belissa always wore the latest trends. She and her friends spent every summer in California at her parent's summer home without them. She drove a white BMW and a black Audi. I was just about to answer her previous question when a voice rang between us.

"Excuse me, Belissa; you're standing on my locker." Belissa turned in the direction of the voice, and moved away.

"My apologies, Serenity, I didn't see you coming." Serenity moved to her locker, opening it rather loudly. Belissa snorted, before focusing her attention back to me. "Avery, everyone has been talking about the newest residents, and I just wanted to know if maybe you could give me something to write about them in the school paper."

I really should have known the only reason Belissa was wasting her time talking to me was because of the school's paper, HBH Gazette. She was after all, our school's resident gossip queen. There was even a spot dedicated for her in the paper for her to spread the lies she and her friends created. And the saddest thing about it all was that the column wasn't even anonymous like you'd expect. I groaned softy, trying my best to be polite, but the constant questions of my classmates was starting to grate my nerves.

"Uh, Belissa, didn't Avery already tell you that she didn't see her new neighbors this morning?" Serenity piped in, shoving a navy-blue jacket in her locker loudly.

Belissa jumped softly, her eyes cutting to the brown skinned girl on my left. Her eyes narrowed, one brow cocked, while the other lay flat, and her mouth was formed into some kind of a snarl. One thing Belissa Granger hated more than a natural tan was someone coming in between her and a good piece of gossip. Serenity didn't even spare a glance in Belissa's direction. Noticing this, Belissa huffed, before storming off down the hall to join her friends.

"Thank you." I smiled to my best friend, Serenity Wilson.

"No problem. You know I can't stand Belissa." She smiled back. I laughed. Serenity tossed her books inside, grabbing the ones she needed for our next class together. "Besides, Ave, I could sense the annoyance radiating off you from across campus."

I laughed softly, shaking my head. "I'm just so tired of people asking me about the newest residents, when I haven't even gotten a chance to look at them." I closed my locker, leaning against it, and waited for Serenity to finish. I looked down at all the pictures on the door of her locker. Most of them of me and her over the years, resembling the exact same ones decorated on my own locker door. After she was finished, we headed for second period.

"I'm about to sound like a total hypocrite right now," Serenity proclaimed, smiling sheepishly as we walked side-by-side. The halls were starting to clear, as we walked towards the front of the school. "-but, I really want to know what kind of car they were driving."

I stared wordlessly at her, before a smile broke onto my lips. "It was a black BMW."

There was a look on her face that made me slightly uncomfortable. "You know what that means, right?" I shook my head, hesitantly. "-it means that they're rich."

I stared back at her in disbelief, wondering how in the world she'd come up with that assumption. "And how in the world do you figure that?"

She laughed, sliding her arm around mine, linking them together. "It's all in the car." And she was right. I'd made the similar assumption just this morning, only I assumed they were a very private family. "You can tell a lot about a person, judging from the car they drive," she continued to explain.

Serenity's father owned a very successful car dealership outside of town, Harvey Motors, and she was always telling me things she'd learned from working with him some days during the summer when school was out. Ever since I'd known her, Serenity had been lovesick with cars. She knew everything about them: how they worked, how to fix them, when the first one was made, and so much more. There were times when she'd even drag me along to car shows, and I'd watch with bewilderment as she spoke what seemed to be another language with the owners. I always pitted the men that tried going toe-to-toe with her in a conversation about vintage cars, and things of that nature.

But currently, Serenity was on some kind of "honesty pact." It meant that she planned to tell people the truth about themselves no matter how bad it hurt their feelings, and to be honest with herself when it came to her feelings. She was working on her fourth week, and already things seemed to be going well. The day she told me about it, I was fairly shocked considering Serenity wasn't the type to sugarcoat anything. She was a very frank person most of the time. So when she came to me last month about the idea, I didn't know what to think.

The month was October, and the town was decorated for the festivities. There was a huge pumpkin in the middle of the downtown area. It was the same place they kept the giant paper mache turkey, the Christmas tree, and the New Year's globe. Serenity and I were scheduled to shop for Halloween costumes after her visit to the gym with her mother, Daphne Wilson. I'd been in my bedroom, sorting my headbands by colors and patterns, when she'd come bursting through the door, wearing a pair of blue shorts, a white tee-shirt, and matching sneakers.

"I have huge news." Serenity announced, plopping down on the bed behind me, the mattress making some sort of squeaking sound from the impact. I turned from my headband display case, very excited. Serenity always carried the best news, whether it is a new ice cream selection at my favorite parlor or a current sale at the mall just outside of town.

"What's the huge news?" I asked.

She brought her legs up on the bed, tucking them underneath her. I didn't even mind the fact that her shoes were on my newly washed comforter. She clapped her hands together in a prayer form, and pressed the top of her fingers to her bottom lip. She brought them down watchfully, squaring her shoulders, and announcing, "I'm taking an honesty pack."

I stared at my best friend, the girl I'd known since we were three years old on the playground and she offered me her pink shovel after Gregory Sanders stole mine from the sandbox. I didn't know what to say to her, my mind blank.

She took in my facial appearance, sighing profoundly. Serenity nodded, explaining herself, "I was at the gym, and this infomercial came on one of the TV's above the treadmills. It was all about honesty and how taking this vow of honesty could open up all kinds of new doors for your life."

I nodded slowly, although I still didn't draw together why she needed to do such a thing. "But, S, you're one of the most honest people I know."

She exhaled noisily, and then ran a hand through her long black hair. She grabbed a hand full of it, pilling it on top of her head, and then let it fall down her upper back. "Not all the time. I don't say what's on my mind most of the time because I don't want to hurt people's feelings."

This all had to be some kind of funny story, because Serenity Wilson was anything but empathetic towards other people's emotions, and not in a way where she thought she was better than them, but in a way where she believed the truth would liberate them.

"-like, what? I really want to know." I prompted her to go on, gesturing with my hands. I really wanted to know what she'd been holding back from me all this time.

"-like how I think that dress you wore to the Harvest Festival last November made you look like a walking pumpkin." She finished tentatively. I saw her eyeing me carefully, waiting for my reaction.

My jaw hung unbolted. I gaped at her with astonishment. I didn't know what to think, didn't know what to say. This was all so shocking, but I had to ask once I got my voice. "What else have you been holding back?"

Serenity smiled sheepishly, shrugging one shoulder. "You honestly don't want to know, but don't worry because they're not all about you."

I walked over to the bed, sitting down next to her. She laid her head on my shoulder, and I rested my head atop of hers. "I kind of figured that dress made me look ridiculous." She giggled softly, and I joined in.

I didn't know at the time, but down the line Serenity's vow of honesty was going to help me out so much in the coming months of my life. And a huge part of me was thankful that my best friend went to the gym that morning, rode those treadmills, and discovered the infomercial of precision.

We reached Mr. Henderson's class on the second floor hallway, a minute before the final bell sounded. Mr. Henderson was one of the elderly teachers. He constantly wore these light russet corduroy slacks that stopped just above his ankles. His crisp white button-down shirt was completed with a cherry tie, that was permanently discolored with coffee and yet he continued to wear it with delight. And he wore these shoes that made a dreadful squeaking noise whenever he walked around the room, which was very often.

The class was relatively full when we arrived, and Serenity and I took our seats beside each other in the back of the class room. My seat was near the back window, giving me an excellent view of the front entrance to the school. I watched as the cars passed, silently counting the number of red ones, as I waited for Mr. Henderson to begin the lesson. Beside me, I could hear the faint sound of Serenity's thumbs skating across the pad of her phone. In front of me, Belissa was filling her nails, the resonance loud against the drum of my ears. Johnny Ambusher was snoring between Belissa and Sandra Mills, the sound reminding me of a cargo train.

I sighed, turning back to the window, just in time to see a black BMW pull into the parking lot of the school. I couldn't rip my eyes away from the window, as the vehicle parked, and out stepped three people: a woman in her late thirties with loose curly brown hair and expensive clothes, a much older man with a graying beard and sour look, and the last person was a young male, tall and lean, face roofed by a black hoodie. He walked at a snail's pace behind the two adults, making no effort to catch up with them. I could barely see his face, but from his contour, I spotted a wave of dark brown hair, parallel to the woman's. The sentiment from earlier returned, striking me at full force.

In front of me, Belissa was glued to the window, too, not paying attention to Mr. Henderson as he began his lecture on American Poets in the 1800s. As a matter of fact, no one was making awareness of what was going on. We all just gaped out the window, watching as the newest residents of Hartford Bay made their grand entrance, providing Belissa Granger and the rest of us something to talk about. In front of the classroom, Mr. Henderson cleared his throat, but I couldn't bring myself to look away from the window. It seemed as if I was in a daze, even after they'd entered the building, and disappeared from sight.

"Miss Lane, if you would please open your book," Mr. Henderson nearly shouted in my direction, causing me to jump a little. I pulled my book forward, opening it to the page displayed on the board. Beside me, Serenity snapped her fingers, catching my attention. Silently, she asked if I was alright, and I nodded my head, waving her off. But in reality, the painful pit in my stomach was telling me I was far from alright.

By the time second period was over, everyone in the school that hadn't already knew about the sighting of the most recent populace found out, and it was all because of Belissa's vast cellphone contact list, and Lisa Mason's ability to send a text message to three hundred people in under one minute. It was nice to have the pressure off of me, and onto Belissa and her group of friends. They were use to spreading gossip and embellishing stories to make them sound superior.

"Will you look at her," Serenity said to me during lunch, as we walked toward our usual table under the tree. Belissa was sitting on top of the wooden table near the parking lot, legs crossed, as she fabricated the truth. I will never in my life understand a girl like that. "-she sees them for what, three seconds and she already thinks she knows them."

"Belissa just wants to have something to hold over everyone's head." I explained to Serenity, as I sat my tray down on the table.

"I agree with, Avery." Tabitha Shay, a friend both Serenity and I shared, pointed in my direction. She was already seated at the table, a brown bag in front of her. Tabitha was a very pale skinned girl, with bright olive eyes, and dirty tan hair that she always wore high in a ponytail on her head. "Belissa Granger just wants people to admire her for whatever reason it may be."

"Yeah, but you have to admit this is pretty big news for Hartford." Amanda Larson, my neighbor, chimed in. She bit into the apple in her hand, chewing slowly, and then swallowed. "I saw them this morning before school. That's why I was late to first period." I remembered seeing Amanda outside her house earlier that morning with her parents, trying to catch a peek at the new neighbors.

Serenity laughed, stabbing the salad on her plate with a fork. "That's just sad, Amanda." She tossed a leaf of lettuce in her direction. Amanda ducked underneath the table, just as the green vegetable landed in her flaxen colored hair. We all laughed as Amanda ran her hands over her head frantically in order to remove the lettuce.

Amanda stuck her tongue out at Serenity, and then ruffled her locks. "Anyway, I saw their son, and he's hot. And I'm not talking hometown-hottie-hot. I'm talking, California-sun-could-be-the-next-Rob-Pattinson-hot." She cocked her head to the side and smiled. I thought about this, as Amanda continued to describe the teenage boy she'd seen that morning on her front lawn. I compared him with the boy I'd seen less than two hours earlier, walking into our school. Across from me, Amanda was gushing about how she was going to approach him the next time she saw him outside, and ask his name and where he was from. Amanda was even talking about the possibility of the two of them dating and becoming the school's new 'It couple.'

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "How do you even know the guy is going to like you?"

Amanda scoffed, and then flipped her hair over one shoulder. "Because I have a plan, Tabby, that's why." She pointed her index finger to the top of her head.

"That's cool and all, but just please don't lower your standards." Tabitha stated firmly. "We don't want a repeat from two winters ago when you went out with Cameron Bagger."

Amanda turned away, before staring Tabitha in the eyes. "That will not happen to me again, alright. I learned my lesson." I glanced towards Serenity; the look of discomfort on her face mirrored my own.

Tabitha and Amanda had been best friends for as long as Serenity and I have been. And two years ago, when Amanda started dating football jock and all around bad boy, Cameron Bagger, their friendship was strained. Amanda became an absolute dissimilar person when she was with Cameron, and he treated her inadequately. It attained an all time high last winter, when Amanda and some of Cameron's friends were caught drinking and smoking in the bathroom at the Winter Ball. It was I, who had found them, and had no choice but to turn them in. Amanda and I didn't talk for a while after that. She'd said hurtful things to me that night as she was being hulled away by her parents. I didn't show how a great deal of her comments damaged me. Not even Serenity knew how I'd cried unaccompanied in a coat closet, after Amanda condemned me in front of the entire town. She apologized for it all after returning from a month with her grandparents in Florida, and I forgave her because it was the right thing to do at the time. But there was small part of me that abhorred Amanda for what she'd said to me.

"I can't believe Tabby brought up Cameron." Amanda complained to me, as we threw our trash away. I nodded kindly, before walking away.