Um, okay, I haven't posted anything new on this site in quite a while. And technically speaking, I have a work in progress that I should be finishing, but the writing bug bit me and I just have the urge to start a new story. I hope that you guys like it. I've written my fair share of teenage-y angst type stories, but this one has a twist in that the main characters are both females. I'm a little nervous to write a chapter story on the subject but shucks, I just can't help myself. Enjoy readers and as always, please review.


"You've got to be kidding me." I say lowly, dropping the folded, rectangle shaped piece of paper on my desk.

Brooke Sargenti.

I sigh, eyeing the paper one more time before glancing next to me where my best friend, Ella Knight, sat perched on the edge of her seat.

"Who'd you get paired up with, Mad? I have Chase Rodgers." The smile on her face is huge and I raise an eyebrow, silently cursing God himself.

"Henson stuck me with Brooke Sargenti. You know, that kleptomaniac weirdo from Park Ridge." I pinch the bridge of my nose, secretly eyeing her from across the classroom. She looks down at the similar retangle piece of paper on her own desk, looks up at me and smirks, shaking her head a little bit.

Ella's face contorts with confusion. "What do you mean, Henson stuck you with her? We picked our partners randomly."

I chuckle softly. "Mr. Henson knows I can't stand that freak, this cannot be a coincidence." I glance up at the aging teacher, his gray hair tied back in a loose pony tail. Yep, this liberal hippy has some kind of agenda, pairing me up with the school loser. A scowl starts to work its way across my face but before Ella has a chance to reply, said loser is flipping a chair around backwards and sliding into it, facing me.

"Look Blondie, I'm no more thrilled about this little set up than you are, but you can stop pouting over here and get over it. It's just a little creative writing project, not Daddy dicing up your American Express card."

I sit stupified, mouth slightly agape, amazed at the nerve this girl has. Thankfully my auto pilot kicks in and I regain my composure. I snort before saying, "Uh, news flash Freak, you actually have to matter to have any kind of impact on my life."

Sensing the awkward tension, Ella shoots me a thin lined smile before rising from her seat and moving across the classroom towards her assigned parter, Chase.

Instead of replying right away, she whips some of her chocolate brown hair behind her neck, and cocks her head at me. Finally she clucks her tongue, smirking again. "Maddie, I get that you've had to become some kind of super-bitch to get through high school, but for old time's sake, let's just get through this project without any major drama. I've got enough of that going on."

Instinctively my brain tells me to jump on that last comment and retort with something awful, but at her mention of old time's sake, I find myself once again without a voice.

You see, Brooke Sargenti wasn't just the high school loser. Believe me, I wish it were that simple. Brooke stood for everything I left behind four years ago. She and I grew up across the street from eachother in Park Ridge, which, lets just say isn't the nicest part of town. Her and I were as close as two friends could be, until everything between us changed.

When we were about to go into eighth grade, my mother began dating and eventually marrying a wealthy Wall Street broker named Paul, which took me out of Park Ridge and into Fox Hills. That meant I rode out the rest of my eighth grade year at Hillcrest, a very private, expensive middle school. I lost touch with Brooke for that whole year, and when I started attending high school at James Alexander, I remember breathing a sigh of relief when I didn't notice Brooke walking around. I assumed she was attending a less than average high school in Park Ridge, and I wouldn't have to worry about introducing my old best friend to the preppy clique that I associated with now from Hillcrest.

She clears her throat, snapping me from my thoughts. "Hello? Anybody home in there?" She asks, waving a hand dramatically in front of my face.

I laugh almost nervously. "Um, yeah, sorry. I just - uh, here." I take out my cell phone and slide it across my desk to her. She quirks an eyebrow and looks at me skeptically.

"You don't talk to me for three years and now you want to give me your cell phone? I'm touched, Madison, really."

I roll my eyes. "No, Moron, I meant put your number in it so I can call you to work on this thing. I have dance after school, there's no way I'm going to have time tonight."

She gives me an almost genuine half-smile, before silently entering her info into my phone, handing it back to me without a word. She goes to say something, I can tell by her eyes, but the bell rings, cutting her off.

"So, um, guess I'll talk to you later then." She says awkwardly, falling into stride with me as we file out of the classroom. Almost as if she senses the panic rising in my stomach at the glances we receive walking together, she walks away from me in the opposite direction, not even looking my way.

I let out a sigh of relief, walking as quickly as I can to the nearest bathroom. As I close the door to the stall and sit down, I can't help but feel disgusted with myself. Why now? I silently plead. One year, that was all I needed. One more year and I'd be out of here. Away from my alcoholic mother, my verbally abusive stepfather and all the guilt and shame I've carried with me over the years. The last thing I need is to spend alone time with the one person that knew me, that knew the real Madison Green. And that knew that whoever I was trying to be for the last five years, definitely wasn't me.