"Girls, are you ready yet?"

Clinton and Gretchen's mom peeked into the room. The 18-year-old girls seemed to be pouting. While Gretchen was primping with her hair in the mirror wearing a sour look on her face, Clinton was slumping in a chair with her legs spread in an unladylike fashion.

"Clinton!" Nora yelped as she stepped into the bedroom, "why are you sitting like a-a-"

"A dyke?" Gretchen turned away from her reflection in the mirror to snicker.

Clinton stuck up her middle finger at her prissy sister.

"Everyone is waiting to meet you two. When are you coming down?"

"I'm almost ready," Gretchen said.

Clinton smirked and looked at her sister, "She's just waiting for me. She's scared to go down by herself."

"Am not!" Gretchen turned around wielding her hairbrush like a weapon.

"Well you already got on your little cutesy girl outfit. Your hair is done. You seem ready to me."

"But you're not!" Nora said walking over to Clinton, fussing with her hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. "Put on something nice Clint."

"She has tons of stuff nice but she doesn't wear any of it," Gretchen said smoothing her white skirt. She wore a pink baby doll t-shirt with a white light cotton blazer and a pleated skirt. Her long light brown blonde streaked hair was in loose curls down her back. She wore high-heeled strappy sandals, which increased her five foot six frame to about five foot eight. Clinton looked at her sister enviously sometimes. It was obvious she was the pretty one. Everyone always mistook her for Christina Milian back in New York. Sometimes she played it up by wearing huge "movie star incognito" shades and a baseball cap, the one thing NOT to wear if you don't want to get noticed. She had a complexion, which was smooth and lighter than honey but tanned and healthy. Although she sometimes had a problem with breakouts her face was indubitably beautiful. She was in proportion from her impossibly tiny waist to her hips, which slightly flared, and her perky little bust. She knew she was the "cuter" of the girls, and she flaunted it whenever she could.

Clinton was wearing a rugby shirt from her old prep school back in New York. Never mind that there was no female rugby team, she still wore the smallest size shirt she could find and hoping one day that she'd be the first and only girl to get on it. She had a darker honey-butterscotch complexion that was as smooth and flawless as if she'd been airbrushed. Her sister Gretchen was secretly jealous of the way her skin glowed. She had a young-ish face and any hint of bold make up made her look as if she were playing at dress up. She was about five foot four and had a thicker body than her older sister, who called her "Big Butt". She hid her shape under less than fitted clothes. She'd opt for baggy clothes, but the baggier the clothes the more her mother would complain and secretly throw them out. She tried to get away with being as non descript and unnoticeable as possible, but her mother kept giving her pep talks about her inner "beauty". Clinton didn't want to hear it. She was even more rebellious now that they moved to Beverly Hills. It was more the reason why they moved which made Clinton and even her sister Gretchen so sullen and defiant.

Five years ago Nora Wilson divorced her husband Avery, infamous New York media mogul, ending their fourteen-year marriage. Though the marriage shook the girls up, they remained comfortable within their life in New York. Gretchen was becoming a "society girl" and Clinton enjoyed the anonymity of the large looming metropolis. While her sister partied, Clinton wound her way through parks and museums all over the five boroughs. She hung out in coffee shops and restaurants sketching quietly. She wasn't a happy teenager, and she never really had even been a happy child when her parents were together, but New York is all she knew and loved and she didn't even dream of seeing herself someplace else, especially someplace as drastically different as the west coast.

About two years ago Nora met wealthy and successful real estate lawyer August Phillips. However, it was about a year and a half into their relationship before her daughters ever really met him. Nora arranged a meeting with her new beau and her girls once she realized how serious the relationship had gotten. It was during this meeting, at a stuffy and frou frou New York restaurant that Nora and August announced their engagement. But before the girls' jaws hit the ground because of that announcement, merely meeting August was enough to leave them stunned with mouths hanging wide open.

"He's white!" Gretchen had whispered to her sister in the restaurant's bathroom after they'd met the tall masculine blonde haired blue-eyed man.

Clinton washed her hands. "It's not like you've never wanted to date a white guy before. When that Justin Timberlake album first came out you went crazy."

"I'm just so surprised." Gretchen had said, leaning up against a wall. The preparatory school they had gone to in New York was rare in the fact that it was "historically black", once known as an alternative to the "whites only" prep schools that the few over privileged, rich, and elitist people of color in the city couldn't get their children into. There was almost virtually no difference in student culture. The black over privileged kids were just as materialistic and spoiled as other kids in "white schools". They wore the "prep" look and many emulated street culture and language to be cool. Others were label and status conscious fashion slaves who tried to emulate hipsters and movie stars. Quite a few students were a mixture of these two. Plus, though the school that the Wilson sisters went to was mostly black, there were whites and other races and ethnicities that attended. People from their school mixed with people from others all over the city socially. Gretchen hung out with a crowd made up of many different types of people, but for some reason she didn't even fathom the idea that her mom could be engaged to someone white.

"It's just that you know, Mom and dad have always been like 'respect your heritage' and 'realize where you come from' and 'don't change'. And you know how Dad is always trying to tell us about how poor he was and how racist it used to be in the olden days."

Clinton rolled her eyes. Though Gretchen was a year and a half older than her, sometimes she felt like the older and wiser sister. " 'Olden days' Gretch? 'Used to be'? Wow."

"You know what I mean though, it's just unexpected."

"You're just used to seeing Mom and Dad together."

"Aren't you? We haven't even HEARD of Mom dating someone else."

"Umm yeah, she has dated since the divorce. She's just never brought any of her boy toys around us."

"Well, Dad found a black woman to get with."

Clinton snickered. Her father's girlfriend was nearly half of his age. "Yeah a 'woman'. She's not that much older than us."

"Well still, this is bananas."

"Doesn't matter if he's white or not," Clinton said "I'm probably not gonna like him regardless."

"Me neither!" Gretchen said crossing her arms tightly. "Well, he is cute though."

"See, I knew you had jungle fever."

"Shut up!"

"You want me to, 'Rock Your Body'?" Clinton sung mimicking the popular Timberlake song.

"Shut up!" Gretchen laughed shoving her sister playfully.

"His posters are all over you room," Clinton joked, making her sister laugh. Most of the time they were at odds with each other but there were moments when they could get along and connect. Banding together against their mom and this stranger that they just met seemed like a good enough adhesive.

As they walked out of the bathroom to rejoin their Mom and soon to be stepfather, Gretchen asked, "So do we be mean to him or what?"

" I'm not going to."

"But aren't you mad?" Gretchen whispered, standing in front of her sister, stopping her in her tracks.

"Dad and Mom are never getting back together. Besides when you met Dad's supermodel girlfriend, you sure didn't give her that hard of a time."

"She got me backstage at the Fendi show! What was I supposed to do?"

Clinton rolled her eyes, "Keep your dignity. Man, you're so easy."

"Fuck off." Gretchen whispered, starting to walk back towards their table. "He doesn't look like he can get me backstage anywhere."

"Well as far as I'm concerned she can do whatever she wants. As long as things stay the same, I'm good."

"You don't think anything is going to change?"

Although Clinton considered herself wise, she didn't realize how na‹ve she really was.

"No. Why should it?"

As she and her sister sat back down at the table, she didn't think of what this engagement and marriage was going to do to all of their lives. Self absorbed, and in denial, Clinton believed that things could go on the way they were.

Months after that first encounter, August tried to spend as much time with his new black "daughters" as he could. He kept mentioning the fact that he had a son on the west coast, and that he had wanted them to meet. Clinton and Gretchen were reluctant, as was probably his son, who had never made any of the trips to New York that his father claimed he would make during holidays. "I think he's going to come for Christmas!" August would say enthusiastically, only for the boy to never show up.

Eventually, their mother broke the news that they were moving out west. "That's where August's business is," their mother explained. "He was only in New York for the last six months because he was closing a huge deal."

The girls were angry and crushed for mostly different reasons. But the one thing they had in common is that they would miss their father. Even though he was hardly around and always working, he was just a phone call away from buying them "guilt gifts" and letting them crash in his loft apartment in the village or at his townhouse in Brooklyn Heights. He was funny, charming and ebullient. He always had a way of making people feel good. Gretchen enjoyed manipulating him to get what she wanted and Clinton enjoyed making him feel guilty by pouting and being sullen. Either way, it was way more attention then they'd ever gotten from their mother after the divorce, who seemed to be going through what she called a "rebirth". Clinton called it a mid life crisis, and realized that both of her parents were probably suffering from this malady. Their mother, a very beautiful exotic woman with light skin like Gretchen and dark and striking features like Clinton was an opera instructor who taught at Julliard. She decided to open up her own talent agency that only dealt with clients in the fine arts. Now she was busy all of the time, much like their father, but for some reason the girls were most resentful toward their mother for paying less attention to them. For she was the one who was always there for them, every day, and now she was changing. Their father had been working hard, steady, and had been hard to find since they days they were born. This didn't bother them as much, but the mere fact that he left was what they often made him feel guilty about.

Gretchen didn't want to move because she had begun to make a name for herself here, or so she thought. She began hanging out with rich heiresses and the teenaged kids of movie stars. She enjoyed the club scene, which was easy because neither of her parents kept strict tabs on her. Her whole life was here, and so was her popularity. She wanted to get into fashion and design and she thought she was making the right connections to get where she wanted. Los Angeles was fine for visiting, fabulous even, but her life was here.

Clinton just couldn't picture herself among the vapid and shallow people of the west coast. She didn't want to go to school with girls for whom plastic surgery was a common rite of passage. She didn't want sunny days and open spaces. She wanted cloudy overcast days where she could hide among the crowded streets and tall buildings of the city. Where she could blend in on the subway, riding it back and forth for hours listening to her MP3 player or sketching in her book. She was making some headway with joining the rugby team. She was a top player in the tennis club she belonged to. She was going to go to NYU's art school or Cooper Union and get her own apartment and ignore her family for as long as possible. But, here is where her plans were dashed. Now she was sitting here in her sister's new bedroom pouting. There was a sort of welcoming party down in the backyard where the girls would finally meet August's son, their new neighbors and some of their schoolmates.

"Clint," Nora said, "Would you please wear something nicer than those old ripped up jeans and that rugby shirt? And those dirty sneakers.uggggh!" Nora said shaking her head.

"Yeah Clinton, you're going to embarrass me." Gretchen teased.

"This is what I wear anyway."

"They are going to think you're a dyke!" Gretchen yelled.

"Gretchen, I told you to stop calling your sister that."

"But Mom."

"Look, I want both of you to be downstairs in five minutes. Clinton," She turned to the girl, "Find something better to wear than that ugly shirt and those old ratty jeans." And with that she slammed the door.

"Shit, you heard her." Gretchen said applying lip-gloss. "Hurry up."

"Why don't you just go down without me?" Clinton smirked, knowing her sister was too intimidated to go down by herself.

"You know what, maybe I will." Gretchen threatened.

"Well if you do then you won't be 'embarrassed' by me."

"Too late." Gretchen snapped.

"Fine. Go ahead." Clinton said, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest.

They stared at each other for a few moments before Gretchen sucked her teeth and said, "Oh okay, come on, lets find you something to wear before Mom has a Bitch Fit."



Gretchen had managed to get her sister to wear an outfit that was somewhat stylish and definitely less frumpy than the one she'd worn only moments earlier. Her sister wore a bright yellow polo top with a white newsboy cap and fitted stone washed jeans with a white belt. Her sneakers just happened to be yellow and white, coordinating with the outfit well. Gretchen also managed to get Clinton to wear dangling white earrings. Clinton had no idea how much of this stuff she had in her closet. Her mother and sister were always buying clothes and things for her to wear but she always just ignored them, throwing them in her closet or in a drawer. Of course for Gretchen, the motive wasn't just to improve her sister's appearance but to make Clinton "less embarrassing" to herself in public. Gretchen put together the outfit right away, seeming to know where everything was even though things were still packed away in boxes and trunks.

All eyes were on them as they made their way out to the garden party. There was the strong smell of charcoal and flowers in the air and they weaved their way through partygoers who stared at them with fake plastic grins as they held their wine glasses. The younger attendees seemed to stare at them with curiosity. They were most likely kids who'd they'd be going to school with. Gretchen remained timidly behind her younger sister, who with no idea of where to go, instinctively looked for their mother. But before they could find her, August spotted the girls. He turned around and smiled broadly as he approached them.

"There are my girls!" He said in a sort of "jive" street accent. Gretchen reddened with embarrassment and Clinton managed to snicker though she was mortified.

He came over between them and placed an arm over each girl's shoulder. "I'm glad you could finally make it down here. I guess beauty takes time?" The girls smiled politely as they looked around at the other guests at the party who seemed to all be staring directly at them.

"Oh my God." Clinton muttered to herself, suddenly catching a case of stage fright. This was nothing like the subdued New York parties her parents hosted and were invited to. Everyone here was bright, shiny, made up, and showy. There were fake smiles and critical glances both thrown their way as everyone devoured the sisters with their eyes. Clinton felt like prey fed to sharks.

"Everyone, these are my soon to be stepdaughters Clinton and Gretchen."

People said hello to them and Gretchen smiled and nodded as Clinton gave a halfhearted wave. "Aren't they beautiful? They are both quite the athletes, it turns out. Gretchen was on the cheerleader squad in her old high school."

"We made it to nationals." Gretchen smiled, surprising Clinton. Clinton should've known that her sister couldn't resist blatant fawning.

"And Clinton plays rugby."

Clinton noticed a few strange looks from her audience, realizing that they did not expect to hear this. She knew they automatically thought things about her, like she was probably gay because of this and her lack of outward femininity. But this wasn't true. Clinton was athletic and less "girly girl" than her sister but she liked boys. She just was too embarrassed to talk bout it. And since no boys had ever liked her back, she didn't understand how dressing up all girly was going to do anything about it when all the boys really wanted was her sister.

"And she plays tennis," Gretchen said, surprising Clinton once again as she wondered why her sister was trying to sell her too. "She does lots of stuff like basketball and soccer and everything."

"Yes, and speaking of that and rugby, you guys need to meet Kelly."

Clinton's heart beat fast in her chest and she wondered if her sister felt the same way. They were reluctant in meeting August's son for some reason, especially on his own turf here in Beverly Hills. They knew he was a popular football jock and since he'd never come to New York even once to meet them, or even to the engagement party, they thought that he automatically didn't like them or their mother. They talked about him amongst themselves and made jokes at his expense in order to make themselves feel less intimidated. Why would they want to meet a snobby jock whose friends were going to be all around to back him up and to kiss his butt? Clinton had already measured up this guy in her mind. He wanted to meet them on his turf and on his terms. Control. It was simply about control. Every time she thought about this it made her angry, because she remembered how she lost her control as soon as her mother got engaged. She used to be the master of her own domain in New York, doing what she wanted, when she wanted and how she wanted. Her parents always seemed anxious to please her even though they didn't know how. They tried to ply her with material things but when that didn't work (because she really wasn't interested in material things) they gave her as much freedom as she could stand. Even too much sometimes, assuming that she was ultra independent and mature enough not to need any parental interaction at all. But suddenly, that was taken all away.

Who had it all though? Kelly Phillips. And they were about to meet the punk. She glanced over at her sister who was biting her bottom lip. She always did this when she was nervous.

August walked the girls over to his son, who stood amongst a small circle of his friends. Clinton gulped. He seemed to be much bigger than in his picture. He was huge for a kid who had barely turned twenty. He was six foot one, and all muscle, as if he were a body builder. He had to be nearing two hundred and fifty pounds. His body had a cone shape: broad shoulders and chest and a somewhat smaller torso. When he turned around the smile that had been on his face had dissipated. It didn't look like one of disdain or anything like that, but Clinton couldn't really read it. He had short brown hair that was so light it looked blonde, and deep dark blue eyes. He had angular striking features and a strong jaw. He looked clean cut, and nice looking, like the boy next door. While this impressed Gretchen it made Clinton gag in irony. He wore his polo shirt with the collar turned up, like so many of her preppy classmates had in mimicking style like Kanye West. His khaki shorts were somewhat long and "baggy" and he wore new expensive football shoes. He carried himself with what Clinton regarded as a poser, "I'm somewhat down with the streets" type of body language. It was somewhat showy, arrogant, and self-conscious. In other words he had seemed like every other jock preppy asshole she had met from her and other expensive prep schools in New York. She was immediately disgusted. His friends carried themselves in the same way. The girls, though somewhat attractive, seemed like future sorority trash. Clinton was not impressed at all.

"Kelly?" August said.

"Pops," Kelly answered as he nodded. Clinton noticed that he had a lot of bass in his voice.

"I want you to meet your new soon to be stepsisters." Clinton cringed. She had hoped he would stop saying "Soon to be" and putting "Step" in front of everything.

"This is Gretchen," he nodded towards the smiling girl. "And this is Clinton.you know they are both quite the athletes and."

"Yeah, I know," Kelly cut his father off, "One's a cheerleader the other plays rugby and tennis." He nodded towards the girls, "Hey."

"Hey." They said in unison.

"Well," August said, "I'll just let you get acquainted. You know, Kelly used to go to the high school you girls will be finishing up in. He's still very active in the school. He's like a hero over there." August beamed, "He's gonna go pro after college, right son."

"Whatever you say Pops."

"Well, feel free to pick his brain and have him show you around here." August said, slipping away.

The girls were left with Kelly and the small group of people, presumably his friends. "So, you'll be going to Briarwood, how was your school like in New York?" Kelly asked.

Before either girl could answer, a blonde one piped in, "It'll probably be different than a prep school in Beverly Hills Kelly."

Clinton grimaced, and Gretchen recognized that look on her sister's face. "Uh Oh." Gretchen thought to herself, "She's about to get all anti-social."

"Why different?" Clinton asked the girl.

"Well," The girl said brushing hair away from her face, "I'm just saying you'll probably be going to school with different kinds of kids than in Harlem."

Gretchen winced. Her sister was probably pissed.

"They're kind of snobby and stuff." Another girl piped in. This one was a brunette.

"Do you two go to Briarwood?" Gretchen asked nervously, trying to change the subject.

"Yeah," the blonde said, "everyone comes from money so it can be really hard."

"Well first of all," Clinton said, "We did not go to school in HARLEM. We went to school on the Upper East Side so we're used to snobby kids who come from money."

Gretchen smiled nervously as she squeezed her sister's elbow. "Yeah we are, ha ha!" Gretchen tried to lighten the mood, hoping this awkwardness would pass but the blonde just wouldn't shut up.

"So were you guys on a scholarship there?"

"Why would we be on scholarship?" Clinton asked. The two girls looked at each other,

"Ummm. Uhhh." Neither of them could answer.

"We're just saying you know, I mean I know how it is. My maid's son is on scholarship at Briarwood, and its funny when you deal with kids who come from money 'cause they can be real stupid and shallow. So I totally understand."

Clinton smiled and shook her head. She couldn't believe the irony in this girl's statement.

"You are SO right." Clinton began but her sister cut her off.

"Well we know how kids who 'come from money' are because we are kids who 'come from money'." Gretchen laughed.

"Ohhhhhhh," Everyone seemed to say except Kelly who seemed to play it low-key the background, observing this little interaction with amusement.

"Yeah we don't need a scholarship. We never did. We never will. My sister's whole wardrobe is probably worth two years of tuition at Briarwood, so whatever," Clinton rolled her eyes.

Kelly laughed, "Seems like someone brought some of that 'New York Attitude' with her?"

"She's normally not like this," Gretchen tried to explain.

"Don't make excuses for me," Clinton said pulling away from her sister. "I'm always like this. I want you all to know that. I'll never let you stupid fucks talk down to me or my sister just because you're ignorant."

A collective gasp went around the group. "Clint-on!" Gretchen said in two exaggerated syllables, mortified.

"Whoa whoa whoa,whoa. Who do you think you are talking to my peeps like that?"

"Your 'peeps' are idiots. And since you're known by the company you keep maybe you are one too."

A few Ohhhs and a "she played you son" came from the male side of the group.

"Are you talking to me?" He said stepping in front of her and staring down at her.

Clinton looked around sarcastically, "What other big dumb steroided up idiot WOULD I be talking too?" She asked.

Gretchen covered her face, "Ohmygawd."

"You think just because you 'play rugby', that you hold weight with me? You can't talk to me like that."

"THEY can't talk to US like that," Clinton said motioning between she and her sister. "And you let them. That makes you as bad as them."

He looked at Gretchen and pointed at Clinton, "Can you control your sister?"

"Why don't YOU control your FRIENDS?" Clinton said glaring up at him.

"What is your problem!" The blonde asked, "You're so rude!"

"You're an idiot!"

"Okay, let's go," Gretchen said trying to pull her sister away.

"Shorty, is out of line." Kelly mumbled to his friends.

"'Shorty?'" Clinton laughed as her sister pulled her away, "You can't be serious suburb thug! What kind of twenty year old hangs out with high school kids anyway!"

Kelly just shook his head and sipped whatever was in his cup.

Gretchen pulled her sister to a quiet part of the yard behind a large and tall tree. "What the hell Clint?"

"You gonna let those bitches talk about us like that?"

"What's gotten into you!"

"They're SO racist! And you wanna laugh and giggle like shit is all good."

"It's not the end of the world Clinton!" Gretchen said raising her voice. "You don't have to quarrel with every person. There's a time and a place for every battle."

"You sound like Mom." Clinton laughed, realizing that she might about to be getting a lecture from her older sister. It felt bizarre.

"She's right. You always argue. You always fight. You always think someone is trying to get something over on you. Get over yourself!"

"Look at that stereotypical BS Gretch!" Clinton said motioning over to the area they once were.

"Yeah, you noting that my wardrobe cost more money than tuition and being all angry and defiant about whitey.that SURE isn't stereotypical. You set them straight."

Clinton was becoming even angrier. Her sister was actually being sarcastic and pulling it off well. She seemed to be clear and lucid but why now, why not back there?

"Whose side are you on Gretchen?"

Gretchen shook her head, "We've gotta make the best out of this."

"You're such a HYPOCRITE! You weren't saying that before!"

"I'm saying it now."

"Oh, now you're my big sister who puts her foot down and leads by example."

Gretchen grunted in frustration, "Would you just listen to me?"

"Some example, you sat there while they picked us apart."

"I did correct them. I said one thing. That was enough to set them straight. We could've been their friends after that and they would've felt stupid for what they said and maybe apologized."

"Fuck that." Gretchen snickered, "friends.spare me."

"They could've at least respected us. Now they think we're psycho black girls with an attitude."

"So? Why do you care so much about what people think?"

"I didn't care. You did. That's why you went off on them."

"You're so stupid you don't even realize that they look down on us."

Gretchen shook her head as she walked away, "Whatever, Clint. Whatever."

Clinton slumped down onto the grass, her back against the trunk of the tree. She felt tears gather in her eyes as her older sister walked away from her. Whenever she felt like this she could hide in her room or find someplace to brood. She wasn't about to trek back across this football field size of a backyard to head into the house, where she'd get ugly stares and possibly intercepted by her mother, who by the way, had abandoned all protocol that she usually upheld before by not coming into her room and encroaching upon her space. For the last few months, she's been trying to be "involved" in her children's lives. Clinton wasn't used to it. The very thought of it made her claustrophobic.

Though Clinton was mostly a quiet girl, she was prone to emotional outbursts from time to time and no one understood her when this happened. These were one of those times. She felt the tears coming, she wanted to cry but not out here, not out in the open. She had no idea where to go. In New York, she had so much freedom. She knew where everything was. She didn't even have her own room to go too. Sure, she had one in August's house but it didn't feel like hers.

So, she did the only thing she could think of. She climbed up into the tree she sat under, sitting inside the branches hiding, crying, and realizing that there was nothing more she could do to protect herself.



During Nora and August's honeymoon, the girls went back to New York to stay with their father. For those three weeks that summer they avoided each other as much as possible, arguing whenever they did talk. Though she was used to squabbling and generally not getting along with Gretchen regularly, Clinton felt uneasy whenever she had a real argument with her sister, especially if it was a long standing issue, especially if she felt betrayed and abandoned by her. How could she turn against her? Clinton thought. "What a hypocrite," she said to herself when thinking about her sister.

Clinton knew that those three weeks back in New York was her opportunity to ease her way out of this situation that she was put in. She needed to plan her escape. She felt trapped in Beverly Hills, and she detested everyone around her, including August, Nora, her sister and Kelly, who, though lived on campus this semester seemed to be home all of the time. August and Nora were delighted.

Gretchen was still trying to get on Kelly's good side and it seemed to be working. He seemed to have more than two words to say to her while he completely ignored Clinton after their confrontation. Nora had wanted to "punish" Clinton for the incident. The very idea of this made Clinton hysterical. She had never been punished or threatened with punishment in her entire life! Her parents just weren't like that with her. They let her be. Now her mom was trying to micromanage every detail of life. It was just another example of how things had changed. August, attempting to play "Good Cop" convinced Nora to let the situation go. But even after that things remained chilly between Clinton and everyone else in the house-which all seemed to be getting along and having fun. Nora was having such a good time that it seemed she forgot Clinton was pouting after awhile, and her wedding went off without a hitch, even if Clinton had refused to smile during the photos.

Now, those three weeks spent with her father, or at least living at his home as he jet settled about the city and beyond, were used to plot her way back into Manhattan. She had tried every manipulation she could, every device to make her father budge but, "No Clinton, I'm sorry baby but you can't live with me right now. Daddy's life is hectic and there'll be no one here to really watch out for you."

"There was no one there before." Clinton pouted.

"Well there is now. You're mother is taking a break from her career to raise you and be there for you. The schools are great, the neighborhood is nice. It's a great place to grow up."

"I'm a junior in high school dad! I've done my growing up. I want to stay here, please," Clinton begged almost resorting to tears. "You don't understand it, no one likes me there.they're so snobby and judgmental."

"What's so different there than it is here in the circles you and your sister run in?"

"That's just it, I don't 'run' in any circles here. I just do me. But I can't out there. I don't have any freedom. Mom is always on my back. I don't know the city at all. I don't have a car."

"Tell you what, when you get your license we'll get you one,"

"I don't want a car I want to take the train!"

"Clinton, honey, I'm sorry," Avery said trying to stifle laughter. "But your mother and I agreed upon this. I can't go back on that. I'd love to have you here, but I want you to be there where someone will look after you better. You're not grown yet ."

"I'm not a bad kid Daddy. I'm not going to get into any trouble. I'll stay by myself, and I wont get into anything." Clinton pouted, tucking her knees into her chest as she sat on the floor propped up against a wall.

"Maybe that's the problem sugar. You can't isolate yourself forever. You have to try something new. Get into something, anything."

Their talks did nothing to budge Avery from his position. And this depressed her even more as she realized that there was no escape from Beverly Hills.



It was a sunny day on the Briarwood campus. The warm days of summer hadn't really left yet and the overall spirit of the school was excited and hyperactive. The only person who really didn't feel that way was Clinton. She and Gretchen had gone through a week of classes already. It was 3:15 p.m., and classes were done for the day. She waited in the parking lot next to her sister's almost new hot pink Cabriolet. When Gretchen had heard that Avery offered to buy Clinton a car, she quickly learned to drive that summer, getting her license as soon as possible. Kelly had taught her. Yuck, though Clinton. She thought her sister Gretchen was such a kiss ass. She knew her sister just wanted to be down with all of the kids who worshipped at Kelly the jock's feet. August offered to teach her how to drive or at least sign her up for lessons but Clinton refused. She had no motivation to learn how. Of course, this meant that Gretchen was stuck with giving her sister rides to and from school every day. Gretchen didn't like this one bit, and Clinton knew it. She just didn't care. They still weren't on real speaking terms ever since that day at the party.

She looked at her watch again realizing that it was 3:20. "Fuck," thought Clinton, "this chick is fifteen minutes late". She huffed and dug around in her backpack to find her cell phone. When she called her sister, all she got was her voicemail greeting.

"Where is she?" Clinton thought, watching other kids head out to their cars and pull off. She didn't want to be stuck there waiting forever, looking like a complete loser. She hated waiting for people, even though she had nothing else really better to do.

"I'll have to go and find her," Clinton grunted, realizing that Gretchen was probably hanging around the football field where the other cheerleaders hung out. Gretchen wanted to be one of them so badly.

She took the long walk over to the field, but there were no cheerleaders in sight.

"Dammit," she cursed under her breath as she walked out onto the field. She was about to give up and go back to the parking lot when she heard voices coming from one of the double doors within a recess of the stadium. It looked like the players entrance. Clinton cautiously approached the set of double doors. To her surprise it was open. She slowly cracked a door open, seeing the backs of a couple of female cheerleaders as they ran down a corridor and disappeared into a doorway. Maybe Gretchen was hanging out back here.

She slowly walked down the brightly lit corridor towards the doorway she saw the two girls disappear into. The closer she got, the louder the voices became, suddenly she heard her sister's voice, "I'm not really into this."

Clinton furrowed her brows, wondering what was going on as she slipped inside of the locker room. There were rows and rows of lockers and benches but she didn't see anyone. The voices were getting louder as she slowly approached them. She realized that the group of girls, which included her sister, was all the way at the southwestern corner of the room, all the way across from where her own position was. The group of girls was huddled around her sister who straddled a wooden bench. Clinton peeked around a locker as she listened to their conversation.

"Come on, Gretchen it's no big deal.its sort of like.initiation." She recognized the blonde girl from the altercation she had a couple of months ago.

The brown haired girl said, "Yeah, we're gonna pick you during tryouts anyway. This is just something to prove your solidarity."

Clinton watched as her sister looked around at the three girls almost seeming scared. She bit her bottom lip the way she does when she's nervous. What on earth did they want her to do?

"Okay, I'll do it but you guys can't tell anyone." Gretchen finally said.

"Why would we? We don't want anyone to know either," The blonde giggled.

Clinton realized that if she had wanted to watch whatever was going to happen transpire, that she needed a better hiding place and a better view. She realized that a row of shower stalls were right across the way from the girls so she crept into one of them unnoticed, peeking out of the partially opened door of the stall.

"Okay, it's showtime," Gretchen said as she stood up, reaching under her skirt and pulling down her panties.

Clinton nearly gasped. What was going on here?

The blonde told her sister to turn around, so now Gretchen's back was facing Clinton.

"Lay flat," said the brunette.

Gretchen laid down flat on the wooden bench with her skirt hiked over her hips, her shaved pussy mound exposed. Clinton felt her face flushing as she watched two other girls she'd never seen before kneel on either side of her sister, propping each one of her knees upon their shoulders. Gretchen's thighs were spread apart and held open, her knees supported on two giggly girls' shoulders. Finally the blonde said, "My turn." She kneeled in front of Gretchen and began to lick at her sister's pussy lips. All of the other girls ooohed and aaahed as she did this.

"Doesn't it feel good?" Asked the brunette.

"Weird," Gretchen said, her eyes closed as the girl continued to lick her slit. Suddenly the girl began to make slurping noises as she licked Gretchen's pussy. One of the girls who held up one of Gretchen's legs said, "Yeah, dig that tongue into that pussy."

All of a sudden Gretchen began to moan, "Ohhh Gawwwd!"

Clinton couldn't believe what she was seeing or hearing. Suddenly the brunette girl began unbuttoning her sister's blouse, exposing her pert breasts. Clinton saw pointy nipples resting in the center of light brown areolas. The brunette began to rub and caress the nipples roughly, pinching them between her fingers. Gretchen only moaned louder, and suddenly all of the other girls were moaning too as they licked rubbed and touched her svelte little body.

Clinton was ashamed, embarrassed, furious, yet she couldn't pull her eyes away. There was also a hot sensation between her legs that she'd never really noticed experiencing before until now.

"My turn," the brunette spoke up, abandoning Gretchen's breasts and taking the blonde's place between Gretchen's legs. Now the blonde was playing with Gretchen's breasts, sucking and licking at them, making Gretchen moan even harder and louder. The brunette slurped and licked at Gretchen's pussy as one of the other girls said, "Yeah, suck that clit."

It wasn't long before Gretchen was humping the air, trying to get the brunette's face as close as possible to her pussy, "Oh My GOD!" she yelled.

"She's cumming!" Someone said as Gretchen growled out during her climax.

"Did she pass the taste test?" One of them asked as Gretchen came down from her high.

"Most definitely."

Clinton managed to sneak out and be waiting at the car before her sister. It was 4:17 p.m. They were really late and she knew their mother would bitch and moan about it. Soon she saw her sister jogging towards the car, her hair trailing behind her, "Hey," she panted all out of breath. "You ready?"

"Are you serious? Do you know how late it is?"

Gretchen looked at her watch, "Oh shit!"

"Mom is gonna freak."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I did, you didn't pick up. Guess you were busy," Clinton said as she got into the car. Gretchen opened up the door to the driver's side as she checked her cell phone, "Damn, its about fifteen missed calls on here, did she call you?"

Clinton looked at her phone; there were a few missed calls from her mother. Luckily she kept it on vibrate so the ringing didn't blow her cover in the locker room. She put the ringer on.

"Shit, we've gotta go, we're supposed to have, 'Family Dinner Night' or what have you." Gretchen said as she pulled out of the lot. Clinton couldn't help noticing at how flustered the girl looked. She stared at her sister for a long time, not able to see her in the same light she once did. She shook her head as she heard her phone beep.

"Voicemail," Clinton said, calling her voicemail box to see who had left a message. "Shit, it's mom. She and August won't be in until tomorrow morning."

"House to ourselves? Score!" Gretchen smiled.

"What's the big deal about that?"

"I can invite some peeps over to use the pool."

Clinton frowned, "Why?"

"I really want to make the cheerleading squad. I'm gonna invite Tracey and Lisa over."

"Who?"

"Remember those girls you insulted when we first got here? Tracey is the blonde and Lisa has the brown hair."

"Oh, how could I forget?" Especially when she had seen both of them sucking on her sister's pussy. Thinking about it almost made her sick. Is this what Gretchen was willing to do to be popular? It didn't make sense. She was a senior in high school. Why did it all matter anyway?

"And listen, if they come, do not start. Just stay out of our way."

"Do whatever you want, I don't care." Clinton said shrugging her shoulders as the finally pulled into their driveway.

Within a few hours the whole backyard was buzzing with jock and cheerleader juniors and seniors in swimwear. When Clinton went down to the kitchen to get something to drink, she noticed her sister parading around in a turquoise bikini and white flip-flops. Her hair was piled on top of her head and she was wearing dangly silver earrings. She watched quietly from the patio as her sister socialized and made sure she was the best hostess. Clinton kept looking away from her sister's exposed body. Every time she saw her lean and toned torso, or her flaring hips twitch with her walk, she thought of what had happened in the locker room, and tried to figure out why Gretchen would do such a thing.

Clinton didn't know much about sex. She knew Gretchen wasn't a virgin because she had told her that she did it with her first serious boyfriend in New York last year. Because of this Clinton would tease her and call her "easy" or "slut" even if she didn't mean it. She was always just sort of frightened and jealous of the fact that her sister had sex. She didn't understand it. She always joked around with her sister that she was easy, but she didn't really expect her to be that way. What she saw earlier combined with what was about to happen put the icing on the cake.

Clinton sat in the window seat of her bedroom window where she could view the pool party well. She didn't want to be sitting around, gaping at the "beautiful people" having fun, but she didn't feel like doing anything else. She had homework to do, and reading assignments, but ever since she saw what her sister did earlier, she couldn't concentrate. What disturbed her most were her own feelings.why didn't she just leave? Why did she feel that certain "fire" between her legs when she noticed what was happening?

Suddenly she was snapped out of her thoughts when she realized her sister was leaving the pool with some tall dark chocolate complexioned jock. She was leading him by the hand into the house. Where were they going?

She certainly wasn't going to take him upstairs? That was a no-no. It's bad enough she didn't ask permission to have this party in the first place. Even though she was ashamed of herself for even caring, Clinton went downstairs to actually spy on her older sister.

She had just gotten downstairs when she heard their voices laughing. She quickly ducked into the bathroom in the hallway, waiting for them to pass by so she could follow. But when it occurred to her that their voices were getting even closer to the bathroom, she realized that this was the next place they were heading. Feeling stuck, she jumped into the bathroom closet and closed the folding slatted doors. She crouched on the floor among detergents and toilet paper, hoping that they wouldn't catch her hiding here. It would be so embarrassing.

They entered the bathroom turning on the light, "Wow, I can't believe you cut yourself Morris." She heard Gretchen say. She could actually see the two of them through the slats in the closet door. Morris was extremely tall, very brown skinned and wore a festive pair of red swimming trunks with white Hawaiian flowers that almost made Clinton snicker.

"Its nothing. Just a wound that opened back up after practice today." His deep booming voice seemed to shake the bathroom.

Gretchen was digging around in the medicine cabinet looking for something to clean the cut above his eye and also for something to patch it up with. However, as she did this, Clinton noticed how he actually closed and locked the door.

"Yes! Alcohol." Gretchen said, pulling out some soft cotton balls with the bottle she had found. "C'mere," Gretchen reached up to apply the alcohol to the area above his eye, but he just pulled her close to him. Her wet body was pressed against his.

"Look at us," he said, "We're dripping wet all over the floor."

"Um, it's okay," Gretchen laughed nervously, as his arms encircled her tiny waist. She still continued to try to dress his wound, but he had other plans. He kissed her instead; not a soft passionate kiss, a hard nasty one. Gretchen felt herself pushing away, and laughing nervously, "Morrissss."

"What? You been checking me out all night. I see how you look at me. Plus I heard about you."

"What do you mean?"

"You're hot to death. I'm so into you," he leaned in and began to kiss on her neck.

"Uhhh, Morris," Gretchen said.

"What? What's wrong? You ain't no baby right?"

"No."

"So what's the problem? You're not stuck up are you? 'Cause I told everyone I thought you were cool. I'd hate to tell them something else, especially since you trying to join the cheer squad and all."

"I'm not stuck up," Gretchen protested, and this time she was the aggressor. She pulled his face against hers and they began passionately kissing. At first, it seemed as if Gretchen were just trying to prove a point, then it was obvious how into it she became. Their tongues intertwined as they caressed each other's bodies. Morris' hands reached into her bikini bottom, stroking her firm ass cheeks. He pulled her body close to his and began to grind against her, grabbing her ass with two hands as she moaned into his mouth.

"Oh, Morris."

"Why don't we get this party started?"

Gretchen paused for a moment.

"What baby?" He said grabbing her chin, "You ain't scared right?"

"It's just where would we do it? I can't have anyone upstairs. And my annoying little sister would rat me out."

Clinton's jaw dropped. She made it sound as if she were a twelve-year-old tattletale. If she wanted to be one, she had MORE than enough ammunition, but she wasn't. But she was actually hiding in a closet spying on her sister, so she felt more humbled when she thought about this.

"Let's do it here," he said nibbling on her ear.

"It's so small."

"I like it like that," he said picking her up with ease and sitting her on the bathroom sink. He began to kiss on her neck and collarbone, and he reached behind her and undid her bikini top, exposing her pert breasts.

"I love your titties," he said, making groaning and suckling noises as he bit and sucked each one of them. Clinton watched her sister squirm in discomfort. He was being quite rough with her nipples, but she didn't complain.

All of a sudden the strange and confusing feelings that Clinton was feeling-that tingly feeling between her legs, the shame, the anger-was replaced by sadness. How could her sister let these people use her body and tell her what to do? Was it really worth it? It would've been one thing if Gretchen seemed to want to do it in the first place, but she never did. Clinton hated this. Watching the expression of pain on her sister's face made her want to cry. She wanted to leap out of the closet and start kicking this Morris' ass. But she didn't. She just let it happen.

Suddenly, he had lifted her down from the sink and had her pressed up against the wall. Her back was facing him, and he wondered what on earth he could do to her in that position.

"Bend over." He ordered, and she did, holding on to the sink for balance.

He began to slip her bikini off until it was around her ankles. Clinton could see a grand view of her sister's perfect heart shaped ass and her bare pussy lips. He hissed and Clinton could tell he was aroused as he rubbed his hands all over her smooth ass, cupping her pussy and dipping a finger inside her core.

"Shit, you wet sweety. I think you ready for me."

Wet? What did he mean she was ready? Suddenly it dawned on her. After watching her sister in the locker room earlier, she went to bathroom and discovered that she was sticky and wet down there herself, and she didn't exactly understand why. Was this arousal? Did he mean her sister was aroused? She couldn't be! She didn't actually want to do this did she?

But she actually remembered how she didn't expect or want to see her sister have her first lesbian experience. Nonetheless the whole thing still made her "wet".

She watched as Morris pulled out his long brown smooth dick. He lined it up flush with her pussy as she bent over the sink. Soon, he was sliding himself inch by inch inside of her. Immediately Gretchen's body stiffened and her back arched.

Is he hurting her? Clinton asked herself as he began to slide his dick in and out of her pussy. Her sister moaned and gripped the sink until her knuckles turned white as this guy fucked her from behind. Clinton felt her face flushing red, and that warm tingling sensation returned. For some reason she was getting wet, she could just feel it. She had never seen sex from this angle before. Sure, there were soft-core porn movies on cable late at night, but it was mostly always missionary or with the lady on top. She was seeing doggystyle up close and personal, and because she wasn't used to thinking of sex this way-sex as if you were an actual animal-this turned her on.

Clinton slid her hand down into her gym shorts and panties and slid her fingers down to her clit. She was on her knees with her hand jammed down her shorts as she watched Morris fuck Gretchen. At this point she heard the slapping of their skin and the gushy noises of their sexual organs creating friction against moist wetness. Gretchen didn't seem to be in pain or discomfort anymore. She seemed to be enjoying his large dick deep inside of her pussy.

"Yeah, give me that pussy," he whispered, "You gonna let me fuck that pussy?"

"Uh huh," she whined, throwing her head back and whimpering, "Oh shit, yes, yes, yes!"

Clinton's middle finger flicked over her clit faster and faster as the rhythm of her breathing seemed to match theirs. She had touched herself before, but since she didn't understand what was supposed to be happening, she had stopped long before she could reach climax. But now she understood what it meant when those girls in the locker room yelled out that his sister was "cumming". She felt every part of her body tingle, from the top of her head to the tip of her toes. Her breathing became short and labored, the skin on her chest began to tingle and itch, the muscles deep inside her pussy began to contract and then suddenly.

"I'm CUMMMINGGGGG!"

Gretchen yelled this as Morris banged away deep in her pussy. At this very moment, Clinton wanted to yell out what her sister did, but she fought hard to muffle her squeals of pleasure as she gushed all over her fingers.

Finally, Morris pulled out of the girl and began to pump his big thick dick so that threads and threads of white sticky cum shot out of the tip. Both sisters seemed amazed at this, as if it were some sort of trick he had learned.

After he grunted his way to an orgasm he said, "Shit, I guess you're not stuck up after all."



"CLINTON!" she heard her mother scream again as she had just left her bedroom. "Alright, alright!" Clinton yelled back. Her mother had been serious about wanting her to eat at "Family Dinner Night". It was some family event that Nora and August Phillips invented in which the whole family-Kelly, Gretchen, Clinton, Nora and August-would sit around an actual dinner table and eat-dinner.

Of course, Clinton thought that it was a stupid idea and didn't want to take part, but Nora made her anyway. She trudged down the stairs into the kitchen with a pouty look on her face. After everything she had seen and all of the emotions she had gone through involving her sister, she was extremely moody. There was literally no one at the table she could look into the eyes, for various reasons. She felt awkward around Kelly ever since their confrontation, she felt angry and embarrassed around Gretchen, her mother was just annoying, and August kept having this desperate, "Call me dad" look that made her want to vomit.

And yet there they were all around the table. Clinton was so startled by the way everyone stared at her that she froze.

"Hey there kiddo," August smiled, "Why don't you sit down next to me?" Clinton was mortified; there was a spot between he and her mother just waiting quietly for her.

"Why aren't we 'dining' in the 'dining room'?" Clinton asked as she sat down.

"That table is too big," her mother chimed in. "This way we could all be closer."

"Well," August said, looking around the table, "I'd never picture I'd be doing this again."

Nora smiled, "Me either," No one else really said anything. Clinton just noted in her head that it seemed as if her family had NEVER done this, save for maybe holidays. Clinton thought that these two must be living out some kind of weird Brady Bunch fantasy, which would expunge them of all guilt from having raised their children in broken homes. What good would it do if all the kids were damned near grown? Kelly took off his baseball cap and rested it on his knee and Gretchen bit her bottom lip. She had wondered if she herself was the reason everyone seemed so uptight. She wondered if before she had arrived downstairs everyone was on the verge of a friendly food fight. The energy was so stifling that Clinton felt as if she might suffocate. She stared downward at her empty plate.

"Well," Nora said, "Shall we eat?"

"I'm starving. I haven't eaten in hours," Kelly said, and suddenly everyone began to pass around dishes of food.

"Mom, I can't remember the last time you actually cooked," Gretchen said cheerfully.

"This is pretty good Nora," Kelly said between bites.

"It's great Hon," August said biting into a piece of his chicken.

"Thank you, thank you," Nora said seeming pleased with herself. Suddenly she looked at Clinton who didn't seem to be eating anything. "Honey are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I was just wondering if I could take this to go."

She saw Kelly and Gretchen give each other knowing glances as they chewed their food. She could've sworn she heard him chuckle.

The whole table got quiet.

"This is not a fast food restaurant Clinton. There is no "to go". You eat here with us. One night a week. That's ALL I ask."

"You actually didn't ask me." Clinton responded.

Nora didn't answer, she changed the topic, "So Gretch, how have things been?"

"I'm on the squad now! Could you believe it?"

Clinton snickered thinking, "That was a safe bet."

"What's so funny?" Kelly asked.

"What?" Clinton asked startled.

"You're laughing. What's so funny?"

"What was so funny earlier when you were laughing at what I said?"

"Oh, just the fact that you want so much attention. Your turn."

Clinton bristled, but she didn't respond. She tried to restrain herself.

"Forget it Kel, she's just like that." Gretchen said shaking her head.

"What?" Clinton said, cocking her head at an angle. Did she call him "Kel"? Was she siding with him right in her face?

"You heard what I said."

"You're such a kiss ass."

"At least I'm not an anti-social bitch!"

"At least I'm not a slut!" Clinton yelled.

Everyone stopped eating. Gretchen's mouth hung halfway open.

"Oh man," she heard Kelly say under his breath.

Nora finally spoke, "Clinton! What have I told you girls about calling each other nasty names! You don't even know what they mean. You shouldn't call someone a name they don't deserve to have."

"I didn't."

"That's it, go to your room!" Nora shouted.

Clinton threw down her napkin and stomped upstairs to her room. "That was all I wanted anyway," she said to herself.

After she had left the table was quiet again.

"This is good chicken." Kelly said.

"Son," August warned as Kelly gave a "What did I do?" face.



Twenty minutes later as Clinton lay on her bed listening to her I-pod, her door flew open. Gretchen came in and slammed the door. Clinton immediately sat up, "What's your problem?"

"What's yours?"

"You! Get the hell out of my room!" Clinton stood up.

"Why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"You called me a slut in front of everyone! In front of August and Kelly, we barely know them like that and you tried to embarrass me." Gretchen huffed. "There are times you play around and times you don't."

"First of all," Clinton said pulling her earbuds out of her ear, "I wasn't playing. I was dead serious. Second of all, you started! Calling me an anti-social bitch? How was I supposed to take that? I mean, you say we don't know them all that well but you and Kelly had NO problem making fun of me."

Gretchen shook her head, "Well at least I didn't call you a dyke like I usually do."

Clinton laughed, "You can't! Not anymore!"

Gretchen's eyebrows furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," Clinton said, "Just get out." She said walking over to her favorite place, her window seat.

"Not until you say what you mean."

Clinton looked over her sister, whose face was completely red. She had really gotten to her, but still she didn't want to talk about this now.

"Earlier you called me a slut and said you meant it. That you weren't 'playing'. What's that supposed to mean?"

"I saw you." Clinton said.

"What?"

"I saw you. First in the locker room at school. Second in the bathroom with Morris. I don't know how many other times you've."

"What?" Gretchen gasped. "You-you're spying on me now like some type of pervert? Don't you have anything else better to do?"

"Obviously not. But it wasn't intentional, plus you made it too easy. You know that saying, "Don't eat where you shit"? Well, you fuck where you sleep. Not a good look for you since this ain't New York and everyone knows everything about you."

"I can't believe you! And then you called it out at dinner!"

"I wasn't going to. I swear. I was trying hard NOT to say anything but you kept pushing-"

"I can't believe this. You were going to tell?"

"No way, I wasn't going to snitch. But I should've, the way you've turned against me."

"I haven't turned against you.besides you're the one trying to go stay with dad."

"Why should I stay here with you? You don't even have my back. You're a hypocrite."

"I'm a hypocrite?" Gretchen laughed, "You're the one who said you didn't care about what mom did with her life and yadda yadda yadda."

"Key word: HER LIFE! Not mine! She's screwed it all up. Don't you see? No of course not. You're too busy fucking everyone on campus and kissing Kelly's ass just to be accepted. That's so fucking ugly Gretchen."

Gretchen didn't say anything; she just stood with her fists clenched at her side.

"You have a year here, tops. After you graduate, you can do whatever you want, but you can't even keep your dignity for that small amount of time. You have to do everything you can to feel 'liked' or accepted. You whore yourself out for it."

"Take it back!" Gretchen screeched, a tear streaming down her face.

"Can you take it back? All the things you did?" Clinton shook her head.

Gretchen narrowed here eyes and bit her bottom lip.

"Nothing you can say right?"

"You know what? You're just miserable. You hate your ugly assed self and that's why you're jealous of me. That's what everyone else says. That I'm prettier and you're jealous."

"So what?" Clinton said wincing as she tried to act like this didn't bother her.

"Yeah, that's it. And you know what? I wish Kelly were really my real brother and that you were my stepsister. I like him better than you. He's cooler, he knows how to dress, and he knows all the right people."

"Does he tell you to fuck all the right people? Is he your pimp?"

"I wish you weren't born at all! You could be doing the world a favor right now by disappearing!" Gretchen screamed.

"Get the FUCK out Gretchen!"

"Fine!" Gretchen yelled as she turned on her heels to leave, "Never speak to me again! EVER!"

And with that she slammed the door.

The next morning, Clinton was surprised to find Gretchen in her car, still parked in the driveway. She pulled her book bag up over her shoulders and tried to ignore her as she walked down the block.

"Clint!" Gretchen called. Clinton stopped in her tracks but didn't turn around. Before she knew it Gretchen had her car curbside, parallel to her sister. "What are you doing?"

"Going to school."

"Just get in." Gretchen said.

"I thought we weren't ever going to talk again?"

"We're not. I'm just giving you a ride. I can't stop that. If I do then Mom will get suspicious."

"I don't think she cares. If she didn't come into my room as you were screaming at me last night, I don't think she'll care if you don't give me rides anymore."

"Well whatever, just get in."

"No," Clinton said walking. Gretchen began slowly following her with her car.

"Are you crazy? It's like five miles away."

"I'll manage."

"Clinton you're so difficult."

"Look!" Clinton stopped and screamed, "I'm not getting in your car! You said not to talk to you ever again, and I think we can swing that, just leave me alone!"

Gretchen honked the horn, "Come on!"

"I'm not gonna tell on you okay? So leave me alone."

Gretchen breathed a sigh of relief, but still she said, "How are you going to get to school?"

"Don't worry about me."

"Fine. I won't. And if Mom or August ask me why I don't give you rides, you better not blame it on me."

Clinton sucked her teeth, "Grow up, please."

Gretchen sped away.



Sometime after the explosive "Family Dinner Night", Nora approached Clinton and had a talk with her. The talk was somewhat one-sided, and not only because Clinton wasn't very open or receptive, but because Nora was simply giving another directive. She told Clinton that she had to get involved in an extra-curricular activity (like her sister Gretchen), and suggested sports since Clinton has always been athletic. Nora's reason for telling Clinton to get into an extra-curricular activity is so that she'd become more integrated in the Briarwood community-making friends, becoming busy-so that her mind would be taken off of living back in New York. And plus, if she were happier with something she liked, she might just be happy enough to get along with her sister and Kelly and to get to know August. Nora didn't realize that she did less listening than talking and fantasizing about the new perfect life her daughters were supposed to have as a now "normal" Beverly Hills family. Nora herself was having a ball, and she felt guilty at first that her girls resented her for the big move. She felt like she almost could've caved in to them (letting them stay with their father), but Gretchen's eventual integration gave her the hope that she needed and the justification that she wanted. She knew in her heart she was doing the right thing right? She was around more for her daughters, especially the younger one, and she was standing firm instead of letting them running all around on their own in New York.

After constantly being pressured for days after this "talk", Clinton decided to just do what her mother wanted her to. She noticed that there were tryouts for the girls' basketball team, so she was on her way to the gymnasium to sign up. But first she wanted to change into gym clothes in a girls' bathroom.

She was walking down a corridor that afternoon after school when she heard noises. They were hissing noises that seemed to be directed at her.

She turned around to see three Briarwood boys all making hissing and kissing noises at her as they followed her down the hall. When she turned around they began to double over with laughter. She rolled her eyes and kept on walking.

"Yo, yo yo, Shaniquaaaaa!"

Her face reddened as she turned on her heels.

"Who do you think you're talking to?"

"Take it easy homegirl," Said another boy whose tie hung loosely around his shirt collar. "It's freshman bra day baby. You know what time it is."

"I'm not a freshman you prick."

A chubby kid with longish hair gave a maniacal stupid laugh, "You're shitting me.you're barely out of diapers little girl."

"Don't try to get out of it," said another boy.

"Yeah Shaniqua, just hand it over," the kid with the loose tie pulled a small pink lacy bra out of his pocket.

"I'll fucking scream," She said.

"No one's gonna hear you. The school is empty. You should've ran home a long time ago."

She noticed that the boys kept advancing, "menacing" if you will. She looked around trying to figure out if there was someplace that she could run. Three yards away was a set of double doors that led to a stairway, but they were right ahead of the boys. They had her backed into a corner. What could she do? She had to move before they got too close.

"It's now or never," she said to herself, and immediately she bolted, running around them. They chased her, one of them grabbing at her school uniform cardigan. She yelped as one of them connected, grabbing her sleeve. She heard a loud rip as she grunted, pushing herself away from the hand that grabbed at her. She shoved another one of the boys as she broke away and tore off into the stairwell. She heard their steps advancing behind her, "Get that bitch!" one of them yelled.

She huffed and puffed as she ran out of the entrance onto the ground floor, looking behind her as the three boys still stuck with her, one of them closer than the others.

"Shit," she cursed under her breath, "They're gaining on me."

She gave one last look behind her before she spun around the corner when,

"Ooompf!"

Clinton fell back down on the floor, the wind knocked out of her. She lay on the floor with her eyes closed. It felt as if she'd hit a brick wall. What had she bumped into?



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