“Thanks for getting the last of them,” Tiffani gasped, tossing the wad of papers into the trash can.

“Are you sure we got them all?” Ophelia asked.

“I sent AJ and Louie to check the boys’ bathrooms, just in case.”

“Good. And remember, not a peep of this to Emily.”

“Why?” Tiffani asked.

“I once heard a saying. The gist of it is that it takes two people to hurt you-- your enemy to slander you, and your friend to bring you the news.”

“So, you think it’ll be less hurtful to Em if we act like we never saw this?”

“Yeah. Trust me, in situations like this, people like Em would rather not get any attention, even as comfort,” Ophelia said firmly.

“I don’t know. I mean, if it was me…”

“So, what? You’d want one of us to say, ‘Oh, by the way, Tiff, I saw that someone photocopied parts of your journal and hung up the really juicy stuff that you didn’t want anyone else to ever know, but don’t worry-- hardly anyone saw them’?”

Tiffani bit her lip hard and frowned. “Yeah, I see your point. Less humiliation, and less self-consciousness. But are you going to let Angela get away with this?”

“Of course not,” Ophelia replied indignantly. “But I don’t know what I can do that won’t get me in trouble.”

“You’re actually worried about possible getting into trouble? That’s not like you. But maybe you could get an outsider to help out.”

“Like who?”

“How about that Mae chick? Angela seems like the type she’d hate most.”

“She is. Come on, let’s go find Mae,” Ophelia replied eagerly. She grinned at Tiffani. “I’m glad we’re not trying to kill each other again.”

“It’s been put aside temporarily. I just want this to be fair, that’s all. Don’t think I’m not still ticked about you guys running for Prom Queen.”

“Point taken. Well, then, thanks for pretending not to be angry at me.”


Louie balled up the paper. “That’s the last one in here,” he muttered. He looked around, searching for a trash can, but found none. With a sigh, he stepped out of the restroom, paper ball in hand, intending to toss it into the nearest trash receptacle. Much to his surprise, Emily was walking past. “Hey,” he greeted her, hiding the paper ball as well as he could.

“Hey,” she replied, kissing his cheek. She peered at him. “What are you hiding?”

“Just something stupid I found hanging up. I was about to throw it away.”

“Is it funny?” Emily asked.

“The person who put it up probably thought it was hilarious. Personally, I thought it was very cruel to do this sort of thing,” Louie replied honestly, tossing the paper ball into the trash can before Emily could ask to see it.

“What was it about?”

“Just an unkind attempt to make someone look bad by exposing a problem the person used to deal with.”

“Oh,” Emily responded. “Hey, have you seen my journal?”


“Yeah, I can see why you’d be ticked,” Mae replied, shrugging. “Can’t see why it would be any of my concern, though.”

“Because Angela is kind of like your cousin Andi. They’re evil!” Ophelia responded. “I mean, I know you believe in not getting involved in stuff like this, but I thought maybe just this once, you’d do something.”

“Why should I?”

Ophelia smirked and leaned in close. “Consider this your apology for that little stunt you pulled at the beginning of the year.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mae lied.

“Pretty clever, getting a cheerleader to go after me instead of doing it yourself. Tell me, how did you convince Sawyer to do it? Payment? Did her homework for her?”

Mae glared at Ophelia. “You know too much, you know that?”

“Come on, Mae. Have our years of friendship meant nothing to you?”

“You haven’t been much of a friend lately.”

“Well, spend more time with me and less with Julia. But enough fighting for now. Are you in or out?”

Mae sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’m in. So, what did you have in mind?”

“We were hoping you could think of something,” Tiffani spoke up.


Ophelia sighed and sank into a seat. Ms. Gibson looked up and smiled warmly at her. “Rough day?” she asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” Ophelia replied. “You know, I was thinking maybe after this whole prom thing, I’ll get a haircut. Just chop most of my hair off and reinvent myself.”

“Over my dead body!” Ms. Gibson cried out, leaping to her feet. Ophelia stared at her, astonished at her outburst. “Sorry,” Ms. Gibson added. “A while back, a friend of mine cut her hair super-short, and then we had a fight and she tried to knife me. So, I tend to associate haircuts with bad stuff.”

“Oh, okay,” Ophelia said slowly. “Wait, what was that about knives?”

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, you said something about having someone go after you with a knife!” Ophelia exclaimed. “What kind of nutcase are you friends with who would that kind of thing?”

“You’d be surprised. So, what’s got you down?”

“I spent about fifteen minutes this morning tearing down a prime example of dirty politics. I swear, some people will stop at nothing to win these silly contests.”

“So, you want to get back at that person for being so hurtful?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Personal experience. I once accidentally hurt a friend of mine, and she retaliated by doing the same thing to me. But, listen. Unpleasant people just want to make everyone else unhappy. But don’t worry; that person will get what’s coming to her. I’ve found that people often make their own punishments, without any outside help. It’s just a matter of time.”