And there's no remedy for the memory of faces, like a melody, it won't leave my head ~

Ok, that's a horrible, sad comment on this set.
 
So here's the deal:
 
I'm soso sorry for inactivity! I literally have not had one second to myself for the last week. I just finished being a camp counselor and then literally was occupied with packing for the huge trip i leave on at the end of this week. I didn't think preparation would be this big a deal, but geez! It really, really is! So, that said, I will try to update each of my character this week before i leave, but when i do i wont be back til the first (please don't kill me, mods...) I hope i'll be able to retain my characters, but I totally get it if you want to kick my busy butt out. Completely understood.
 
Also this is a birthday set for one of my friends I had in my drafts but she deleted her account (?) I didn't want it to languish in my drafts though so...here it is. Sorry. I know its weird.

I'm sorry, I have no inspiration for this story, but I've got a good one for the monday event so stay tuned. So sorry, it was a crazy weekend and today was pre-school camp hell. I can't even think straight...Check back for a new set tomorrow!

Shiiiiit set. Seriously. Like Ew.
 
-
 
I run a brush through my wavy hair before grabbing a fistful of pins. I deftly loop my hair in knot on top of my head, then let it fall instead pulling it to a low ponytail at the nape of my neck. An alarm beeps, sounding with a loud chirp. Time for my skype therapy session.
 
I whip around looking through the room, which has clothing and other debris strewn around it as if a hurricane hit. I'm staying in the family Hamptons house's guesthouse for the weekend, and it always gets a bit messy when I do. I can't seem to locate my laptop, which is a problem since I'm supposed to be getting a call from Weber any second.
 
Pretty lame, a skype therapy session. Trust me, I know. But I surprisingly kind of enjoy talking to him. Wierdly enough, a man I'm supposed to hate is more interesting to me than the girls who are supposed to be my friends. I've already had 3 more sessions with him, and he said he refused to let me sink back into what I was. This is what I find so remarkable about our discussions. He keeps saying that; that I'm making so much progress, when I actually feel the same.
 
I find my powerbook sitting on top a clothing covered chest of drawers and quickly open it, just in time to see the incoming video call request. I accept.
 
"Weber." I acknowledge, giving a small, half smile. That's about as perky as I get.
 
"Hazel. How are you today?" Weber smiles from his desk at his office, his mussed brown hair and green eyes shining.
 
"Happy, happy, happy. As always." I smirk.
 
"I see. Except, you surprisingly actually look happy."
 
"Occasionally, the sun shines in a certain way, my hair flips correctly, the sky looks peaceful, I'm far away from either of my as-shole parents, and the world seems less depressing. Occasionally."
 
"Witty." Weber nods. "You look quite dressed up. Are you headed out to socialize?"
 
"Actually, yes. White party at Tinsley Mortimer's. An excuse to leave the city and daddy dearest's controlling hands."
 
"I'm sure the prospect overjoyed you." The sound of papers shuffling seems to happen off the screen. "Have you thought of what we spoke about last week?"
 
"No. And we won't be speaking about it again." He's referring to my dad. And my mom. And my general unhappiness. He brings it up every week. And every week I shoot it down. I prefer to stick to our witty verbal matches.
 
"Hazel...You're making so much progress. Help me make help you. Let's talk."
 
"No dice, Weber." I say coolly, moving out of his frame for a moment to grab my studded aquamarine Litas from the pile of shoes in the corner and then come back and plop onto the bed to put them on. "You know the only reason I continue to speak to you is to be entertained. So entertain me. Next topic."
 
"Alright," he sighs, "Maybe next week. So, did you read the book?"
 
We chat aimlessly then, yes, I did read the book he recommended, no, I didn't think it was as good as he said. Yadda yadda, etc, etc. After about 10 more minutes, I sign off and head to the Vitamin Water party at Tinsley's. We're old friends, a client of my dad's, so I'm definitely on the list. I wander, maybe even mingle. maybe even crack a smile. I can't deny that I'm feeling kind of warm and fuzzy inside.
 
Sigh. I suppose I don't have to guess why.

{Tuesday} - @istylista @high-fashionista @thatporcelaindoll @inglenooks @young-and-restless @ohofkors @oh-oracular-spectacular
 
I do the last buckle on my Prada wedges just as the familiar double knock sounds on my door. I grab my bag from the the open cardboard box beside me on the bed and open it to see Juliette standing there. "Ready to go, G?" She asks.
 
I close my door and lock it. "Absolutely."
 
This whole big, mysterious assembly thing seems like a crock of bull to me. Highland doesn't actually need /every/ one us, he could just make a loud speaker announcement, but whatever, he's obviously on a power trip. Juliette and I walk, catching up. She really came to be like an older sister to me last year and we're pretty close now. Besides Renee and Anise, she's my closest friend here, I suppose. Good for filling the gap...of what was.
 
I lose her along the way from my dorm to the assembly hall, she was off to go chat up some blonde she doesn't really like, but seems to for appearances. She's odd like that. Interesting, though. And that's how I like my friends.
 
I pass by Luna, who nods a hello from her spot on the wall smoking a cig and bobbing her head to her white headphones. I end up falling into step with Eleanor and Portia, who I chat with, but get the impression I'm walking on egg shells with Eleanor because she skirts around any topic marginally uncomfortable like any good socialite. And Portia, who I don't think likes me much, answers me in short sentences as she watches the boys around us mentally undress her. Whatever.
 
I'm thinking about the notable lack of Cason in my day today and not spotting him in the crowd at the assembly hall I slip into an available seat near the back in the section where most of the Society kids regularly sit. I end up next to Bev, and ask her what she thinks this whole meeting is about.
 
"Who knows?" She answers, shifting her weight from one side to another. "He never does things like this. I hope it doesn't have anything to do with..."
 
At this point, hands go over my eyes as I feel weight added to the bench beside me.
 
"...well, you know." Bev finishes, a smile creeping into her voice. "I'll catch you later, Grace." I feel her get up and walk off even though my eyes are still covered. I'm not worried though, I know these hands.
 
"Guess who?"A voice sizzles on my cheek.
 
I melt into his side as Cason removes his hands and slides one behind me on the bench around my waist. "Hey. Where were you this morning? I thought we were having breakfast."
 
"I know, I'm sorry. I left you a message though. I was talking to the detectives actually. My first interview with them." He shook his head.
 
"Detectives?" I asked, momentarily confused by Cason's adorable face. "Detectives for--?"
 
"The Elsie Nichols Disappearance case," Headmaster Highland suddenly boomed from behind the podium. "This is the reason I've called you all here."
 
-
 
"My god," I said as I walked out of the auditorium, hand and hand with Case. "That certainly was neither exciting nor cheery. Way to boost school spirit before the first day." I turned to Case, whose arm was draped across my shoulders. "Do you think they'll call me next?I mean, the detectives wanted to talk to you..."
 
"Maybe not next, but soon." He sighed. "They insinuated something along the lines that maybe the two of us co-conspired."
 
"What?" I pull away from him, wondering if he said anything that made me sound guilty o the heinou crime. "That's ridiculous!"
 
"I know that, obviously." Cason says frowning. "but you have to admit, we didn't exactly have the best timing."
 
"I know." I sigh. Cason and I happened at a very bad time. "But it's not as if anything happened between us before you and Elsie broke up anyway. We only got together after. And she was the one who was practically cheating on you, not the other way around, I mean I didn't even--"
 
"Grace." Cason said firmly. "You don't have to defend yourself, to me or anyone else. We both know we did nothing wrong." He plops a kiss on the top of my head, and then frowns looking over at the 4th year boys in the quad. "As much as I can't stand the guy, I have to go warn Chord. It's not you they're likely after next. It's him."
 
Case moves off towards Chord Belvidere and his pack of hangers-on, while I wonder aimlessly towards the fountain. I pause as I pass by Chanel and Emmy, loitering beside the main office's massive doors, no doubt waiting for the rest of their posse. "Well, if it isn't the best friend's boyfriend's new girl friend." Emmy says, narrowing her eyes. We really don't have problems with each other, those girls and I. I've even been quite friendly with them in the pas. We're only occasionally kind of adversarial, Chanel's friends and I. Only because they're worthy opponents to verbally sparr. And only because they know I'm the second coming, and they like to poke fun, mostly out of envy I'd bet. I'm next generation, everyone knows 2.0 is always better than the first version.
 
"You act as though you want to avenge Elsie's honor." I say, facing up to her, literally. I'm quite short, almost legally a midget, and though these wedges give me a boost, I'm still about an inch below Emmy. "As though you liked her. That's quite touching. I'm sure she's smiling happily from her little pine box."
 
"You were supposed to be her best friend. That's sick, how you can joke about that, you little freak. We knew you were cold, G, but really." Chanel says disgustedly in a condescending air, as though she's the picture of innocence.
 
I raise a cool eyebrow. "I can say that because I was her friend. I knew her." although, admittedly, we didn't end our relationship on good terms. I often regret that. Bu just as often don't. "And now I don't know here anymore, and I never will again. Because what's done? Is done. We might as well start admitting it." I turn and stalk back towards Cason, then pivot back. "Especially you two. After all, people say you were the last ones to talk to her."

During the opera, the briefing I got was this:
 
Zachary, man of few words, tells me he'll be starting me off on my first job small. One appearance, one target. Seemingly simple. Like a video game, if I get this done, I can pass on to harder tings. If not, I just keep getting one pass jobs, then I get fired.
 
And then basically if I get all the way through, I get to the good stuff: the big client Esti was talking to. Right now she's supposedly 'in Uruguay on a dancer's tour' according to a note 'from her' Lance sent.
 
Anyhow today's job: A dubious finance professor from Columbia has been siphoning money out of a billionaire's account whose financial profile he organizes. The mob wants to black mail him and get him to siphon the money to them instead. He'll be personally buying 'us' a new weapons warehouse.
 
Apparently, Esti was fantastic at these jobs.I have a lot to live up to.
 
I want to see what she did, and be like her. Esti may have been crazy and sometimes obnoxious and most likely a criminal at this point, but she did do something I've always aspired to do. She was bold, and uncontrolled. I've always been pretty buttoned up and conventional. I mean, I still want to move up at work, I still have ambitions and goals, but, every now and then, I've wished I had more fun. And now, maybe I can.
 
In the most buttoned up, conventional way possible.
 
I move forward in the line at the coffeehouse that happened to be the professor in question's favorite haunt, and lo and behold he was here. Time to get into character. Think harried, smart-but-frilly-and-marginally-thoughtless freshman econ student. I tap my foot impatiently. I twirl my curls, and purse my lips. When I get to the front, I smile at the barista and I order a frou-frou, yet no-sh.it drink. "One small cinnamon dolce latte with extra whip...and a chocolate chip scone. Thanks!" The barista nods, and I survey the full coffee house and notice the only other spots beside the one with my target are either the one next to...
 
"...The creepy, jabba-the-hut look-a-like or the sweaty grunter," I tell the professor, smiling hopefully. "Would you mind if I sat? I really need to cram before this exam."
 
"Sure!" He says, adjusting his glasses and smiling broadly, "Be my guest."
 
I smile and plunk down into the chair, whipping out the first year microeconomics textbook from NYU out of my pink carryall. I drop it on the table next to his cracked briefcase and open it to an earmarked page I'd pre-studied. A prop from Lance, who really does his homework. The professor sips his non-fat foam latte and flips through my target ( a small black notebook he apparently carries everywhere and has the key to everything hes working on, in a financial code, the key to which was already found embedded in his online email account records. He's staring at me, but trying not to stare. But I catch him. Try to engage.
 
He recoils, but says in a voice he probably thinks was charming, "Marginal theory of value, huh? I taught a seminar on that last week."
 
"Really?" I say, trying to appear interested, and leaning in. "Awesome! I'm a first year--"
 
"Finance student at NYU? That's their textbook. Don't sweat your exam. Pearson's exam on that chapter is literally common sense. I took him once, a couple decades ago." He winks.
 
Ew. But I grin and come closer, putting my hand atop his. "Thanks so much, that's reassuring. Especially from such a handsome stranger. What good luck!"
 
"No problem." He tells me, leaning back, self satisfied. "And if you're ever dissatisfied with NYU, I can tell you the Columbia Finance department is pretty nifty..." he adds, searching to get my name obviously.
 
"Estella?" A barista calls from the counter.
 
"That's me," I say, blushing, moving to get up and planning my move...
 
"I'll get it!" He volunteers, jumping up, flustered, and bumps into me perfectly. I sweep my arm along the table to steady myself and knock both our bags over.
 
"I'm so sorry!" I exclaim, "Suuuuch a klutz. I'll get it." I scoop his belongings into his briefcase, including a black notebook of his, except embellished with a spot of red ink in the corner, and scoop mine back into my bag. "Here," I say handing it up to him.
 
"Don't worry about it." He says, "I'll still get your order."
 
He walks to the front and I dig in my bag and make sure I've replaced everything, and when he returns with my coffee and scone bag, I jump up. "Thanks so much, and for the advice, but I have to go. Right now. Class!" I exclaim, and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. "Wish me luck!" I turn to leave.
 
"Wait!" he says. "Here's my card." He passes me a card with his name and office hours. "Hope to see you around, Estella..."
 
"Uh, Zachary." I say, grabbing the first name I could think of. "Estella Zachary."
 
"Well, nice meeting you." He says as I leave.
 
The satisfying click of the coffeehouse's door closing serenades me as I dial his number. Click. Connection. "And?" A gruff greeting.
 
"Done." I smile into the phone. "Expect the drop later. Phase 1 complete."
 
"We'll see," he says. Click.
 
I almost fist pump the empty air with in happiness. In fact, I'm so excited I take a cab to Central Park and join my peers at the pet adoption, and fall in love with an English bulldog puppy. On a whim, I take him home. I name him Professor. I'm living on the edge.
 
You know, it's fun playing Esti. I should do it more often.

-Grace Robins
age: 16
year: 2nd
Grace Robins is new to Societas de Corpus Humanis. Her father having been in it during his time at Pemberley, it didn't come as much of a shock. She caught onto the Pemberley ways quite quickly as well and is easily the future Chanel when her time comes. Grace is a shoe in for possibly being the future president of Corpus Humanis unless Cason or Evan somehow find a way to cast her a side. She doesn't really talk to or associate with people outside Corpus Humanis. She'll simply stop talking when one of them comes around and if they address her she responds with only one line responses. No one really knows why Grace acts like this, she has a superiority complex but not bad enough for her to have this kind of behavior. Most just say that she's actually painfully shy around the masses. Unless there are certain things about her freshman year that she doesn't want slipping out...But then again she spent majority of her time with her three best friends Renee, Anise and oh, would you look at that? Elsie - the only girl standing in her way to reach the very top of the Pemberley ladder. To achieve everything she wants and to be the president of Corpus Humanis her senior year. She couldn't have been thinking that far ahead, could she? Well, she is now dating Elsie's ex boyfriend. Hm, maybe Grace isn't just shy.
taken by: @fashionfiend
model: Montana Cox
 
Cason Chandler
age: 16
year: 2nd
Cason is on the golden path to success. He has everything going for him. He's the love of all the staff at Pemberley and the student population can't get enough of him. Cason has all the best qualities that a boy of his age can have. He's had a pretty flawlless record at Pemberley and always finds a way to smooth down the things he does for the Society. Its almost amazing that he has never been caught or that he's never been under any sort of suspicion. Cason has a pretty great life, but he's still consistently under pressure to maintain that reputation and he is dating one of the most high maintenance girls at Pembereley. There is one thing everyone has noticed about him though, he's gotten a lot quieter this year. Perhaps its because his ex-girlfriend was found dead. This time Mr. Chandler can't avoid suspicion.
relationship status: dating Grace
Model: Logan Lerman (I feel like he's got that delicious little smirk that says he's pulled off something big. This is going to be fun!)
 
-
 
Hi, Girls. I'm pretty shy, but since I know most of you already, there shouldn't be any reason to be, right? I've had a great summer, considering, and Cason and I are still very much together. So say hi!
 
xoGrace

I roll into the costuming department early in the morning to pick up my costume at 7 AM as per usual. It's my second week on the job, and I'm finding it...interesting. At the very least, its distracting. From...you know.
 
I find my costume, my wig and my makeup kit sealed into its bag on the rack marked 'Cinderella Face Characters'. I start by putting on my wig and headband, and then my makeup. Most mornings I chat with one of the other cast members getting dressed, but today I am alone. I guess no one was up for the early grind on a Friday morning. But I happen to be a morning person.
 
But don't get that mixed up to mean I'm perky.
 
However, as I apply generous blush to the apples of my cheeks, I notice I'm not alone. A guy roughly my age with on trend nerd-chic black framed glasses and a stubbly jaw has walked in and looks at me in the mirror. I whirl around and look over. "Um, hi?" I say as he continues to stare. "Can I help you?"
 
"If you're Cinderella, you can. Hi," He says stepping forward with an outstretched hand. I make no move to shake it. "Ethan Daniels."
 
I continue to grip my blush brush, and raise a cool eyebrow. "And...? Are you some sort of Cinderella stalker or something? 'Cause you might want to wait til I'm in costume. It would serve the fantasy better, no?" I turn back to the mirror and replacing the blush brush, begin on my eyelashes with a super-lengthening mascara. The guy continues to stare. Creep.
 
"He-llo?" I prompt.
 
"I'm Prince Charming." He says simply, continuing to stare.
 
Way to sound like a fetishist! "Ok, that's just flat out weird." I tell him, turning around and getting up. "I'm sorry, sir, but ...you're going to have to go. SECURIT--"
 
"No, no. You miss understand. I'm the Prince Charming to your Cinderella. Face Character." He says putting his hands up in surrender. Too late though, because our security guard, Thomas, is already into the room. I expect him to ask what's wrong, but instead he grunts, "Hey, Ethan."
 
"Tom!" This 'Ethan' exclaims doing that weird handshake/bro-hug thing guys do. "How's Eve?"
 
"Good. 6 months along." He says, smiling for the first time since I've met him.
 
"Good lord! Oh, man, congrats. Anyway, nothing to worry about here. My friend just got a bit too excited. See you soon, buddy." Ethan smiles charismatically.
 
Thomas grunts and shuffles back out the room without so much of a glance at me. Ethan turns back to me. "So, I've introduced myself. What about you?"
 
"Aislinn Wyndham. Ais." My eyes are still narrowed.
 
"I had a neighbor named Aislinn once. We called her Ash." He strides toward the rack and picks out the signature red pants and light blue topper with the gold epaulettes that my prince will wear.
 
"I prefer Ais to Ash." I say, continuing my makeup.
 
"I'll still call you Ash." He shrugs good-naturedly. "So, I suppose I'll be back after I change. Bu We should probably get to know each other better if we're going to work together all summer."
 
"Sure," I shrug lazily, and he disappears from the room to the men's dressing room.
 
After he leaves, I finish up my makeup and start getting dressed, pulling on the stockings and body liner, then the hoop skirt, then the fluffy gown. I add the big pearl earrings and black choker, and finally the shoes. The Princess Tiana girl is in there so I chat with her a little, and by the time I'm done its 8 already and Ethan is waiting for me, dressed and clean shaven. He springs up when I walk in. "Hiya, Ash." He smiles.
 
"What are you, hopped up on redbull and coke? Turn the megawatt down, alright?" I grouse. He is annoyingly happy.
 
"Sorry." He says, but his smile doesn't falter. "So, breakfast? I'm thinking the Plaza Inn."
 

I give him a weird look. "What?"
 
"Well, we have to get to know each other if we're going to be kissing all the time," He says innocently. "And its nice there. And we'll beat the character breakfast rush if we go now."
 
"We can't eat in costume!" I exclaim. "Donna will have my head." Donna is the mildly scary costume master.
 
"Leave Donna to me, we're old friends. " He says, steering me outside. He practically drags me to Main Street, and then greets the hostess at the Plaza Inn like a family member. We're seated quickly in the back, and I'm still kind of shocked that withing a span of 10 minutes I ended up at a nice restaurant with a strange guy.
 
The waitress comes, and, of course, he knows her too. "Hi, Bitsy. Two orders of Mickey waffles. Extra butter and --"
 
"Strawberry syrup. On it, Ethan." The blonde winks, then turns and walk away.
 
"What would happen if I was allergic to waffles?" I asked, offended.
 
"You can't exactly be allergic to waffles, can you?" He smiles, rolling his eyes. "But I probably should have asked if you were allergic to, say, butter, sugar, flour, or milk. Are you?"
 
"No, but--"
 
"Good, because you can't really have breakfast at Disneyland with normal waffles. So, introduce yourself." He folds his hands under his chin. "Who are you?"
 
I panic. I hate that question. It scares the living daylights out of me. "I--uh---you. I'm curious." I save myself, "How do you know everyone?"
 
"Disney brat." He says cheerfully. "My father's the head lawyer for the Disneyland legal department. Evan R. Daniels. 36 year vet, since he first got out of law school. I've practically lived here."
 
"And you're not sick of it yet? Planning to be just like daddy?" I say skeptically.
 
"Yes. Yes, I do." He says seriously. "Just graduated, Penn State, pre-law. I'll be attending Yale Law this fall."
 
"Penn?" I ask, surprised. Penn is where I'm supposed to be attending, where Rosalie is supposedly attending. I hate Penn State with every fiber of my being. "Shouldn't you be doing some law internship then?"
 
"I'd rather be at Disney, even if I'm stuck as a face character." He smiles, as Bitsy brings our waffles and he chows down.
 
"Just love this place that much, huh?"
 
"Yup. I do. What brings you here?"
 
I ponder a second, cutting into my first waffle and tasting its syrupy goodness, then answer honestly, "Escapism."
 
"Ahh," he smiles, "Good answer." He raises his fork with a bite of waffle in tribute to me, and I even crack a little smile. As annoying as this chirpy guy might be, he's kind of entertaining.
 
Interesting summer indeed.

{Takes place on Tuesday, Ian Harding as Weber}
 
I spooned up my last bits of melted chocolate froyo as the ending credits to Breakfast at Tiffany's rolled. Serena, Blair, and co sat around Blair's massive flat screen. We had already shopped til we dropped, or, well, the others did. I browse usually, but don't buy too often in the presence of others. I prefer to roam alone when it comes to shopping.
 
I glace at the grandfather clock by the wall and watch as the hand strikes 3. Well. I ought to go.
 
"So, girls," Blair says, clapping her hands together excitedly, "Who's ready for Roman Holiday?!"
 
"Me!" Isabel squeals, perpetually up Blair's butt.
 
"Awesome movie,let's do it." Jenny answers, folding her legs at the ankle.
 
"Love to stay, but..." I told the others, although I was lying. I don't really want to subject myself to more Audrey. She only reminds me of my father's girlfriend, who claims she always wants to be 'classy like Audrey Hepburn', who in turn reminds me of my father. In reality, her definition of classy looks a whole lot like my version of slutty.
 
I wonder what her version of slutty looks like.
 
"Where too, H?" Blair raised an eyebrow. "Hot date?"
 
"With my new therapist." I say lazily, gathering my bag up from the couch.
 
"Basket case," Rain coughed.
 
I glance pointedly at her. "Thanks for the yogurt, B, S. Cheers." I stalk towards the exit in time to hear Serena chirp "Bye, Hazel!" and Isabel to mutter "Good riddance."
 
I take a cab and end up at the posh UES office of Dr. Lucas Weber 10 minutes later. The brunette, pencil thin secretary looks up and regards me coolly. "Hazel right? You're 15 minutes late."
 
I roll my eyes. "Charge me, then. Please."
 
She mutters to herself. "Go right in."
 
I move through the door to my left and plop down on the loveseat across from a surprisingly young and handsome man of maybe 21. I'm momentarily taken aback. "/You're/ Dr. Weber?"
 
The man looks up, removing a pair of spare wire reading glasses. "Yes. I am. And you're Hazel Williams, I presume."
 
"Presume?" I roll my eyes. "You can't be much older than me, but you're already using classic shrink speak."
 
"Shrink speak?" He says raising an eyebrow. "You're already using psychology hate slurs and its hardly been a minute into the session." He has bright green eyes.
 
"First impressions are everything." I say, tucking my feet below me on the loveseat and narrowing my eyes. "And I'm not easily impressed."
 
"Oh, really? Are you one of those girls who hates everything on contact. It looks like you are. I bet I'm right." He grins, and a dimple appears in his left cheek.
 
"You barely know my name, why do you think you can assume things about me."
 
"You were the one who said first impressions are everything."
 
"That's my philosophy, and right now you're making a poor one." I roll my eyes, but this is a lie. I'm actually...kind of impressed. "I hate psychologists, they only want to talk in circles."
 
"So let's talk in a straight line." Weber says. "Tell me one thing, and we'll build on from there with questions."
 
I make a face, but comply...at least on my own terms. "I hate shrinks."
 
"I am a shrink." He says plainly. "Do you hate me?"
 
"To be determined. Should I hate you?"
 
"Well, I'd say no, because I'm trying to help you. If you want to be helped. Do you want to be helped?"
 
"I don't think I need to be helped." I sneer. "This wasn't my idea, obviously."
 
"Whose idea?"
 
"My father's." I say disdainfully.
 
"A person you sound as if you hate more than shrinks. True?" He asks.
 
"Very much so."
 
"Why?"
 
"Because he's everything that's wrong with entitled wealth. He's morally bankrupt, in my opinion."
 
"Morally bankrupt." Weber repeats, looking perplexed. "Morally bankrupt... What does that even mean?"
 
"It means he quite simply an ass.hole." I say tiredly. Just mentioning the man exhausts me. I have too much anger, too many feelings.
 
For the first time, it hits me. Maybe I do need therapy.
 
It's a powerful realization. But that's the last thing I'll admit to Weber. "Are we done here?" I ask, standing.
 
"Why not?" Weber says without looking at his watch. "I get paid either way...I'll see you Friday. Come late if you want. I get it. It expresses your angst. Keep it up." He flashes me a thumbs up.
 
I roll my eyes dramatically and leave, slamming his door with a thump. What a frustrating man.
 
"Goodbye, Hazel." A muted call reaches me.
 
Harumph.

Whee! I'm so excited for this rp! Plus I love the Klaire character! And...after making my original ese tryout, I'm dying to use Cintia! So this all sorta works out... I know there's another try out using Cintia though, so if I get the part, and she does too, I'll be happy to change it to Bregje Heinen.
 
-
-Klaire Donovan
age: 16
year: 3rd
Klaire Donovan is considered to be the brightest child to ever step foot on Pemberley's campus. Not only that, but she's one of the most well liked girls at school. She's one of Chanel's closest friends, which is saying a lot, and has nearly everyone laughing until their ribs hurt. She can bring a smile to almost anyone's face in a matter of moments and her track record is flawless. Now that's where things get a little hazy. Even those in Societas de Copus Humanis are completely unsure of what scandals she's been a part of - and almost every one of them has been a part of something. Everyone's big question is, how does she manage to be a part of the inner circle when there's never been a single ill rumor about her? Makes you wonder now doesn't it. Does Golden Girl have a little ding on the edges? Perhaps, but if she continues like how she has, no one will ever know.
model: Cintia Dicker
 
-
 
Top 3:
 
1. Anise Cathilion
2. Jayde Everly
3. Grace Robins
 
-
 
We each do our own thing at the lunch table. I usually read, but stay in the conversation. Victoria does last night's homework, but scribbles through it uninterestedly, chatting all the way. Jayde flips through an editorial and her hair. Emmy talks and laughs and plays with her hands. Chanel oversees coolly, joining in when it suits her, and but also watches everything around her. She never misses a thing.
 
"Hey, Klaire, what's a SAT-friendly synonym for blob-like?" Victoria asks absently, munching on a carrot stick instead of looking at her overdue biology lab, not minding that a drip of low fat ranch falls on the 3rd question.
 
"Amorphous," I says happily without looking up, turning a page in the thick, hard backed book.
 
"Someone's happy again for the 365th day this year." Jayde says, rolling her eyes. "Would it kill you to frown?"
 
"Yep." I still don't look up.
 
"Happiness is a nice feeling. I'm sure it would help you attract more male suitors, because you quite obviously have problem there," Victoria adds with a raise of the eyebrow and little grin.
 
"If she was anymore attractive to men, she'd be a bucket of 50 chicken wings and a 24 hour ESPN stream." I say looking up momentarily, and smiling as everyone laughs.
 
"So, Jayde," Emmy laughs conspiratorially, "Who did you spend last night with?"
 
Jayde looks off. She's zoning out again. I tap her wrist lightly still glued tomy book. Anna Karenina. Required reading for senior year. I've already finished all of the 3rd year stuff.
 
"Hmm?" Jayde asks, tuning in a again. "Oh," she smiles wickedly, "No one actually. You know what always say,"
 
"Hit it and quit it!" Victoria laughs.
 

"Love 'em and leave 'em." Emmy winks, giggling.
 
"Hump and dump." I add looking up for a moment to meet Jayde's eyes with a grin.
 
"Wham, bam, thank you ma'am." Chanel adds, narrowing her eyes slyly. "So, who was the lucky man?"
 
"The visiting exchange student from Sweden." She winks. "You know he'll be enrolled here by the end of the week, but," She sighs, "You know I don't do repeats."
 
We desolve into giggles, knowing exactly what Jayde means.
 
"Guys, guys. Look," Victoria says, elbowing Emmy and pointing. We look down from our elevated perch, and see her gesturing to a man in a navy blue Pepperwood police uniform emerging with Headmaster.
 
"He's here about Elsie again," Jayde says in a hushed tone.
 
"So?" Chanel says, flicking lint off her sweater. "Not like it matters. They'll never find out anything. The Pepperwood PD are notorious nimrods."
 
Everyone is quiet. I'm finally torn away from my reading as the police man disappears into a squad car, and the Headmaster lops back to his office with that wierd jumpy gait he's taken on since the Elsie story has come back into play. I feel a little stirring inside me, and allow myself for a moment to wonder if they know. If anyone knows. No one does as of now, not even Chanel and the girls. What would happen if...
 
No. Chanel is right. The police force here are a bunch of country bumpkin bird brains. I push the thoughts from my mind. No need to worry.
 
"So," I say, smiling easily back at my friends. "Is it just me or does the Headmaster looking more and more like a hopping frog to you every day?"
 
Every giggles, and the peals of laughter float high up into the sky, just like my far away fears.

I haven't heard from the mob men in a week, and so life marches on. I spent the last few days barreling through work, attending events, doing every day things. Currently, I'm copy editing a flyer for my boss next to Jeremy. It's busy work, and I know it, but it stops me from driving my self crazy wondering whether they'll contact me again. It's crossed my mind that I might have scared them off, I might've been 'too green'. Maybe they don't want to take the time to train me. Maybe Zachary didn't like me. I mean, it's not as though he said anything to give me an impression otherwise. In fact, I'm almost sure he doesn't. God, how embarrassing, I can't even--
 
"Lees?"
 
I turn to see Jer staring at me oddly. "Oh, yeah, uh what?"
 
He shakes his head slightly grinning, and turns back to his computer. "You were twitching, the way you do when you get embarrassed."
 
I run my hand through my hair and laugh lightly. It's kinda scary how well Jeremy knows me. "Yeah, well," I say, clicking the save button and attaching the file to an email. "I was thinking. Anyway, I'm done, and I'm gonna go get ready. You're still coming right?"
 
"Yeah," he says, gesturing to the dry cleaning bag hanging next to his cubicle across the way. "I didn't bring a tux to go feed the pigeons in the park, Lissi."
 
"Whatever," I giggle, clicking send, and laughing. I invited Jer to join me at Phantom tonight. I've already seen it thanks to my social climbing parents who love things like that, and I decided I might like some company.
 
I grab my dress bag, and walk into the staff bathroom. The office is empty except for us interns as usual. I pull out my high-low hemmed coral gown and slip into it nimbly. I take the necklace and cuff i hung on the hanger and put those on as well, and then I touch up my make up. As I swirl my large brush in the pot of powder, my thoughts wander back to whether I'll get the mob job. I haven't told Jeremy, and I won't be doing so anytime soon I don't think, but I'm kind of dying holding it in, and since I spend most of my time with him, I feel if I burst it will mostly likely be too him.
 
I'm still thinking when i exit the bathroom on my bare feet, quickly alighting back to my desk to slip on my stiletto booties in the comfy swivel chair. Jeremy, already fully dressed in his peguin-esque tux, turns and gapes.
 
"What?" I ask. "I know, my hair is all weird, but I'm too lazy to straighten it again."
 
"No," He seems to croak. "You look fantastic."
 
"Aww, thanks Jer!" I smile, zipping up my left bootie and standing. "Ready to go?"
 
He nods and we go down to the lobby to call a cab. We talk on the way about trivial things, but then I get a call.
 
It's Byron.
 
Jeremy has busied himself with what looks like an email on his iPhone, but I know he's still listening. "Hello?" I pick up calmly, but my heart palpitations are off the charts.
 
"It's Byron. You're in."
 
I breathe a silent sigh of relief. "Good. I'm glad."
 
"Where are you now?"
 
"I'm headed to see the Phantom of the Opera. I can't do anything tonight."
 
He laughs. I frown.
 
"That's where you're wrong, princess. I'm sending Zachary over. He'll brief you."
 
"To the show?!" I squeak.
 
Mmhm, sweetie. Just stay tight."
 
"Uh, Byron, are you sure Zachary should be my handler? Maybe Lance..."
 
"No," He says gruffly. "Zachary."
 
"Ok," I agree meekly.
 
"He'll see you soon. Wait for my call." The line goes dead.
 
I put the phone down. "Everything ok?" Jer asks.
 
"Uhh, yeah. Just...my mom." I wince inwardly. I hate lying. I guess I'll have to get over that though. This mob work is going to be 100% lying based. And I have to be convincing. Hmm. I'll need practice.
 
When we get to the theater, we get our tickets from the box office and weave in to find our seats. The first half is unremarkable, but I'm so nervous for Zachary's call. He'll be forced to talk to me now won't he? He has to brief me. I wonder if he has a sexy voice. I bet he does. Deep and gruff and sexy...
 
"Lees?"
 
"Yes, Jer?" I turn to face him, still flipping through my program to hide my blush.
 
"I, uh, just wanted to tell you you look phenomenal tonight."
 
"Thanks, Jeremy!" I say leaning over to give him a hug. He really is just the sweetest. "You're too nice to me." I kiss his cheek, and he opens his mouth to say something else, but my phone dings.
 
I pick it up lighting fast from my lap. 'He's here. Lobby.' The text reads from Byron. So much for a call.
 
"I, um, have to go to the ladies' room, Jer. Be right back."
 
"Ok!" He calls as I weave my way through the aisles, heart pounding.
 
I head to the lobby, and stand in the center looking around with my eyes, when I hear a deep, raspy, voice say. "Lisette."
 
I turn and see him there. His deep navy eyes, and wavy copper hair and tailored tuxedo.
 
And as all i can comprehend is the utter sex appeal he oozes, Zachary says the only 4 other words I ever heard him speak.
 
"We need to talk."