Harriet Vonhelm had done it, at least that was the story that went around the high school that morning. She had done it with Michael Summers. The very same Michael Summers that Lucy Monty, Harriet's BFFF*, had been day dreaming about for all year long. It had happened last week, Helloween night. Michael was dressed as a knight, while Harriet was dressed as Tubman, her namesake, for the third year in the row. They had done it all night long in his basement when his parents were out. It made for a juicy story, much more interesting than maths or political history. It was a very juicy story, but it had one problem. It was false, completly false, and Harriet knew it, but Lucy did not.

Michael was gone for the week, family vacation, so he was not around to correct anything. His family also had rules about electronics during vacation, so he probably did not even hear about it.

Harriet only found out about the rumor when Lucy snapped at her in the morning before the math test. Lucy told Harriet that she should get lost, fail the math test, and crash on her drive home, there was also a few swears and curses thown in.

Now they were in history, after lunch.

The classroom ceiling was old with odd looking stains in certain spots. The class room used to be a chemistry lab, so there was probably a good chance that some of the strange colours were bits of students who had mixed the wrong types of chemicals. Harriet wished that it was her brains on the ceiling. It was an odd wish, but having brains on the ceiling would be better then hearing the whispers of the other students gossiping about the helloween story. How was she ever going to convince Lucy, who she had grown up with, they had been next door neighbors for nearly ten years, that the story was false. It was true that he was pretty, and he could play the both the violin and piano. He could also speak french, sort of, he was still in his first year of it. However, she was close to someone else, someone that she had known for nearly ten years, someone who did not share the same feelings for her. It was horrible. The ceiling would look much nicer if it was her brains on it.

The class ended, topic was something do with World War II. The homework assignment was to write something about what caused it. Now she had time to speak with Lucy.

"Hey Lucy," she said as she raced Lucy down. Lucy was trying to be the first one out of the room. "Lucy, stop running away from me!"

"Get lost, I hate you. I never want to talk with you again" Lucy said, almost sobbed, as Harriet grabbed her pink sweater's sleeve.

"Lucy just stop, it is false, it is a lie. I never did anything with him."

Lucy stopped trying to tug away. "What is the truth then? Why did Emily and Jane see you drive him to his house? Why?

So that was who was spreading the story around. Harriet would have to talk with Emily and Jane some time in the next few hours. "Because." Harriet said, pausing to talk a breath as they slowly walked to the nect class. "Because he crashed his bicycle into my car. My car totaled his bike and so I gave him a ride home. I went in to his garage, I bet Emily and Jane never mentioned that, because I helped him carry the bike's ruins into the house. Then I left." She finished by taking a really big breath.

"Hmm," went Lucy. "I guess we need to talk with Jane and Emily then. Don't we"

"Yes, we certainly do."

*Best F**king Friend Forever

There comes a time in your life when you realize your life doesn't just belong to you anymore. Even your happily-ever-after best friend, the one which you made once-upon-a-time when you met your prince, betrays you to the paparazzi. Like mosquitoes, they suck on anything and anyone just for the excuse to gossip! Their words buzz in your ears until they finally settle on the tongue, where they are cherished and dwelt upon as though anything but one's just-dessert.

Being a perfectionist, my best friend told me it was the "worst day of her life" yesterday. She had invited over fifty guests for her birthday but the cake was a size medium instead of a size large. Although it "wasn't enough" and she got her refund, she wound up asking me to take the leftover cake home as she couldn't "stand to take another bite of it!" By the end, I couldn't help but think to myself:

Well if this doesn't take the cake! It's true, you can't eat your cake and have it too.

However, in spite of everything, the photographer was all over me the entire time. It was as if he wasn't really a real photographer, but rather one of those paparazzi who bust in for the free cake and the dumb drama. Just a week ago, another one of my shots made the catalog while my best friend's didn't...Perhaps this is why she always stands by my side, to benefit from my poise? I'll never forget the time my social media pictures were leaked by a hacker, when really it was her all along! Still, things turned out fine...while everyone recognized my smile from that catalog shoot, there remained so much speculation as to who that girl next to me could be! At this point, even I have to ask myself:

Do I even know who my best friend is anymore?