Wednesday. It was the night before Wednesday.

Tomorrow was the day. The day I would meet whoever wanted me to see them by the fountain after school.

I was nervous, excited, and confused at the same time, so much so that I couldn't even sleep.

Who wanted to meet me? Why did they want to meet me?

I was lying in bed, letting my thoughts come and go, when I heard something hit my bedside window.

I sat up, pulling the covers off of my legs, opening the window and peeping my head outside.

Standing in my backyard was Whitney.

Whitney Richmond. My bully.

She had a handful of small pebbles in her hand, and I realized she had been throwing them at my window to get my attention.

"Hey Sue. Your pajamas are.. hmm.. interesting.." Whitney eyeballed my soft blue top that smelled like lavender with her judgmental eyes, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

She was wearing white shorts covered with pink sequins, and a matching white tank top with the word 'Fabulous' written in magenta spangles.

"Come on, let me in. I'm don't bite." She placed a hand on her hip, rolling her eyes.

I don't know what I was thinking, but I nodded, tiptoeing down the creaky wooden stairs and opening the door.

"We need to talk." She walked right in, and her aura of strong, expensive perfume filled the air.

She wears perfume to sleep? I thought, almost saying something, but I had been told by many others not to mess with Whitney or question her actions.

I sighed, knowing I didn't really have a choice. I led her upstairs to the hallway, signaling at her to be quiet.

When I opened the door to my room, we both sat down on two small chairs set up by the wall.

"Perfect, nobody will hear us in here," Whitney smiled sweetly, but taken into context, it looked almost devilish.

I didn't know how or why she suddenly treated me like a friend, but she did, and she was not a good enemy to have, knowing how rich and powerful her family was.

She sat at the edge of her seat and leaned in towards my ear. I could feel the chills running through my spine, but I shook it off and listened.

"I can tell you who gave you the note." She whispered, her voice smooth and sly, like a serpent.

"Y- you can?"

How does she know about the note? Why does she care? What is going on? A million questions raced through my mind, but I didn't say one aloud.

"Yes. And I think you'll want to know who gave it to you before you meet them.."

"Wh- what do you m- mean?"

"...but it comes with a price," she continued, ignoring my question.

"A- a price? Like what?"

"I need you to do something for me."

Whitney glanced around the room, grinning again.

"I need you to help me get a date.. with Chris Hawkins."