emotion, devotion, to causing a commotion. (formerly four one one)

four high school girls.

one freshman, one sophomore, one junior, one senior.

one prestigious clique.





sylvie montoya,she's so fresh.


kaylen morris,the sophwhore.


amy winters, classy junior.


becca reed,definite seniority.


*these girls are all my friends in the respective grade...please don't use (or abuse) their pictures.


SETTING.
Weston High School is in Tiburon, a peninsula in the San Francisco Bay. These girls are upper middle class, they can afford a new Coach bag now and then but this story won't be filled with high class. This is not your cliche clique. Present day is about right. If my imagination gets creative we might see some futuristic ideas.

chapter one.

Sylvie Montoya's lavender Jansport pounded against her back as she ran. Arriving at their meeting spot, she dropped the burden and gasped, twisting her letter lock until it spelled VERY, her maltipoo puppy's name. Seniors narrowed their eyes at her, but she was used to it. A freshman having a locker in the senior's wing, right next to her best friend? It happens when your other best friend's dad is dating the school secretary.

Becca Reed looked down at Sylvie, her Pacsun sunglasses sliding down to her nose.
"Sleep in again?"
Sylvie rolled her eyes and grabbed the thermos out of Amy Winter's gloved hand. She flipped milk chocolate colored locks out of her face and gulped steadily. Then a queasy expression came upon her face.
"It's lukewarm!"
Amy gave her a 'what can you do?' look and took the thermos back.
"It's coffee. I told you, coffee waits for no one. Not even you, hon."
Sylvie took a deep breath and then put on a small smile.
"Where's Kaylen?" Becca checked her Pantech Laser.
"With her new boyfriend," Amy checked the silver watch that glided along her dainty wrist.
"Shocker," Sylvie muttered.

The bell rang.
"Trig," Amy sighed.
"Bio," Sylvie responded.
"Yearbook, bitches!" Becca grinned. Yearbook class was also known as FMT to the females that took it; Facebook Modcloth Tumblr.

"Hey Becca," Amy called as they all walked in opposite directions. "How does Chipotle after fourth sound? I have a huge test in English."
"Fine," Becca said, "but Sylvie picks the music."
"Whatevs," Sylvie shrugged. She had long since stopped being scared of missing class. Mr. Winters was well into wooing the secretary, Miss Preston, and there was nothing that woman wouldn't do for Amy and her friends. Kaylen often joked that Miss Preston would even commit murder if they asked her to.

Sylvie hesitated outside the door to her Biology class, there was still two minutes before class started. Her Motorola Backflip vibrated, and she opened her text with recently painted emerald green nails.

kaylen: I need to talk to you, asap. break? you know where.

sylvie: sure. a&b too?

Kaylen responded almost instantly.

kaylen: NO. this is between me and you. please don't mention anything.

Sylvie was confused. The four shared everything.

sylvie: ??? alrighty.

kaylen: thanks. love you.

The bell rang and Sylvie hurriedly dropped her phone in her pocket and scurried into class.

chapter two.

"Sylvie?" She heard her name whispered from behind the tree.

Sylvie quietly tiptoed around the huge oak and sat down next to her crying friend.
"Kaylen," Sylvie hugged the person she was closest to.
"Life FUCKS!" Kaylen screamed.

"Shh..." Sylvie placed her hand on Kaylen's trembling fingers.
"What's wrong, hon?" she asked, barely above a mutter.


"You want to know what's wrong? I'm fucking pregnant! I'm having a fucking baby! Just because I was too fucking drunk to remember to tell him to use a fucking condom, I have his little bitch growing inside me! FUCK!"

Sylvie, used to Kaylen's constant cussing, was too shocked to notice that this was more than her normal.

"Who's bitch?" Sylvie asked as tears came to her eyes.

Dark eyeliner smeared as Kaylen sobbed into Sylvie's pale shoulder.
After two minutes of chaotic sobbing, Kaylen finally looked into Sylvie's eyes, her blue ones piercing Sylvie's hazel ones.

Kaylen's nose was too clogged for those two words to be fully audible, but for Sylvie, they might have been words yelled into her ear by God or whatever deity was up there.

Amy's boyfriend.
Their best friend's boyfriend.
Bryan Isola.
Bryan fucking Isola, Amy Winters's fucking boyfriend.

Sylvie and Kaylen lay together like two puppies who had lost their mother, silently mourning what could have been and fearing what might be. They had just entered a perfect life and as soon as it started, it was ripped apart.

--------------------------------------------
Sorry it was so short.
I feel this was really not the best I could have done, but I just had to get this major plot point out there.
This isn't a pregnancy story, though.
There will be several more conflicts, each bigger than the previous.
I better shut up before I give too much away.
And I apologize for the profanity.