Claire Lyons was sprawled across the pink and black checkered lounge chair, bug-eyed but very so in fashion glasses precariously perched atop the bridge of her thin nose.

Next to her lay Massie Block, haphazardly flopped in the most un-Massie way she had ever seen, lathered in a prominent and expensive suntan brand. Alicia had followed suit to slather a helpful of the lemon scented lotion onto her shoulders.

Sadly, the smooth contours of the sky, the shimmery surface of the pool, and the quiet (if it was considered quiet over the loud blare of Massie's Blink 182) of their tanning session was the last thing on Claire's mind.

"—and Cam?" Massie pointedly looked at her, and Claire's eyes widened like a dear in headlights; she hadn't heard a word.

"Uh, err..." And with a roseate blush, "He's good."

Massie raised a manicured brow, but said nothing, continuing to babble about Derrington, Claire hid the rest of her face behind the white ends of her faux Gucci's, trying to fight the red that blossomed behind her cheeks.

Massie stopped mid-rant, abruptly turning her head from Kiersten and Dylan to swivel in Claire's direction with a pointed glare.

Again, Claire paused in her mental distress, to put on what she hoped to look like a genuine interest in the topic of Massie's choice.

A pause, then, "Your getting red, Claire. Put some sunscreen. Alicia?"

Alicia, to the far right, threw the bottle of sunscreen, which Kiersten caught with her eyes closed. The blond then handed it to Massie, who in turn splattered it onto Claire's bright red face (mind the fact it wasn't due to sunburn whatsoever) while the rest of the girls giggle-laughed at the result.

Beneath her embarrassment, Claire sighed. She hoped, at least, Derrington and Cam were enjoying their day.

Derrington had spent most of the afternoon watching Cam's eyes, the left was as if someone had caught the colors of the sky and placed them into the swirl of an iris, and the right, of sparkling emeralds.

The movie was over mere minutes ago, but if asked directly Derrington couldn't quite remember the result, or, for that matter, the plot in general.

"What?" Cam paused, placing his fry back down and eying Derrington with curiosity. "Do I have something on my face?"

While it would have been polite to answer, he leaned over to brush dark hair from the other's eyes, licking off a speck of ketchup from the edge of his lips.

"Not anymore." He smiled cheekily.

Cam, for his part, only blushed furiously, while darting his eyes around to their fellow diners. Who, luckily, had not caught sight of Derrington's more promiscuous activities.

"Not in public!" He hissed, even inwardly pleased, the last thing he needed was for someone they knew to see that.

Derrington bit back his retort. Cam genuinely liked him, he was sure of that, but the question was how long it would take the boy to accept that fact? Not only had it taken him months for the ebony-haired boy to agree to a date, but just holding hands had taken several tries and several "I'm not ready yet", and they hadn't even kissed yet. If he wasn't Cam, Derrington would have given up by now. But Cam was his everything, it didn't matter how long it took.

"Alright." He sighed, grabbing his drink in anger and opting to slurp it down then continue his ministrations. No matter how much he wanted the latter...

"You think Claire's got it down?" Cam asked softly, pushing back a curl of dark hair from his bright, bright, eyes. "She won't tell, you think?"

"She better not." Derrington growled. "It'll be funny to see Massie's face. But..." He took a quick glance at Cam's horrified face. "It wouldn't be worth it."

The boy shifted uneasily, and he noted that Cam must still be worried intensely about this 'secret' being pried into the open. "She won't." Derrington smiled encouragingly. "Claire's good at keeping secrets."

"Even from Massie?" Cam pointed out, knowing how the whole lot of them were glued to hip.

Derrington shrugged noncommittally. "I believe in her." He cowed, rather vaguely.

Cam bit his lip in worry, Derrington swooned at the gesture, and beneath Massie's towering form, Claire shriveled and cursed both of them.

Claire heaved a sigh and dropped her backpack to the floor with a heavy thud. Layne, who had been twirling her oddly distorted and multi-colored drink with an interested eye, snapped to attention at the sound.

"Where have you been?" She crowed, hands on her hips before she noted Claire's sullen gaze and slightly burned shoulders.

Claire flopped into one of the ice cream parlor's wiry, vexatious chairs. "With Massie..." She trailed off, pointedly avoiding what they were up to. She tried to move into a more suitable, comfortable sitting position but was denied.

But obliviously, Layne twittered onto the subject Claire had tried tactfully to avoid. "Doing what?"

"It was supposed to be a relaxing day by the pool." Claire noted with some disappointment how none of the pretty committee dared to go into the pool, but rather, to sit beside it. "Instead, I had to deal with Massie attacking me half the time."

"About?" Again, Layne pried.

"Oh, just stuff." Claire hedged. Noting Layne's owlish gaze, she changed the subject. "But how are you? And the Witty committee?"

"Good as ever!" Layne puffed with pride, before deflating. "Kristen, though..."

Claire furrowed her brows, taking a sip of Layne's drink, gagged, and then began, "What's wrong with Kristen?"

"Wrong?" Layne cocked her head. "Nothing. She promised she'd get Dempsey for me from Massie."

Claire choked. "W-What?"

"I like him, okay?" Layne scowled hotly. "I mean, Massie gets everything. I'm not going to stand aside and let her take Dempsey too."

The least privileged of the Pretty committee only looked at her friend skeptically, shaking her head. She'd have to talk to Kristen about this.