Fifteen years old and far from stupid Piper Chapman had sensed her parents' upcoming divorce for a long time. What she hadn't predicted however, were the repercussions. She didn't quite understand the incentive to move away, she had figured that her father wouldn't be staying with them anymore, but her mother's decision to uproot their family and move state completely was one that had taken everyone by surprise. The Chapmans were one of those families that just stuck around, the kind of well-off white people of which the foundations were built for an entire community of other well-off white people. It had just kind of been assumed that they'd be staying there for good. Piper was actually somewhat surprised that her mother had actually got the balls to leave her father in the first place, as a child she'd always been given the impression that it would be improper. Or at least that's what her mother had always seemed to think, especially considering her father's infidelity had been no secret as long as she could remember.

A seven year old Piper stared wide-eyed into the park across the street, her friends' pleads for her to follow them went unnoticed - she hadn't realised that she'd fallen behind. She felt a strange mix of emotions heavy in her stomach, like a ball of lead rooting her to the spot, as she witnessed her father in a passionate embrace with a woman who was most definitely not her mother. She took half a step towards them, wanting to cry out and ask what was going on. A seven year old Piper didn't understand. However, there was a gnawing feeling of doubt in her brain, something that told her approaching the couple would not be a good idea. Her friends had lost patience with her by this point and had returned to drag her off into their next game, oblivious to the fact that she was upset. She shook them off, giving some excuse about having a stomach ache, and ran home to her mother.

Lingering just outside the kitchen Piper felt suddenly anxious to cross the threshold, she could her the bustle of cooking noises as her mother made dinner and wiped her eyes with her sleeve as she tried to think about what to say. Even as a child Piper hated confrontation.

That night she lay awake and thought long and hard about the conversation she and her mother had had when she approached her in the kitchen. She cried as she remembered the calm but cold way her mother had spoken at first, and she cried even more as she remembered the way she'd yelled. She didn't understand what had happened, why her mother had so forcibly explained to her that people shouldn't talk about things, that it was impolite.

"Piper!" her mother said, almost yelling now, the cold tone she'd been using only moments ago disappearing and her voice coming out sounding strained and anxious. Piper stood trying not to cry as she watched the way her mother lost the calm, polite exterior that she was so accustomed to. Carol Chapman was almost shaking with rage, her hair falling out of place as she shook her head at her daughter's words.

"I don't want to ever hear you making those sorts of accusations again!" She continued, the young Piper had tears in her eyes now, staring up at this unfamiliar side to her mother. "It's dangerous, it's impolite..." Her voice softened now, she took a minute to compose herself, tucking her hair back behind her ear and clearing her throat. She bent down, now at eye-level with her daughter.

"You don't know what you're talking about sweetie" Piper remembers the strain in her voice. "Now, go to your room. And don't go talking about things you don't understand."

Piper remembers pausing outside of the kitchen and hearing her mother begin to cry.

She felt much older than seven lying in bed that night.

There were several more incidents with her father like this over the years but Piper didn't dare approach her mother about them again. She didn't tell anyone, not even her brother, Cal. There were times where she thought about bringing it up to her father, she got the feeling he knew she knew, but she never said anything. She had learned her lesson. The Chapmans didn't talk about that sort of thing. They weren't the type to confront each other, it wasn't 'proper'.

Piper had always done well in school, not amazing, but well enough to get by without any trouble. Same with her social life, in a society where looks were a large factor in popularity and status she was among those lucky enough to do alright, not quite the best looking girl around but but still very pretty in a conventional sort of way, with her blonde hair that was well past her shoulders in length and her pretty blue eyes. At fifteen years old and living in Connecticut she was just your average teen, she never got into any trouble and was a member one of one those large groups of girls who all seemed to blend into one. Her and her friends frequented the local mall and had sleepovers and did girly things which seemed to please her mother to no end. Piper could've been a member of the average American family, with their big house in the suburbs and attitude that just screamed 'uptight!' the Chapmans could have been the poster family for the American Dream, at least before the divorce. It was bland. Boring. Piper couldn't help but feel like she was settling.

Despite how hard she tried not to, Alex Vause couldn't help but overhear the excited murmurings of the group of girls behind her, they were crowded around the latest addition to the class like she was a shiny now toy. Alex frowned to herself, trying in vain to pay attention to her book. At least it wouldn't last, she thought. Soon they'll realise that this new kid is just as uninteresting and samey as the rest of them and the noise'll die down again. She pushed her glasses up her nose and continued to study the same sentence she'd been trying to concentrate on for the past five minutes. Her glasses were slightly too big for her head, her mother said they'd last longer that way.

At fifteen, Alex was a good few inches taller than the rest of her class. She was also already very good at reading people, and she'd never really been good at making friends.

At fifteen, Alex was stubborn, she stuck by her theory that the reason she had never been good at making friends was that the people she had to choose from were all judgemental assholes.

At fifteen, she had a point.

A very young Alex practically stormed into her mom's car, slamming the door and sitting in silence as she went over what had just happened, practically radiating anger.

"Those are bobos. Real Adidas have three stripes not four, your shoes are bobos." Jessica Wedge looked down at Alex's shoes, the amusement showing on her face, before scrutinising the rest of Alex's outfit.

Diane Vause, Alex's mother, was going on about something as Alex sat in silence in the car, not paying attention to her mother's ranting. She looked down at her shoes, and hastily started to take them off before throwing them out of the window in a fit of rage.

"What the fuck was that?!" Diane yelled, looking at her daughter in disbelief.

"I'm not wearing those anymore, they're bobos." Alex retorted, too young and much too angry to realise the money she was wasting by throwing out the shoes.

"Go get em back."

"Jessica Wedge says they're lame."

"Fuck Jessica Wedge!"

Alex looked over at her mother, she could feel the anger burning a hole through her cheeks and clenched her fists. Alex was an angry child. Angry at her mother for not understanding, angry at her father for not being around, angry at Jessica Wedge and her other classmates for being such stupid bitches, and angry at herself for not being different. As a child she couldn't help but feel like the world was ganging up on her, and she was angry because it all seemed so unfair.

She grew up fast, and by thirteen Alex was still angry, but in a much more subdued way. She no longer blames her mother for anything - she understands now how much she does for her, and she's become tough. Sarcastic and cold, at thirteen Alex is kind of an asshole.

Finally she just gives up and shuts her book, letting out an audible sigh of irritation that she just knows gets her a few glares from the group behind. They won't focus on her for more than a second though, not today.

Despite her feeling like she needed the change, Piper couldn't help but be anxious about starting at this new school in this new place, miles and miles away from where she was used to. Her friends back in Connecticut had done the whole heartfelt goodbye thing, she had all their numbers and had promised to call, but she knew that the friendships wouldn't last. Her anxieties had lessened slightly when she noticed the large group of girls who she couldn't help but think looked familiar, she supposed that each school had that one group that was practically the same the world over. Average. They had accepted her with open arms, excited about the fresh meat, and she quickly fell back into step with a lifestyle that she'd become accustomed to. Nothing really changed, she thought, no matter where she was there was always the same rut for her to fit into. She found that she was slightly disappointed by this, she'd had visions of reinventing herself in the move here, becoming this cool mysterious new version of herself, but she was just the same old Piper, the slightly nerdy but ultimately average thirteen year old.

"Ugh, loser." One of the girls muttered, in reference to the loud sigh that had just come from the dark-haired girl in front. They were in English class and the girls were taking advantage of the short amount of time before the teacher arrived to interrogate the new girl, AKA, Piper. She knew they were being loud but she still felt somewhat offended by the girl's noise of complaint, clearly the other girls did too because they proceeded to go on a long rant about how rude she was. Piper just sat in silence, only half paying attention to the lecture she was getting about the girl in front, who she now knew was called Alex. She felt slightly jealous of this girl for something that she couldn't quite put her finger on, it was perhaps her originality, the way that she practically smelled of cool, which was strange because she was clearly nothing like the 'cool' kids. At this point the girl, Alex, turned round; she caught Piper's eye and the look she gave her was practically sarcastic, and definitely not a pleasant one. Piper could feel herself going red, angry at the fact that one simple look had made her feel like this girl thought she was inferior. It was something she couldn't stand, in this moment - out of the petty immaturity that comes with being a thirteen year old in a school full of cliques - she decided with utmost certainty that she really hated this girl, it was a hate fuelled by jealousy and embarrassment but there was just something about her that rubbed Piper the wrong way.

As a child Piper had developed a temper, probably out of frustration at the Chapman household policy of 'Nobody has any strong feelings towards anything ever and everything is always fine all the time.' It was a side of her that nobody expected to exist, and one that she spent a lot of energy pretending she didn't have.

Alex smirked as she looked away from the girl, both surprised and satisfied with the reaction she'd gotten. She hadn't expected the look of anger, or the blush for that matter. A preppy blonde girl with a temper. She went back to trying not to listen to what the group was talking about, trying even harder now that the conversation had turned back to her. She tried to convince herself that she didn't care what they thought of her, that the insults meant nothing, it was a practice she'd grown accustomed to since the first time she met Jessica and her mob of cronies all those years ago. But she was still young, and not quite as tough as she thought she was, and in that moment she desperately wanted to go home. Still, she couldn't hear the new girl's voice making any contributions to the ridicule as of yet, 'I obviously can't have made that much of an impression' she thought to herself, although secretly relieved that she couldn't actually hear what the blonde thought about her.

'I don't need them.'

'I don't need any of them.'

She thought over the words that had become her mantra.