Thank you so much to INNOCENT9146 for the awesome new cover for this book :)

Be sure to read the author's note at the end. I add author's notes to help clarify 90s slang or explain any important events in history you might not be aware of. If you skip it, then it'll only result in you being confusing. I do my best to not make things confusing.

Also, I'm not spelling the street Normandie Ave wrong in this chapter. That's how they spell the street in L.A. It's not Normandy. Just thought I should clarify that because I know it's a real place in France.

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Sophia's P.O.V.

I woke up bright and early for my philosophy class that following morning. My hair still smelled like it was coated in dirt, all thanks to the lovely Reina Annenberg.

I let out a long yawn as I went to take another round of showers to remove this gunk out of my hair. The bright side to this was that I wasn't dead (yet). Reina made it clearer than ever that she didn't want me anywhere near her brother.

Rubbing the soap into my stiff joints, I shut my eyes and let the warm water and quiet atmosphere temporarily excuse me from the nightmare I was currently living in. I had gotten up around five am, knowing no one else would be occupying the co-ed bathrooms. And on most days, no one did at this hour.

Except for today.

I had only started to lather shampoo into my hair when I heard the giggling echo through the bathroom. Focusing on the shower head, I blocked out the two intertwined voices, laughing softly to each other.

"Keep doing that, yeah right there," a guy pants.

Instantly, the laughing turned into full-on moans.

They started off quiet and almost unnoticeable.

But gradually, they got

I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from screaming out: "Someone's in here." They had to know I was in here. It wasn't like you could silently take a shower. The water that shot out of the shower head was loud, hitting against the plastic shower curtain and the green tiled floors.

They knew I was here, but they didn't care.

I finished up my shower in record speed, moving quick as I put conditioner in my hair and rinsed it out. Once all of the soap and hair products were properly washed off, I shut off the water, dried myself, and scurried out of the bathroom with my head down. My hand hovered over the doorknob when I heard the girl mutter the guy's name.

Bryce.

I shook my head and pushed the door open, acting as if I hadn't heard anything at all.

  •••

Finding new routes around campus to avoid Remy after the breakup was pointless. When we were together, most of our interactions were off campus, so I naturally ignored him on a regular basis. By the time Monday came around, Remy didn't approach me on campus.

I had high hopes that something would be different after our monumental breakup, but I was greeted with disappointment when things remained how they were. Everything was back to normal. He barely glanced at me in the classes we shared. I was only a blip on his radar.

Insignificant.

Unimportant.

Irrelevant.

Okay. I needed to stop myself before I did more damage than I could handle. I already had a shitty self-esteem before I got with Remy, there was no need to make it even worse after the break up.

In other news, there wasn't much talk of what happened at the Annenberg's lake house. No one gave me extra attention or whispered about me when I walked by them. It was just another day.

The one thing that I absolutely loved about college was that everyone didn't get absorbed in gossip for their own amusement. We were a campus of forty thousand students. There were far too many people here to keep track of. You could easily get lost within that large mass of people.

If Reina had thrown me into the lake back in high school, it would've been circulating the hallways for weeks on end. I wouldn't be able to go to another classroom without being humiliated by my peers. That was the kind of person she was and she loved it. When we went to college, she lost a lot of that power over people.

Here at Lincoln University, there wasn't a "Queen Bee" or "Popular Jock" everyone idolized and wanted to be friends with. But, for whatever reason, when you asked Reina, she would probably tell you otherwise.

It was Friday now. Nicolas, Brooklyn, and I were at "the Burning of Remy Annenberg" ceremony at the beach. "The Burning of Remy Annenberg" was what Nicolas kept referring to it as for the entire week. He was far more excited about this than I was.

Nicolas also made it clear that he wanted to get back at Reina. Getting even wasn't my intentions. The less they acknowledged my existence, the better. It was only September and my sophomore year of university was going downhill faster than you can say train wreck. For a girl that was almost nineteen I was already starting a lot of trouble with my peers, and that was something that deeply worried me.

If I cared, I quickly reminded myself.

I was so done with worrying about how I was around people or how they perceived me. For as long as I could remember, I kept worrying about bothering people or becoming a nuisance to any one, constantly putting others before myself. That kind of mentality was what got me into that crappy relationship with Remy in the first place.

"Why can't we do something to teach her a lesson?" Nicolas whimpered, cupping his hands together under his chin. "How about we-"

"No," I said without pausing to think. "I already told you in the car that we are not going to get revenge on anyone."

"Please," he groaned. "At least let me punch Remy in the face."

"Getting back at them would prove that I was affected by what they did to me."

"Which you are," Brooklyn noted. "You've been moping about it since the party ended."

"I'm not moping about it now," I corrected her, using a smooth tone. It was so hard to be calm around Brooklyn lately. I didn't know if it was just me, but she always acted like there was a fucking stick up her ass. That much attitude should not be directed toward me.

Nicolas sighed. "I want to make her pay for what she did. She's so rich that if I were you—"

"I'm not going to sue her." I knew him well enough to see where he was going. "Even if I wanted to, I couldn't. It would be my word against hers. I don't have any physical proof she did anything to me. No evidence. Nothing. Not even a statement. Everyone at that party would said I tripped."

Nicolas shook his finger. "No, that's not true. You know how Reina always hires some loser from the film club to follow her around at her parties so he can record her and whatever. Maybe he was at the party?"

That was true. Reina did like having photographic proof of her epic parties so she could later brag about it to the unfortunate souls that either weren't invited or couldn't go because of prior engagements. Reina liked to rub it in other people's faces and show them what they had missed out on.

She was so humble. I could only dream to be just like her—psych.

Reaching for the box of Remy's things I shifted it to my side so I could see what was inside. We were in an isolated portion of Newport Beach. There was a bonfire we had started up about half an hour ago.

I hesitated for a short beat, looking at all of the memories I would be turning into ashes.

"Maybe I should pawn all of this stuff," I suggested. "That's a better idea."

"What exactly are you going to pawn, Sophia?" Brooklyn quirked her brow and leaned over, beginning to rummage through the box. She fished out an old windbreaker with a disgusted face. "His dad's worth 3.5 million dollars and all you have are windbreakers, cassette tapes, and carnival stuffed animals. How romantic."

Nicolas snatched the windbreaker from her. "I'm sorry. Where's your box of stuff from Conner? Oh, right. Conner isn't your boyfriend."

"Yet," she rectified. "He's not my boyfriend yet."

"What part of 'Kelsey is dating him' do you not understand, Brooklyn? Kelsey isn't one of those people that stay silent on how they feel. Take a hint. She made it clear at the mall that she doesn't like you trying to pursue Conner."

"I don't care."

"You definitely will start to care when she beats you up. And you know she will. That girl puts Mike Tyson's anger issues to shame."

She scoffed loudly and crossed her arms over her chest, narrowing her eyes at Nicolas. "I can defend myself."

"Oh, please," he busted out laughing. "You couldn't defend yourself against a toddler. Only an idiot would try to fight a gang member's girlfriend."

This bit of information hit Brooklyn like a ton of bricks. Her jaw nearly fell to the floor, a dark expression gracing her face. "You don't know if he's in a gang."

"He hangs out with Bryce—a notable gang member. He helps him sell on campus, and he literally has a gang name tatted on the side of his neck. On the side of his fucking neck, Brooklyn!" He blurted, waving his hands around. "If that doesn't scream 'gang member,' then I don't know what else will."

I cupped the side of my face and groaned at the both of them as they went into a full on argument. Nicolas had said I shouldn't have invited Brooklyn, but it felt wrong to exclude her out of it. We were roommates. It was difficult to do something without her seeing me leave.

Nicolas was right though. I shouldn't have let Brooklyn tag along. This was originally going to be for the two of us. Once they were done debating on if Conner was or wasn't in a gang, I stood up and picked the first item to throw into the fire.

"Why do you have a photo of Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks?" Brooklyn tilted her head at me in complete and utter confusion.

"Oh." I looked down at the photos. "One of the first movies I dragged him to go see with me was Sleepless in Seattle this summer. I would throw the VHS in or something, but it still hasn't been released so I thought I would make do with some photos."

She didn't chuckle in my face, but I could see she was doing just about everything to not burst into a fumbling mess of laughter. She bit down on her lip and looked down at the sand. "That's slightly psychotic. What did Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan ever do to you?"

A flash of heat spread across my cheeks as I came to the realization that she was right. When we were driving here, Brooklyn had said that the entire idea of burning Remy's things seemed "over dramatic."

Maybe she was right about that?

I was a heartbeat away from canceling the whole bonfire when Nicolas got up from his sitting position and dug out his keys. "If you're going to mock this entire ceremony, then go back to the car and wait until we're done."

"I'm not even doing anything," Brooklyn pouted. "Am I not allowed to give my opinion?"

"This isn't a time for you to give your opinion. The only reason you're supposed to be here is to support her, not bitch and moan about each little detail." He dropped the keys into her hands and motioned to the parking lot a few meters away from where we were.

Brooklyn grumbled under her breath the whole way, frowning at the sand as she made the walk to Nicolas' car. She didn't have to leave; she could've easily kept any negative comments to herself.

"You don't need to be so rough with her."

"If I'm not, then who will be?" he mused with a small smile. "To be frank, you know we've always been like this, Sophia. I don't have one faint memory of Brooklyn and I getting along. We've always fought over something. It's just how we were while growing up."

He had a point there. I knew Brooklyn for years, but only recently got closer with her cousin. They were always bickering and shouting at each other, but they wouldn't stay away from each other. If you spotted Brooklyn, Nicolas was never that far behind. It was almost like they enjoyed fighting and getting on each other's nerves.

Nicolas exhaled a sigh of relief as if he had been holding it in for a long time. "Okay. Let's get started. Would you like some parting words before starting the Burning of Remy Annenberg?" Nicolas asked.

I suppressed a smile and raised the photo up a little higher. "No. I don't –actually. I do have a little something to say."

"Alright. Then proceed."

I cleared my throat and slowed my breathing, concentrating on the cool breeze the ocean provided and the heat that radiated off the fire ahead of me. "Remy. I would like you to know that I'm not angry that you're a spineless excuse of a boyfriend. I'm happy that you revealed your true colors—"

"I see your true colors. And that's why I hate you," Nicolas sang.

"Can you not?" I shook my head at him for ruining the serious moment with a Cyndi Lauper song. Or at least a variation of the original lyrics

His face fell. "Sorry. I was just trying to set the mood. I'll stop singing."

I took a second to recollect my thoughts and went back to what I was saying. "Thanks for being a complete waste of time and energy. I'm not sure if I was honestly happy with you when there was no one else that knew about our relationship. I wish you luck in another life, but definitely not in this one."

The flames caught on to the corner of the photo, consuming the picture until it began to curl and transformed into ash. I flung the rest of it into the fire and then looked for something else to throw in.

"Is that what you really think of me?"

I focused on the ocean, and only the ocean, when I heard that voice behind me. My feet were glued in place. I knew that voice, memorized it even. Spinning around to see who it was useless.

"I told you to go back to ignoring me." I slammed my eyes shut. "Stop making this hard for me."

"Who are you talking to?" Nicolas asked and grabbed both of my shoulders, glancing at my surroundings. The voice I had thought I heard wasn't real at all.

I released a sigh. "I thought I...never mind."

For the following thirty minutes, I tossed the rest of the items into the fire and then diminished the flames after everything had turned to a pile of nothingness. Now that Remy was physically out of my life, I hoped that it also meant I didn't have to get dragged back into his hateful family.

  •••

I decided to see my mom for the weekend. After the chaos that had temporarily dominated my weekend, I needed a bit of time off campus.

In other words, I didn't like the options they had at the dining hall. It was Saturday, which meant there was about a high chance my mom would be making dinner for my siblings.

The two weekends I was at my mom's house, I didn't see her for very long. She was either busy at her real job or taking in clients in her back room.

Before you get any ideas, let me backtrack.

Last year, after the riots that ruined most of the city of Los Angeles, my mom lost the one place she had saved up for. It was her beauty salon. Ever since she was about eleven, she dreamed of owning her own business. Personally, I didn't want to own a business. I was more likely to find a dollar in between the seat cushions in the living room than to be successful in the business world.

Some people weren't born for it and others were.

My mother was one of those people. There was a drive in her that wasn't evident in me whatsoever. She was motivated by obstacles and didn't shriek at problems that occurred. She didn't have an issue with getting people to do what she wanted done.

However, something she did have an issue with was me driving late at night. That had everything to do with her being my mother and because of what happened last year. There was so much tension building up for the riots so I wasn't as shocked as everyone else was.

Mom still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of people rioting the streets after the Rodney King case that ended last year. Her business wasn't the only one that got ruined on Normandie Ave.

There was so much arsenic and looting on the streets where her beauty salon was located. Thankfully, she wasn't opening when the riots started in April of last year. No one was trying to rob the place, but the clothing store connected to hers was lit on fire, leading her salon to go up in flames. On the street I lived, it was pretty hard to not know someone who was affected by the riots.

"Mom, Sophia's here," someone said from inside when I closed the door behind me.

After easing into the living room, mom didn't wait a second to shout at me when I walked in at about 8pm. With a kitchen towel on her shoulder she peered at me with her brows pulled together. I knew that look far too well. "Sophia, Que hora es?"

She had a watch on her. I didn't get why she wanted me to tell her what the time was, but instead of questioning her, I answered her question in a flat, monotone voice. "Eight-twenty."

Her frown deepened. She didn't like it when I responded in English, but it was a bad habit that I stuck to. When I was younger, she wouldn't respond back to me until I said it back to her in Spanish, but since I got older, she wasn't as hard on me.

"It's not that late, Mom."

"Not that late," she scoffed, returning back to the kitchen. "I don't like you walking the streets this late. Something could happen to you."

"Nothing's going to happen to me, ma. You're overreacting." To my mom, 6pm was the acceptable time to come  visit for dinner. Anything later than that was absurd. Growing up, I had gotten locked out of my house multiple times simply because I didn't make curfew.

"Oooh, someone's in trouble," my little brother Jamie cooed from the sofa.

I slapped his arm and stole the remote from him. "Cállate."

"Mom! She said shut-up!" he whined, grabbing for the remote, but I used my long arms to push him back far away from me, pressing my palm to his forehead. "Give it back to me."

"Do you know I always wanted a little sister?" I said, cocking my head to the side. "I had it all figured out. She was going to share clothes with me and I'd paint her nails. But instead, mom found you in the dumpster and decided to keep you."

"That's not true." He cried out. "You're making that up."

"Yeah, it is. Don't you even know what your name translates to? It means garbage in Latin or something."

"No, it doesn't!" Jamie screamed. He gave up on his battle for the remote and ran to where my mom was in the kitchen, tugging on her apron and repeating the story I had shared with him.

"No one likes snitches," I shouted to him.

I did this to him for as long as I could remember, and he fell for it every time. For the first couple of years, it was out of hate. I was the baby before he came along and I didn't like the attention he had taken from me. I had grown out of that very quickly though. I didn't