16. Plan B

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"You're like my sweet milk to my cookies," I sing, one hand pouring milk over a bowl of cookie cereal and the other holding a spoon as a microphone. "You're like my cheese to my macaro—"

Pennywise's giggles shatter the calmness of the morning. My hands tremble with fear, and I accidentally spill some milk on the countertop.

"Shoot." I grab a paper towel to clean up the mess I've made before I sit on one of the stools at the kitchen island and check my message.

Mr. Dumpy: Good Morning, Miss Mochi!

Mr. Dumpy: Got the e-mail from that she-devil already?

A laugh still tumbles from my lips whenever I hear—or this time, read—Ollie referring to Celia by that nickname. It's evil, but I can't help it. Right now, I'm starting to think that Ollie is right, and Celia might actually be an incarnation of the devil herself.

If Celia hadn't sent the e-mail containing her new songs to me earlier, I would've still been in Hawaii with my very own Mr. Dumpy right now. I know she must be very excited about her upcoming EP, but this is New Year's Day. She could at least wait until tomorrow instead of waking me up at seven o'clock sharp.

Me: Yep. Haven't listened to the songs yet though.

Me: This is New Year's Day, Mr. Dumpy.

Me: Stop being such a workaholic and enjoy the holiday, will ya?

I send him a sticker of Mr. Dumpy sleeping with his mouth open, drool dribbling down his chin.

Mr. Dumpy: Just checking. No need to be rude.

Mr. Dumpy: Btw, don't open TweetyGram, okay?

The circus has already begun, hasn't it?

Anxiety crawls over my skin like an army of ants. But it dissipates into thin air when my mind reminds me of how much concern Ollie has for me. I've survived hell once with him by my side, and as long as he's there with me, I'm 100% positive I'll make it through again this time.

Me: Don't worry. I won't.

I send him a sticker of Miss Mochi winking flirtatiously with clouds of hearts floating around, trying to express my feelings without a word.

Well, that idiot probably won't be able to read between the lines. But it doesn't hurt to try, right?

Mr. Dumpy: I'll take that as a promise.

Mr. Dumpy: See you soon, Bestie.

A fierce sense of accomplishment sweeps through me, and my face splits into a grin. Bestie. He doesn't call me sis anymore. So that means I'm officially out of The Sister—

The loud slam of the front door makes me flinch, and I find Sophia standing near the door with her hands perched on her hips, scowling at me. How did I not hear her open the door?

"Is it true?"

I pull my head back, confused. "Is what true?"

"Are you going to work together with that witch?" Sophia's loud voice bounces off the walls.

"Shh." I raise a finger to my lips and glance at the closed guest bedroom door. "Keep it down, will ya? Mac is still sleeping."

"Seriously?" Sophia raises an eyebrow in disbelief, strutting into the kitchen. "Mac? Still asleep at eight?"

"She spent the whole night TweetyTiming with Nate, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Time difference sucks, huh?" Sophia plonks on the stool across the kitchen island from me.

"Uh-huh. The question is what are you doing here at eight? I thought you were going to spend the whole night and morning—and I quote—doing all kinds of kinky stuff with Dylan?" I tease.

"I was. Until I opened my TweetyGram to check how many likes I got on my Happy New Year post—"

"You opened your TweetyGram while you were—"

"And found your face with Oliver and that witch on the Explore page instead!" she fumes, her chest heaving up and down. As a knot of anxiety twists in my stomach, Sophia sets her mouth in a tight line. "Now answer my question. Are you seriously going to work together with that witch?"

"Calm down, cous. Celia is not a witch. She's—was my friend too, you know?"

Although I don't hate Celia for what happened to me, hell would have to stop burning first before I even want to be friends with her again.

"Are you for real?" The frown lines across Sophia's forehead deepen. "She bashed you on TweetyGram, wrote a crappy song about how you were a boyfriend snatcher and a backstabber, and basically brainwashed her whole fan base into thinking you were the villain in her twisted fairytale romance. Oh, she's a witch alright!"

Having been harassed and slut-shamed in her youth, Sophia hates bullies to the core. That was why, when she first heard the news that I—her favorite cousin—had been attacked by Celia's crazy fans, she went ballistic. If I hadn't stopped her, she would've been rotting in jail as we speak.

While I'm touched by Sophia's concern, I feel the urge to stop her from doing anything rash—such as committing a brutal murder.

"Can you blame her? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, remember?"

"This is different, V." Sophia rests her forearms on the countertop and leans forward, concern shining through her blue-green eyes. "You are not a boyfriend snatcher and a backstabber. Why do you let her get into your head?"

I squirm in my seat. "Look, I'm not saying she's a saint. If I were in her shoes, I wouldn't even have thought of doing the things that she did. But I do understand why she did it. In a way, I was the third person in her relationship with Ollie. I mean, wouldn't you be jealous if Dylan hung out with another woman?"

"It depends. If that other woman was Mac, who had been best friends with him for years before I met them, then no, I wouldn't be jealous. Because I trust both of them, V, and they've done nothing to make me even the least bit suspicious." As I open my mouth to speak, she continues, "Let me ask you this. When Oliver and that witch were dating, did you ever spend some time alone with him, just the two of you? And I don't mean doing work stuff."

"Well, at first, yeah. But after a while, things . . . changed between Ollie and me."

"Changed how?"

"I didn't want Celia to get the wrong impression about Ollie's relationship with me. So Ollie and I didn't text each other unless it was life-threatening, we asked our co-workers to join us for lunch, and we always invited Celia to our horror movie nights," I explain. "Well, Celia couldn't stand horror movies, so we ended up watching period dramas instead. And come to think of it, Ollie and I stopped having horror movie nights a few months after he got together with Celia."

"Exactly," Sophia says. "You and Oliver kept your distance from each other the moment they got serious, so that wicked witch shouldn't have any reason to accuse you of being the third person in her relationship with Oliver. If any, she was the one who stole him from you!"

To be honest, Sophia has a point. Still, the last thing I want is to pour gasoline on the fire.

"Ollie and I weren't—still aren't—together in that sense, so technically—"

"Bottom line is you"—she points a finger at me—"were an innocent victim. She was the evil mastermind."

I chuckle. "Okay, okay. But it's all in the past, cous. I'm going to let bygones be bygones. Right now, all I want is to focus on work and getting out of The Sister Zone."

"But V," she insists, slamming her fists against the countertop, "she was the reason you got Slushied!"

The very mention of that incident sends chills all over my body, and hot fires of humiliation still race through my veins when I remember what happened. It's one thing to receive mean comments and hateful slurs on TweetyGram. But to be videotaped being humiliated in the middle of a busy street and having said video uploaded—liked by over a million people—on TweetyTube is on a whole other level.

I swallow the tightness in my throat and focus on preventing my cousin from being a criminal. "Celia didn't even mention anything about me in her posts, cous. People just believed what they wanted to believe. They wanted a villain to hate, and I just happened to be there."

As the words finish rolling out of my lips, a realization hits me. I guess I didn't do anything wrong after all, huh? Those people are just a bunch of psychos.

"Are you blind? She planted the doubts. She dropped the hints. Here. See for yourself." Sophia fiddles with her phone before holding it out for me to see.

Shivers run down my back when I see the screenshot of the post that Celia made two years ago—specifically, the picture of Piña Colada Slushie displayed in the middle of the phone screen.

"Cold. Just like the way you treated me," Sophia reads the caption out loud. "She posted this two days before the incident. If she hadn't, then her psychotic followers wouldn't have had the idea of throwing a bucket of slushie at you, cous."

Truth be told, I'd be lying if I say I never had any suspicion toward Celia. The idea that she posted that picture on purpose to drive her fans to slushie me crossed my mind more than once. But I always thought I was just being paranoid as usual. I was, wasn't I?

I draw a deep breath and focus on the present. "Why did you screenshot that anyway?"

"Just in case you finally kill her, this"—Sophia points her perfectly manicured finger at her phone—"is gonna be the proof for your defense."

A chuckle escapes me. "I'm not gonna kill anyone, okay? Besides, she texted me right after the incident happened and apologized on behalf of her fans."

"Yeah," she scoffs, "so she can get Oliver back."

"Huh?"

"Don't you see? It's Manipulation One-Oh-One. Pretend like someone else is the villain, in this case, her fans, so that she looks like the good guy. I'm telling you. I wouldn't be surprised if that witch turned out to be the one who hypnotized Oliver into thinking you're only a sister to him."

"That doesn't make any sense, cous. She dated Henry Stickles a few weeks after that incident. Why would she date Henry if she wanted Ollie back?"

Sophia clicks her fingers thrice. "Timing, cous, timing! Henry Stickles blew up after Love Mojo, right?"

I stifle a laugh. "Love Spell, cous. Love Spell."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Henry Stickles was her ticket to even bigger fame. She didn't need Oliver anymore, so she cast him aside like trash."

Sophia's argument manages to inject a dose of suspicion into my head.

Henry Stickles and his band The Coolest Guys in the Universe did become an overnight sensation after releasing their debut single on that fateful Valentine's Day. And Celia's romance with Henry Stickles did propel her to even bigger stardom. The second Celia and Henry were photographed by the paparazzi having a dinner date, their names were all over the gossip magazines. They quickly became this generation's Brangelina, while Ollie and I became yesterday's story.

I always thought Celia dated Henry for damage control—to help me because she felt guilty for what happened.

But I'm not so sure anymore.

"Why is she here now then?" I wonder, scooping a spoonful of cereal into my mouth. "There are lots of other music producers out there. Why did she choose Ollie and me? She has to be doing it because she felt guilty like she said, right?"

"Oh, please. She chose to work together with you and Oliver because no one wants to go near her after she cheated on Henry Stickles with Leonardo Dickinbottom."

I choke on my cereal, coughing and sputtering. "Hickinbottom, cous. Leonardo Hickinbottom."

"Slip of tongue, cous. Slip of tongue," she quips. "Anyway, if I were her, my next step would be getting back together with my cheating ex. Put my name back in the spotlight as a loving, caring girlfriend, and be Hollywood's Sweetheart again. Regain my lost fanbase—those delusional kids who think people need to look good on cameras to fall in love. Next step? Star in a reality show."

Sophia's explanation sounds crazy, but it somehow makes sense to me. Ugh. Celia really is a witch, huh?

Although it annoys me how Celia uses Ollie and me for her own gain, it's too late for me to pull out of the project. The only thing I can do is stop my cousin from killing that she-devil.

"You're reading too much into this, cous."

Sophia groans. "Why can't you see it, V? Celia Adams is a crazy, manipulative psychopath. And how do I know this?" She allows a short, dramatic pause. "Because I used to be one!"

I break into a chortle. "Yeah, but you're not a crazy, manipulative psychopath anymore, are you? People change. And maybe Celia did too. I mean, last night, I ran into Jack Johnson, and you wouldn't believe what he does for a living now."

I spend the next few minutes telling Sophia about what happened last night, and when I finish my story, the atmosphere has lightened up considerably.

"I still can't believe that jackass became a cop." Sophia shakes her head, chortling.

"Yeah, me neither—"

The sound of the guest bedroom door creaking open interrupts our conversation, and Mac walks out of the room, her honey-brown eyes sparkling and her pale skin glowing. "Morning everyone."

"Mornin'," Sophia and I reply in unison.

"Okay, story time's over." I set my spoon in my empty bowl. "Let's focus on getting me out of The Sister Zone, shall we?"

"Alright." As Sophia trots across the room, Mac quickly follows her.

I swivel my chair around and rest my elbows on the countertop behind me, watching them drag a double-sided whiteboard-on-wheels to the middle of the small living room.

A half-full board is revealed as they flip it around.

Written across the top of the board is 'How to Get out of the Sister Zone' with two hearts drawn before and after the sentence. It is followed by a detailed plan of Ryan's explanation from the other day, and a ten-step staircase in the middle of the board. A few pictures of Ollie that Mac downloaded from TweetyGram and printed yesterday are arranged nicely at each side of the board, surrounded by heart doodles.

I bite back a giggle. Put some candles around the board and it'll be a perfect shrine for Ollie.

"Since Ollie has called me bestie instead of sis earlier today, can I safely assume that I'm in The Friend Zone already?" I tip my head forward and grin.

"Not exactly." As my smile drops, Sophia draws a pink stick woman on the sixth step of the ladder. "See, right now you're on the border between The Sister Zone and The Friend Zone. Because even though he didn't call you sis anymore, he can still easily push you back into The Sister Zone, especially now that that evil witch is back."

"What evil witch?" Mac asks.

As Sophia opens her mouth to speak, I say, "It's a long story. So you're telling me that Celia is our very own Evil Sir Taco?"

"Bingo." Sophia snaps her fingers together and points at me, mimicking her teacher.

For a reason I can't understand, Sir Taco always reminds me of Celia. I suppose the extra shredded cheese sticking out from his Tortilla head does resemble Celia's long, honey-blonde hair.

"Ugh, great." I put my elbows on my thighs and prop my chin in my palms. "What should I do now?"

"What you have to do is . . ." Sophia opens her mouth wide to speak, but no sound comes out. After a while, she presses her lips together into a thin line. "Honestly, I have no idea. I'm gonna have to call Ryan and talk to him about this."

Mac and I burst into laughter, but Sophia ignores us and strides to the kitchen to grab her purse. Her phone dings just as she pulls it out of her purse, and she glances at the screen.

"Ah, speak of the devil." As she reads the new message, her forehead folds, and she nods to herself. "Hmm. Interesting."

"What is it?" I ask.

An amused smile tugs at the corner of her lips as she types a response, her fingers moving rapidly over the screen of her phone. "You wouldn't believe what your idiotic bestie is doing right now."

I grimace. "He's not trying to beat Ryan up with a baseball bat, is he?"

"Oh, he's doing something much more stupid than that," she answers with a laugh, kicking my curiosity up a notch.

As I crane my head forward to peek at the messages, she locks her phone and jams it back into her purse.

"Well,cous. It's time for plan B." Sophia's mischievous smirk returns to her face."It's time to play dirrrty."


Author's Note:

So, do you think Celia is as evil as Sophia believes?

What do you think Ollie is doing? xD

As always, if you enjoyed this chapter, please vote and/or leave comments. Thanks for reading!


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