It Started with a Bet...

Quick A/N: To fully understand one of the inside jokes in this chapter, I suggest you read this journal post.
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I sit on the floor quietly. Again. It's been how many days now since I broke up with Corey? Five? Six?

I feel awful. Corey didn't deserve this, neither did Nick. It was in freshman year, a couple months after Trina died.

We had never been especially close. I mean, come on. What's love at the age of 15? We just kind of drifted apart. Like me and Corey.

I really shouldn't be wallowing in the past, right? I should be beyond all this. But it's vaguely comforting to be acting like my old self. Clarice barges into my room, tears streaming down her face. She grabs me by the hand and drags me out of the room.

"We're going somewhere!" She yells to Trevor as we leave. Trust him not to notice that she's crying. Psh. Men.

"What happened?" I ask as I slip into the driver's seat of her car. She hands me her keys and wipes her eyes. Thank God for waterproof mascara.

"Haley!" She says angrily. "Just because you broke up with someone doesn't mean you can just wallow in misery forever. You need to get out of this rut! Breaking up is not the end of the world!" She sniffs again and hands me a printed out set of directions to somewhere.

"I'm so sorry Clarice. What happened?" She shakes her head.

"Nothing." Yeah right. Knowing Clarice, she wants to talk but won't admit it. I don't say anything, waiting. "Matt and I broke up." I stop the car.

"Oh, Clarice, I'm so sorry." She waves for me to continue driving.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Guys can be such jerks! He didn't even give me a real reason. It just 'wasn't working' Psh. Even the janitor could've seen that!"

I pull into the parking garage and we start walking through LA proper.

"So what are we doing?" I ask Clarice. Her eyes are puffy and red, but she looks better.

"The ultimate breakup cure!" She yells, pumping a fist through the air. A couple people turn to look at us sympathetically.

"And that entails...?"

First off, the mall. We hit up all the makeup counters, giving each other make-overs. Clarice has come prepared. She pulls a camera out of her purse and starts snapping photos. Wacky photos.

It's been a long time since I've stuck my tongue out and made faces at a camera. Then we head to the spa, stopping, of course, for a brief swing by the photo booth thing. I fold the strip carefully and put it in my back pocket. I used to have so many of these. Trina and I made a whole scrapbook of them.

A long spa treatment later we head to the old karaoke place, only to be kicked out when all the drinkers came in.

"Movies!" Clarice yells, dragging me to the theater. I kind want to go back home, but I let her take me.

We enter the movie theater, buying one ticket with the intention of watching as many movies as possible.

"We are badass!" Clarice cheers. I don't have the heart to tell her that we're actually pretty pathetic.

A God-awful tragedy later (at Clarice's insistence), we stumble out of the dark theater room, Clarice sniffing into a tissue.

"That was so sad," Clarice sobs. I make a mental note to avoid movies with titles anything close to 'Whispers in the Snow' and posters involving a blind violinist and a lonely couple in a blizzard. Not fun.

"If we can't watch a comedy next, I'm leaving," I say resolutely. I used to have these arguments with Trina all the time so I'm a pro at bargaining for my laughs.

"Fine, fine. You emos don't understand the beauty of tragedies." Emo. The word brings back memories. Memories of really bitchy high school kids and a really nerdy therapist.

"I don't like that word," I say quietly. She looks up at me.

"Sorry." I see Janice a few feet away. She's alone.

"Should we invite her along?" Clarice looks at me like I'm crazy.

"What?! Why?" I shrug.

"I'm kinda interested to get to know her." Clarice glares at me and opens her mouth, cut off by her phone. I can see from her face that she's afraid it's Matt.

"Hello?" The nice thing about ghetto phones, as I've mentioned before, is that it's really easy to hear both sides of a conversation from a few feet away.

"Hey, where are you?" It's Spike.
"The movie theater," Clarice responds. Her voice is tight and strained.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. I was thinking Haley and I just needed some hanging time."
"Sounds brilliant. I think we all need it."
"Are you guys hanging out at Trevor's?"
"Yeah."
"Who's there?"
"All the guys. Matt, Corey, Trevor, me. The whole gang." Clarice's teeth clench at her ex's name.
"Well, I'm just here with Haley. I think she's delusional because she's suggesting we invite Janice along."
"Janice? She's kidding."
"Do you think I should agree or get Haley to an asylum?" I raise an eyebrow at her. Really?
"Whatever floats your boat, sweetheart."
Clarice's teeth clench again and she goes red. There's an awkward silence.
"Um, let Trevor know that Haley's having a sleepover for me, will you?"
"Yeah, I'll tell Trevor. Bye."
"Bye."

There's a long silence. Clarice wipes her eyes again.

"Well, it's time for the ritual of the exes." I look at her.

"The what?" She pulls her phone out and scrolls through her phone book.

"When you break up with someone, you either delete their number or change the name. If you're still suffering but you don't want to or can't delete their number, you usually use an acronym." She changes what was once: 'Mattie <3' to 'M'. She shuts her eyes, sighs, and presses enter.

"I wonder if he deleted me..." she whispers to herself. In answer, her phone buzzes with a text. It's from Spike.

"You broke up, didn't you?"

She inhales sharply then let's out a shaky breath. I take the phone from her.

"It's Haley. Clarice is wondering if he deleted her from his phone. Can you check?"

The reply comes quickly.

"That's two godchildren you owe me now, Haley." Clarice laughs and sniffs, wiping her eyes with one hand.

"Two?" she asks.

"Only if you deliver," I text back. The reply is almost instantaneous.

"Oh I always deliver, baby ;)" We start cracking up in the middle of the theater.

"We needed that," Clarice texts.

"That's what I'm here for. Enjoy your evening, ladies <@ <@"

"What is that?" I ask, squinting at the 'at' symbol.

"He sent us each a rose. Or maybe a bouquet of roses," Clarice says with a smile. "Creepy and sweet at the same time."

We link arms and head into the next movie.

"Hey, Janice!" Clarice calls. The girl's still standing there, alone. Janice turns.

"What?"

"Matt and I are done. Why don't you give him a call. I'm sure he's lonely." I tug on Clarice's arm.

"Clarice, don't be rude!"

"Rude? She's the one who got between us!" and she starts heading into one of the theaters, dragging me along with her. I look up at the electric marquee. The title is 'Confessions in the Wind.' I drag her back out.

"What?" she whines.

"I flatly refuse to see anything involving whispers, confessions, or promises in various states of weather."

"What?"

"I prefer my daily weather report free of pathetic sappy crap," I insist. "You don't need to whisper in the snow, you can just sit inside by the fire and sip hot cocoa."

"But it's a touching story involving--"

"Let me guess," I say, crossing my arms. "Girl falls in love with...I dunno, a robber. But she doesn't know that the robber has cancer. So the robber pretends he was only using her, thereby breaking both his heart and hers. He then wanders off to die alone, only she finds out the truth leading to a teary hospital scene in which everyone and their grandmothers are crying." Clarice pouts.

"It's a cowboy and tuberculosis."

"Not going."

"Fine. I'll take Janice then." She's insane. Completely insane. This is what a 10 slurpee high and a break up can do to a person.

"Fine. Take Janice. Take Janice all the way to theater 10."

"I will!" yells Clarice, pulling a rather shocked looking Janice behind her. I can't help but scoff as I follow them. Theater 10 is Megamind.

A couple hours and a couple hundred slurpees later, we exit Megamind. Clarice has one arm through mine, one through Janice's. Guess who downed most of the slurpees?

"Let's get you home," I say as Clarice giggles randomly.

"There's no Queen of England!" she says, quoting one of the lines from the movie. I roll my eyes.

"Hey, Janice, do you want to sleepover with us?" i don't think I can handle Clarice alone like this. Janice pauses for a minute.

"Um, sure. You know, we could go to my place..." A quick call to Clarice's parents later we're headed to Janice's place.

For starters, Janice lives in the nice part of town. The part of town where families of three live in mansions big enough to house at least a dozen refugees. The part of town where a personal 7-person movie theater is totally normal.

"We can watch movies tomorrow," Janice says, tossing us each one of her bikinis. I'm secretly glad Clarice ingrained the habit of waxing into my head when I was dating Corey. Janice leads the way to her Jacuzzi. We all lower ourselves in as a butler comes out with refreshments.

"You have a butler?" I ask in shock. Janice closes her eye and leans back.

"Yup. Weekday nights only. You can go chill if you want, Steve." He nods suavely, like a real butler should and positively floats from the room.

"How old is he?" Clarice asks. "He looks pretty young." Janice shrugs.

"I don't know. 21, at least. This job is what gets him through college." She seems to smirk.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of," Clarice says angrily. I can't help but be annoyed at Janice. Being rich is no license to be rude.

"Listen," says Janice, sipping a drink. "We don't get along. We never really have and never really will. So why don't we just go past that for today? Let's just ignore our differences for the sake of this little 'guys suck' party."

"I thought you'd have a bunch of guys lined up for tonight," Clarice says dubiously.

"Oh I do," says Janice calmly. "I believe I'm currently standing up..." she counts on her fingers.”5 boys?"

"That's awful!" Clarice yells, standing up. But I have a feeling from the satisfied determination in Janice's eyes that there's a reason.

"Who are they?" I ask. Janice just shrugs.

"Some guys who deserve it, that's all." That kind of calms Clarice down. Especially when Janice gives us a list containing some of the most prominent manwhores on campus.

"I was thinking of stringing Matt along," Janice says calmly. I have a feeling she's trying to annoy Clarice again. "But he's not worth the effort."

"He's not!" Clarice says, a little too loudly and forcefully. Her phone dings from beside the Jacuzzi and she pops it open. It's a text from Spike.

"I'm an acronym," she says quietly. Tears start rolling down her cheeks. I think it's more the thought of Matt than the actual acronyming that bothers her.

"Oh, shut up," Janice says, rolling her eyes. "Have you never dealt with rejection before?"

"Shut up, Janice!" Clarice yells angrily. "You know nothing about this!"

"Yup," says Janice, popping the p. "Absolutely nothing. I don't know what it's like to date Matt or to be dumped by him. I don't know what it's like to think a guy actually cares for you and then find out too late that he doesn't really give a shit." Clarice and I share a glance.

"Shall we continue the pity party?" I suggest quickly.

The party in question involves a popcorn fight in the living room while attempting to watch 'Scary Movie 4.'

Steve eventually floats in, his eyes asking why we're not using the theater, his sigh saying 'damn, I'm gonna be cleaning this up tomorrow morning.'

"Oh, loosen up, Steve." Janice rolls her eyes.

"Yes, Miss Harper," he says in his British accent. Then, quick as a flash, he throws a pillow at her. "Pillow fight," he comments drily before walking away.

"PILLOW FIIIIGHT!" yells Clarice, continuing the battle. When we look up, Steve is gone. I shrug and start whacking Clarice back with the pillow.

We finally get to bed at three in morning after a 2 am run to Taco Bell and a rather drunken game of Halo later. None of us know how to play and we're all tired as hell, so we may as well have been drunk. The game, Janice explains, is only here because Steve uses it all the time.

Janice, unlike the rest of us, is kinda tipsy. She raided Steve's supply of beer. I refused to drink, and Clarice did too. I'm pretty sure she would've gotten drunk out of her mind if I hadn't responded to Janice's "why not?" with "Drunk driving accidents happen. And they kill people."

When Janice emitted an enormous Tarzan yell and jumped from the couch, Steve came by to remove the 6-pack from her floor, as well as the two empty cans lying there. Janice put up a bit of a struggle, but Steve was pretty firm.

"It's time to sleep now, Janice," he said gently. I didn't know butlers could show emotions. Janice giggled slightly and patted his cheek.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." Steve picked Janice up and requested that we follow him to her room. I had a feeling he had done this before.