The Candace Clique

Prologue

Julia Becksmith collapsed on the bean bag, her newly dark red hair falling into heaps around the floor. Anastasia Cortez buried her face in her hands, her bright yellow sundress crumpling as she knelt down on the floor, peering through her fingers at Bridget who had just stopped tossing the volleyball up and down. Candace paced the room with her arms folded across her chest. The girl’s Jimmy Choo’s slapped on the wooden floor at exactly two seconds per foot.

Julia puffed out a loud sigh, making the three other girls look at her, “What do we do now, Can?”

Candace finally settled herself down on a chair, raking a hand through her perfect blonde hair, “We have to work on this, guys, we can’t just fall apart like this. We’ve been together for—what?—as long as I can remember!”

Bridget nodded, giving her volleyball a pat as if it was a pet, “I think Candace is right.”

“I think so, too,” Anastasia agreed, standing up from the floor with a dancer’s grace, dusting off invisible dust from her dress.

Julia sat up in an Indian sit on the bean bag, a ghost of a smile forming on her blood, red lips, “When has CanCan ever been wrong?”

The blonde let out a silent giggle, throwing a Spongebob stuffed toy at the rebel’s face. Bridget and Anastasia took hold of throw pillows, letting themselves loose as their friendship started to mend itself back up.