There's a fine line between a friend and an enemy. One minute there's all this trust, and laughter, and love. And the next minute...there's hurt, and cruelty, and betrayal. I know it sounds kind of crazy and dramatic, but it's true. After all, it happened to me.

Mackenzie Walter was my best friend since we were seven; even back then, she was drop-dead gorgeous, daring, and more fun than anyone I'd ever met.

In middle school, Mackenzie decided to let Isabel Marquez and Erika Connelly into our exclusive two-person club. Isabel was talented, self-assured, and just sour enough to balance out Erika's sugary sweetness. And somewhere between wild Mackenzie, sassy Isabel, and angelic Erika, there's me--Chloe Sacks. Aspiring artist, chronic daydreamer, borderline neurotic.

In the stormy ocean that is high school, the four of us clung to our friendship like a raft. At the start of our junior year, we were as close as ever, but by the end of that year, things were very different. And this is the story of how everything changed.

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At our school--Georgia O'Keeffe School of the Arts--it's pretty much your typical high school, except there's a focus on the arts. We've got Geometry and Geology, but we can also take, like, Abstract Painting or Modern Dance, or even Cowboy-Boot Design.

As you can imagine, almost everyone here is obsessed with having his or her own style. So, in freshman year, my friends and I came up with the nickname "Fashion High." The first day of junior year at Fashion High began just like any other--for about two minutes.

"Attention, O'Keeffe students! Your first period classes will begin at 8:20 sharp," came the announcement over the intercoms in the halls. My friends--Isabel and Erika--and I were there chatting about our schedules.

"I'm going to cry!" wailed Erika sullenly, peering at her schedule. "We only have one class together? This has never happened before..."

"Erika, sweetie, chill," said Isabel with a nervous smile. She too felt weird being in just one class with her three best friends.

"If Mackenzie ever shows up, we can check her schedule, too," I said, hoping she was also in the same class as we were.

As if right on cue, Mackenzie popped up seemingly out of nowhere behind the three of us, wrapping her arms around us in a big, gleeful bear hug.

"Morning, sexies," the blonde bombshell chimed. "Any good gossip yet?"

Isabel took and scanned Mackenzie's schedule, breathing a sigh of relief. "Whew, you're with us in Health 101."

I studied something I noticed on Mackenzie's back, half-hidden by her luxuriously soft locks of hair. Mackenzie spotted my odd squinting stares and giggled.

"Mac--turn around. What is that?" I asked curiously.

Mackenzie smiled and held up the majority of her hair, revealing a small lightning bolt gracing her left shoulder blade in black ink.

"That, girls, is my back-to-school gift to myself," she answered. "You like?"

Erika gasped in surprise. "A real tattoo? Didn't it hurt?"

"Is your mom gonna kill you?" Isabel asked.

"You didn't tell me you wanted to get one," I mumbled, frowning in disappointment.

"No," Mackenzie answered. "it didn't hurt. And mommy dearest shelled out the big bucks herself." She giggled happily. "Isn't it fabulous?"

I watched her as she left to go to first period when the bell rang. "But when we were IMing last night, you didn't mention--"

"I forgot," Mackenzie said quickly, disappearing around the corner before I could reply.

The day stretched out in front of me, daunting. And somehow--oddly--it seemed more daunting because I'd seen Mackenzie's tattoo. I felt that there was something different about Mackenzie now. Like I'd never be able to look at her without thinking about that lightning bolt.

I'm such a freak, I told myself with a smirk on my face.

Later that morning, in Health class...

"Chlo, Isa!" cried Mackenzie.

"We saved you seats!" Erika chimed in.

As Mackenzie put on her make-up, she asked sarcastically--and yet maybe even seriously, "Isn't it Friday yet?"

I rolled my eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Don't get me started. Pre-Calc this morning was a nightmare," I groaned. "There's no way I'll pass that class this year."

"Just bribe some geek to...help...you..." Mackenzie trailed off, her icy blue eyes locked on a girl's form looming next to Chloe's desk.

"Hi, Mackenzie. Oh, hi, Zoe."

"It's Chloe," I grumbled.

Nicola Burnett is--manicured hands-down--the most popular fashionista at Fashion High. She meets all the requirements: staggering collection of designer labels, ridiculously hot boyfriend, and the impressive talent to seem sweet and bitchy at the same time.

For Mackenzie, Nicola was the ultimate authority on fabulousness, and Nicola found Mackenzie just fabulous enough to merit a little attention.

"So," Nicola smirked. "did you get it?"

"Of course!" Mackenzie said with a grin, turning around and lifting her hair to show off her black lightning bolt tattoo.

"You wuss," Nicola cocked her head to the left, hands on her hips. "I got mine below my belly button."

At that moment, Nicola's boyfriend, Gabe Alpert, approached, wrapping his arms around Nicola's waist.

"Baby, go grab us some seats," Nicola demanded with a soft, snobby frown on her glossy lips. "And take my bag."

As if he were her obedient pet, he smiled. "Whatever you say, beautiful." He then spotted Mackenzie. "Hey, Mackenzie. 'Sup?"

"Hello there, Gabe," Mackenzie said with a flirtacious smile.

"Mac?" I whispered, thinking to myself. You told Nicola you were going to get a tattoo?Mackenzie leaned over the aisle toward my desk. "What?" she whispered back.

"Forget it," I sighed.

"Attention, students," announced our Health teacher, clearing her throat. "Welcome to Health 101. My name is Ms. Lamour. Some of you--" She narrowed her eyes behind her thick-rimmed glasses, seemingly glaring at everyone in the room as she scanned the student's faces. "--the hypochondriacs, the fakers, and a few, uh, experimental students who think they can smoke drugs and get away with it--" She paused for effect. "--may also know me as the school nurse. Any questions?"

One boy--Gabe, unfortunately--raised his hand, slouched in his desk in the front of the room. "Yeah. Have you ever smoked drugs, Ms. Lamour?" he asked snidely.

"Comments such as those will be disregarded. Health is a serious subject," Ms. Lamour stated, turning to write on the chalkboard. "The class will be divided into five sections: Nutrition, Exerci--"

"Excuse me," said a shy, male's voice from the door. "I'm sorry to be late."

"Please take a seat," Ms. Lamour said.

It was Adam Stevenson--lifetime member of the unpopular crowd. Exhibit A: his Star Trek T-shirt--not worn in a hipster-ironic way, but with utter earnestness.

"Ooh, Adam! Come sit next to me!" Gabe called in a sarcastic voice.

Gabe, in particular, had had it in for the kid ever since Adam famously hadn't let Gabe cheat off of him on a Chemistry test last year.

Mackenzie passed me a note while Ms. Lamour was waiting for everyone to quiet down--still facing the board.

It read:

Gabe Alpert is so hot.

with a heaping side of arrogance!

"As I was saying," Ms. Lamour continued. "this year we'll be studying Nutrition, Exercise, Drugs, and..." She cleared her throat again. "...Reproduction."

The snickers were instantly heard. Then, a gutsy boy sitting next to Gabe raised his hand, trying not to crack up. "'Reproduction?'"

Gabe was next. "Oh, c'mon. Can't you just say sex?" he asked snidely.

"I will not tolerate that kind of talk in class," Ms. Lamour said sternly.

Forty-five agonizing minutes later...

"Iced lattes at Foam after school?" Mackenzie asked as we walked together in the halls.

"I'm so there," I grinned.

Isabel smiled. "I have to run to dance class now."

"Wait, you guys..." Erika said, stopping us. "Our annual first day photo!"

Erika was big on tradition. The yearly photos had been her idea.

"Hey, Chloe," Adam said as he passed by them. "How was your summer?"

I stammered, blushing. "Uh, fine. Thanks."

Erika held out the camera to Adam, stopping him. "Oh, Aaron--"

"Adam," he corrected.

"Oops, sorry. Can you take a picture of the four of us?"

Blushing, Mackenzie looked away. "I'm sure we can ask someone else." She looked around nervously. "Where did Nicola go?"

"I don't mind," Adam smiled. "I'm sort of an ameteur photographer."

"Well," Isabel said. "just hurry it up there, Man Ray."

"Is my lip gloss okay?" Mackenzie asked, touching her bottom lip gently.

And there we were, captured in time. By Adam Stevenson, of all people.

"See you, Chloe," Adam said after returning the camera to Erika.

Mackenzie seemed very deterred by this. "What the hell was that about?" she hissed at me. "Chloe, how does that loser even know your name?"

I looked at her. "We had English together last year, but I never even spoke to him."

"Oh, Mackenzie," Erika smiled. "don't call him a loser. You sound like one of those girls who actually cares about 'popularity.'"

"Erika," Isabel said, smirking. "I'm sorry to break it to you, but Mackenzie does care about popularity."

Isabel was right. Mackenzie's worst nightmare was for us all to lose our precarious social footing.

"You guys are making me late!" giggled Isabel as she ran off in one direction while the others turned in their own seperate directions to their next classes.

"Kiss. Kiss," said Mackenzie, waving her hand casually in the air for a moment.

"Mac?" I asked.

Mackenzie paused and turned to look at me over her shoulder. "Sweetie?"

"I know you're gonna tell me it's not a big deal, but I thought I heard you say to Nicola--"

"Chloe," she said, placing one hand on my shoulder. "if it means that much to you, we'll go to Seventh Street this weekened and get you a tattoo." She paused. "Something artsy."

Mackenzie used to know what I was going to say before I even said it. Mackenzie always just...got it.

But now, she'd missed the point entirely.