Massie Block looked out her bedroom window. It was Friday, November 18, 2009, 8:13 p.m., and Massie Block was alone. She was wearing her usual designer pajamas, waiting for someone that would never some.

Exactly one year ago, the Pretty Committee had joined together for Bean's funeral. Exactly one year ago, the Pretty Committee had broken up.

One fight. One fight was all it took. Each member was too stubborn to apologize, too stubborn to admit that each missed another.

Claire was now on People magazines' cover every other day. She had gone to the refuge of the small-time drama of Hollywood. Small-time compared to what had happened in Westchester. She couldn't face having no friends. Even Layne, Meena, and Heather had turned on her. She had been given a choice between them and the Pretty Committee, and she had chosen the Pretty Committee. All for nothing.

Alicia was in Spain. She hadn't even made it to school the next day. She had no friends outside the clique; she had been kicked out of dance for a particularly nasty stunt.

Massie had left her a voicemail a couple months ago. It was not apologetic. Neither girl answered her cell phone anymore.

Dylan and her mother had moved to New York City, far away enough that she wouldn't have to deal with the two remaining members still residing in Westchester. She moved the week after the fight.

Massie's mind moved to Kristen. The name tasted bitter in her mouth. The fire starter. The planner.

Kristen was still popular. Kristen was the alpha of Octavian Country Day. Kristen, with all her soccer cronies, was the respected bitch of that school. But that wasn't the worst.

Kristen had started the fight. And she had smiled, smiled, when Massie uttered those five words. Her best friend, her exclusive club, was over and no longer friends?

Kristen was happy about it. Even Skye Hamilton, the alpha one grade up from them, respected her! It was horrible!

Massie stopped herself. It was time to think about what had happened over a year ago. She didn't want to, but she felt she had to.

Bean had just gone six feet under. The group was all in black. Claire had just made a stupid comment that everyone had laughed at.

"Kuh-laire, if you're gonna say something stupid like that, why don't you go back to Hollywood? Paris Hilton could be your best friend. You could have a conversation that someone could understand."

Then Claire did what the Pretty Committee had thought impossible. She stood up for herself.

"I'm sick of all of you making fun of me! I get better grades than most of you; I just don't know the right thing to say sometimes! Why don't you make fun of Dylan when she does a burp joke, or Alicia?" Claire had started to cry. Her mascara was streaming down her face.

"Alicia always talks in Spanish and we don't understand her. So why am I any different?"

Kristen held surprised eyes, but quickly recovered. "That brings up a good point. Alicia, if you aren't going to speak English, then go back to Mexico!"

Massie had been silent throughout this 'encounter.' Now she decided to speak her mind.

"Leesh, it is ah-nnoying when you talk in Spanish. And Dylan, burps and farts are things that stink and come from your mouth and butt. They are nawt funny." That had been the wrong thing to say.

Dylan had burst into tears and told Massie the worst truth that came to her mind. "Since you started rating outfits, we've all been lying about your outfits. Most of them are only 6.5s!"

Three Pretty Committee members had cried when they had been dissed, but Massie held strong like the alpha she was.

Alicia did her damage. "Kristen, you think you're so perfect with your perfect grades and your perfect soccer record. But you're not! You have no money! I hate paying for you! I do it anyway though, but only because I'm afraid that everyone else would think I think I'm too good or too cheap to waste money! But I'm not!"

She took a deep breath and continued. "Who cares if you don't like me speaking Spanish? It's the one thing I can do that none of you can. It makes me special. So who cares if I flaunt it?"

Four sobs of simultaneous "I hate you!" followed that comment.

Then Massie had said those five fatal words. The hurtful, scarring words that repeated themselves in their pretty little heads each time something reminding of them of their happy past occurred.

Words that each girl was repeating in her head this very minute.

"The Pretty Committee is OVER!"

Kristen smiled soundlessly and walked in the direction of her apartment complex. Claire ran to the guesthouse. Alicia walked as fast as her legs would take her to her limo.

That was the first time she jogged.

Dylan first headed toward the Block kitchen, making her sob even more, and ran to the cold leather seats of her limo.

If any girl had turned around on Thursday, November 18, 2008, 8:13 p.m., they would have seen something unnerving. They would have seen something they hadn't seen in a long, long time.

If any girl had turned around on Thursday, November 18, 2008, 8:13 p.m., they would have seen Massie Block cry.

The tears were for everything she had buried, left unattended, everything that needed to be cried about. Her ignoring parents, Nina the Obscena, Derrington, Cam, Claire, her now ex-best friends, Bean, and everything else that needed to be cried about.

She ran inside, unable to deal with the pain that her four sisters were leaving her. Maybe, if she didn't watch their vehicles leave, her best friends wouldn't really be gone. Maybe, just maybe—

The time on Massie's clock had changed, knocking her back into the present.

It was now Friday, November 18, 2009, 8:14 p.m., and no one was coming for Massie Block. She was alone. And that in itself was heartbreaking enough.

But as Massie Block wiped away a tear, she had no idea that four other girls in Hollywood, New York, Spain, and even an apartment complex in Westchester County, New York were doing the exact same thing.