Chapter one.

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Hello! Just a quick note to all readers, if you can spare a moment.

I originally uploaded this piece of writing back when I was around fourteen, or maybe even thirteen. It isn't the best thing out there, and not my best work either. I'm revamping it for grammatical errors and better description, but not a lot can be done to overhaul the whole thing.

I did shut down my account for a while, because of this story mostly. I was a bit paranoid about my own talents, but I've decided to be proud of it and allow it to stay up, as well as my account. It's my first multi-chapter piece of writing, and so I must give it the credit it deserves.

Many people have voted and commented, favorited and enjoyed it many years ago and I want to say thank you to all those old, and new people who have made me smile and gave me confidence in my writing abilities. That's it really, just a bit of an overview.

Thanks once more, it's only because of you guys that I had the confidence to even try and make this a better piece.

Leigh J.

Lindsey Black: school sweetheart.

The girl every boy wanted, and the girl that every girl wanted to be.

Extremely typical that I was the girl that no one wanted to be, and that every boy, really didn't want. Especially when I was majorly hung up over the school's queen bee. Now normally, I didn't go for prissy bitches that had their crimson stained fingernails deep in daddies' wallet, like most of Lindsey's friends and cohorts.

But this was different. The reason it was different? Lindsey Black and I used to be best friends. Oh yeah, you guessed it: the school's most popular girl and the school's biggest loser: best of friends. Once upon a time. It was practically a conspiracy and a secret that no one would ever believe if I told them.

I also highly doubted Lindsey would try to convince them any different. It would ruin her reputation obviously. The ironic part was that everyone in Sandhurst secondary worshiped Lindsey, but she wasn't even a real person. Her name wasn't even Lindsey Black!

Back when I had known her, she was an only child who had a picture perfect life. A mother who attended all the school functions, baked cookies for Lindsey's lunch and prepared stunning meals when she had company. A banker for a father who, for as long as I had known him, sported a large, thick mustache.

He never shaved it, and he always pulled chunks out of it when he was stressed. Which was often apparently, working in a bank. Lindsey was spoilt rotten, her parents were brilliant and she had always had the ability to be popular, but she never seemed interested. She was a sweet kid.

Until the fire.

The fire ended everything: her mom and dad's life, her childhood home and Lindsey's world as she knew it. She was born Sarah Hale, and that's who she had been to me all my life. Hale was her father's surname but after the funeral, she took her mother's maiden name and switched out her own middle name for her first.

Therefore, creating the Lindsey Black sat in my classroom today and the most popular girl in school. The funny thing is, I didn't even see it coming. Not when she changed her name, not when she began to get more popular, not when she started wearing nicer clothes and not even when she started hanging out with different people.

I guess it's because immediately after the fire we became inseparable. She needed a friend: someone to hold her when she cried, and to talk to about her parents. Her father's family had all passed on, but her mother's sister was still around and so she and her husband were awarded the rights to Lindsey.

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