"Oh, look at that," Brooke laughed. "False toughness. I mean, it's cute that you think you have the toughness of a homeless person who can survive the coldest of winters, but the fact is that you have the strength of Kleenex in a thunderstorm. Stop trying to be someone you're not, Alisa."

Brooke set the handbag down and waved over Penelope, who offered her a small bottle of icy cold water. Brooke accepted it and took a dainty sip. She indicated that Alisa should get one as well and continued, "But at least now we're aware that on some level, you do crave my approval. After all, even sarcasm comes from a place of truth. But here's the thing. Shopping where I shop? Infiltrating the society I've always been a part of? Sure, you can be some lame designer impostor version of me, but you'll never be the real thing. Why not quit while you're woefully behind and try to carve out another place in the world for yourself? It'll save you a lot of pain and the rest of us a lot of headaches."

Brooke stepped away, then, ready to head on to the jewelry displays. "Accept that no one's ever going to accept you, Alisa. Maybe then your streak of bad luck will end and everyone you've ever met won't try to leave you or kill you. It would save you a lot of heartache."