B. Davis

Brooke had decided that this morning required junk food. Because when you thought you were your double's twin and leaving the nunnery to start a new life, only to come down with a rare tropical disease and nearly be killed by your sister in order for her to steal your identity only to abandon it to marry her cheating boyfriend who only wanted her for the family diamond mine, and then woke up after a friend of yours had a heart attack and died at your bedside, and returned in time to ruin the wedding only to recover from the amnesia you've had for years and reveal that your sister was actually a daughter you gave up for adoption, well, that called for cookie dough.

Which was why she was heading downstairs to go into town and get some.


[For one, though open if you need to talk to either of them.]

Brooke didn't have classes today, so she'd decided to sleep in. After all, with all the sunbathing, boys, talking with friends, drinking, time in the room, more sunbathing, even more drinking, shopping, radio, getting to know her fellow students (and teachers) by being friendly, more drinking, getting to know her bedmate, deciding she had some questions for a squirrel and introducing a certain Peter to a few certain Brooke Davissy beach activities, she was a little exhausted. Also, detoxing.

So it was a while before she pulled herself out of bed to get up, shower and get dressed, intending to hit the common room for some breakfast that didn't involve tequila or anything resembling pineapple. When she went to put on her shoes, though, thinking that indoors meant she could still wear something strappy, she was surprised when one tried to hop away from her.

( cut for shoejinx )


[Hi, that was the linkdrop from hell. Establishy!]

Brooke woke up later than she'd planned, and only because her phone was ringing. After debating for a moment, she picked it up, figuring that she'd just have to listen to it otherwise. "Hello?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I'm sorry, I thought this was Brooke," Peyton said finally.

"This is Brooke. Who's this?"

"...Peyton. You don't sound like Brooke," said the wrong curly-haired blonde best friend.

What the hell? "Trust me, I sound like me. How did you get this number?"

"My phone," Peyton said slowly. "Look, sorry, I guess the lines got crossed or something."

"Guess so," Brooke said. "Sorry." When she hung up, it occurred to her that this wasn't even her phone. Huh.


[Establishy, unless the roomie wants to ping in. Brooke Davis is now Brooke McQueen from Popular. Whee, excuse to mainline!]