Dakota was pissed.
She had been living in this stupid, shitty town for almost three months now. And in that time, Dakota had made a meager amount of acquaintances and even a few friends. But none of them held a candle to Jean-Claude Moreau, the sexy French son of a pastry chef who lived downtown. He was smart, he was funny, he was so passionate about what he did... and, most importantly, Jean-Claude was hot! Dakota had spent practically all her time sniffing around him; visiting him at La Bonne Boulangerie, trying to catch his eye at the grocery store, and even trying to steal a dance at that stupid party hosted by that gawdawful radio station—all in vain!
But finally, finally, after almost months of being content in sighing dreamily in his presence, Dakota had decided to go up and talk to him. Better yet, to ask him out, and what did he say?
"Oh, I am... very embarrassed. But I, um... how you say... taken."
Dakota screamed into her pillow at the top of her lungs, muffling her primal roars with the fluffy white padding so that no one could hear her. It just wasn't fair! She had spent all this time pining over him, wishing and yearning for a chance. And when she had finally cowgirled up and took the plunge, she hit concrete!
Dakota rolled over dramatically, her throat sore from the sudden eruption of volume as she breathed brokenly to her empty room. Her eyes were watery and her chest heaved as she fought back tears. She was just so emotional right now; having moved halfway across the stupid country because her stupid dad had a stupid job that made her move to a stupid city where she met stupid, stupid Jean-Claude...
If only there was something she could do about it...
And suddenly, at that thought, Dakota paused her tantrum. She eased her breathing as much as she could, and stared at the ceiling as that thought flowed through her. Was there something she could do? Something that could even the odds and claim what was rightfully hers—even if he didn't know it yet? Dakota's eyes dried slowly as she lay there, in silence.
She had been reading through the Liponomicon the night before last, and it still lay in the drawer of her bedside table. It was silly—she knew that—but there was a small voice in the back of her mind, deep and dark, that told her otherwise.
She should have Jean-Claude—or at least have a chance. She had been through so much in the past few months, it was only right that she get a chance at some real happiness. With a little... unorthodox procedure... Dakota could very well have her wish.
Assuming it was real, anyway...
She wiped her eyes of any remaining tears, and opened the drawer. With both hands, she tore the book from the inside of her table and sat up on her bed, legs crossed to support the heavy weight of the tome. She had dog-eared a few pages for various reasons—interesting premises, illustrations, and the like—that had quickly become her favorites. Though she had pawed through most of the book, Dakota had found that certain incantations and spells... excited her.
The Liponomicon's various incantations often called for raw emotion as an energy source, if the various annotations were any indication. The book seemed to grow warm in her hands, as if coming back to life after a long sleep.
Slowly, a steeling voice in the back of her mind told her what she had to do.
If she wanted a chance at Jean-Claude she had to get rid of the competition, his girlfriend—
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