Belle, for being a spoiled brat

Belle Beaumont was absolutely livid. Here she was, one of the richest girls at her school, and she couldn't even get what she asked for for her 18th birthday. It wasn't even like she asked for a lot, just a new car.

"I can't believe you screwed this up!" Belle shouted at her parents, "Were you even listening to me?"

"O-Of course we were, dear," her stepmom Bailey said, "I even made sure it was exactly the right model." As a 34 year old who looked 24, the copper-haired woman was the definition of a trophy wife. Not that one could tell just by looking at her, as even with the money at her disposal she tended to dress modestly and never really acted like one of the wealthy elite.

The busty blonde that was her stepdaughter, however, was a different story. A senior in high school, Belle was used to getting what she wanted, both from her wealthy father and from her peers at school. And it didn't show any more clearly than through the temper tantrum she was throwing in the driveway of their luxurious home. And what was it that she was so angry about?

"If you were really listening, then why is the color wrong?" she shouted, "You got it in white! I wanted it in red!"

Bailey shirked back, unsure of what to say. She was never a confrontational woman, and ever since she married Belle's father she had been doing her best to get on Belle's good side. But so far, that wasn't working, especially not today.

"Don't worry, princess," Barry Beaumont, an older gentleman whose own blonde hair was close to being completely white at this point in his life, replied, "I'll take you to the dealership first thing tomorrow morning, and we can convince them to exchange it for one of the right color. And if we can't do that, we'll have it painted over. You won't be able to tell the difference."

Belle pouted, not yelling anymore but still clearly angry, "Fine. I just hope you didn't screw up my birthday dinner as well."

"Only the best for my baby girl," Barry said, kissing his daughter on the forehead, "Your stepmother even spent all day making that chocolate cake you love so much for dessert."

"You mean white chocolate?" Belle asked, looking over at Bailey with a withering glare.

"I... I could have sworn you said dark chocolate..." Bailey stammered.

Belle just rolled her eyes as she followed her dad inside, "Not surprised to hear you screwed that one up too, Bailey. Guess someone's going to have to run out and buy the right kind of cake before the store closes."

Bailey looked to her husband, who simply mouthed 'please' to her. With a defeated sigh, she went to get her car keys.

Bailey was an idiot. A big, stupid idiot. Why did she keep trying so hard to make Belle like her?

She had done her best to act happy as she brought the new cake in, but Belle practically ignored her in favor of talking about what she wanted for her party this weekend. When the subject of what she wanted to serve for the guests came up however, Belle had looked directly at her and said, "Whatever it is, just make sure Bailey doesn't make it. She'll just screw it up again."

Bailey had wanted to scream at the ungrateful brat, to tell her to give her the respect she deserved as her stepmother or she would be grounded for a month. But Bailey was never the confrontational type, and Belle's spoiled demeanor and constant jabs did nothing to help her build the confidence to stand up to her. So instead, she excused herself from the table and went into her bedroom to cry.

Her husband had come up later and tried to console her, saying the same things he always did when Belle upset her: 'she doesn't hate you, she's just not used to having you around yet, she'll come around someday'. But this time, it wasn't enough to stop Bailey's tears. With Belle too intimidating for Bailey to have the nerve to discipline, and her father having spoiled her rotten since his first wife's , it didn't seem like the girl would ever change her mind about her.

As she continued to quietly sob to herself while she tried to fall asleep, Bailey wished that Belle could be taught a lesson about her behavior. She immediately chastised herself for even thinking such vindictive thoughts, but the shooting star that had been flying outside her window heard her wish, and the power within it had already decided it was worth granting. So as Bailey finally managed to sleep, the power of the star combed through the poor woman's dreams and nightmares about Belle, in order to find one that would serve as the perfect way to screw with the teenager's life.