Fuck. Bells is going to be so pissed she missed this. She lives for this shit. The drama. The chaos. How Eastern High turns into a cage match the moment someone decides they’ve had enough.
Aubrey looks ready to tear someone apart.
Tia looks ready to try.
For half a second, I think about pulling out my phone, recording it, and sending it to Bells later with a caption that says you missed the main event. But I don’t bother.
This will be everywhere in ten minutes anyway. Eastern High doesn’t keep secrets. Someone’s already got their phone out, perfectly angled to catch whatever bloodshed is about to happen.
The last time Aubrey and Tia went at it, the video made the rounds before the bell even rang for next period. Half the school watched Aubrey break Tia’s perfect, paid-by-daddy nose in glorious high definition. The sound of cartilage cracking, the spray of blood, Tia’s scream cutting through the hallway. It was beautiful. Violent. Raw.
Tia still hasn’t forgiven her for that. Judging by the way she’s staring at Aubrey right now, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, hands already curling into fists, she’s been waiting for another shot. Probably been rehearsing it in her head every night before bed, planning her comeback, her revenge.
And everyone in the cafeteria knows it.
The air is thick with anticipation. People are leaning forward in their seats, eyes glued to the two girls squaring off. This isbetter than anything happening on their phones. This is live entertainment.
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Aubrey says.
Tia raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, lips curling slowly into a smile that’s all teeth and venom. She looks delighted. Thrilled, even. Someone just handed her a gift wrapped in blood and opportunity.
“Oh look,” she says, dragging the words out slowly, savoring each syllable. “The charity case has something to say.”
The freshman behind Aubrey looks ready to disappear into the floor. Her shoulders slump forward, eyes flicking toward the exit, probably figuring out how quickly she can leave before this gets worse.
Smart kid.
“Why do you do that?” Aubrey asks. “Seriously. Do you wake up in the morning and think about which girl you’re going to try to destroy today, or does it just happen naturally because you’re a miserable bitch?”
A ripple spreads through the cafeteria. Whispers. Low laughs. Someone mutters “oh shit” from the back corner.
Tia’s smile widens, clearly thrilled with the attention. She thrives on it, feeding off the energy, the spotlight, the audience, the power rush of watching people squirm under her perfect manicured heel.
“Are you really asking me that?” Tia laughs. “From someone who crawled back to Eastern High just because her mother preferred her new boyfriend over her own daughter?”
A sharp inhale sweeps through the room. Collective. Audible. The kind of gasp that happens right before someone gets their ass handed to them.
Even from across the cafeteria, I feel it. The shift. The temperature drops about ten degrees. People stop chewing. Stopmoving. Someone’s fork clatters against their tray, and it sounds deafening in the sudden silence.
Everyone remembers the last time Tia mentioned Aubrey’s dad. It didn’t go well for her.
Tia wore a patch over her nose for over a month as the bruising changed from purple to green to yellow. Half the school still has the photo saved on their phones. For someone as painfully vain as Tia Calloway, who probably checks her reflection every five minutes to ensure her foundation hasn’t creased, it was basically a public humiliation.
And she just went there again.
Ballsy. Fucking stupid. But ballsy.
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, with a grin spreading wider across my face.
This is about to get bloody.
Nicole and her little group push away from the table suddenly, chairs scraping loud enough to make heads turn. They’re on their feet in seconds, practically tripping over each other in their rush.
They want front-row seats. They rush toward the growing circle near Aubrey and Tia, eyes bright with anticipation. This is Christmas morning for them. Blood and drama wrapped up in a pretty bow.
I stay right where I am, leaning back in my chair with my legs stretched out in front of me. Comfortable. Relaxed. Entertained as hell.
From here I can see everything. The way Tia’s shoulders are pulled back, chin lifted. She plays confident even though her hands are trembling slightly at her sides. The way Aubrey’s jaw is set, eyes cold and focused, she is already calculating exactly where she’s going to land the first hit. The way the crowd is closing in, forming a tight circle, blocking the exits and trapping both girls in the center.
