{Mature for language, sexuality in teens and underage drinking}
Emma had been dating the same guy for two years before Miranda Bray stole him - the same Miranda Bray who is president-of-every-club, a complete fake and cruel to everyone to steps in her way. Even though Emma isn't sure how it happened, she isn't happy. And she wants him back. Her plan of attack? Turn into that girl that every boy wants, even if it means ruining her perfect image along the way.



“Can you girls tell me how this all started?” Ms. Prettyman looks at Ruby and I with her bird-esque eyes. There is something so unbearable about that woman. I think it’s partially her scent. She smells like air freshener, and not even the good kind, it’s the kind you find in drugstore bathrooms. I could also not like her because she’s basically interrogating me like she’s some sort of cop.

“How what started?” Ruby asks innocently, but she has that stupid gleam in her eye like she’s just getting started. Ms. Prettyman stares at us where we’re looking prim and like our boobs aren’t out of our shirts. We don’t want to look like we’ve done anything wrong. In some ways, I know I haven’t. Ruby is a different story. I still have enough heart to not have said anything about her. After all, Chelsea says sluts have even bigger hearts because we need something to fill our boobs. If anyone else said it I would’ve smacked them, but Chelsea means it. Even if it makes no sense.

“This.” Ms.Prettyman gestures to us. I lean back in my ugly burgundy chair and look at myself.

“I don’t see anything wrong,” I reply.

“I don’t understand. What started?” Ruby leans forward to scratch her ankle, before snapping back up and realizing giving full view of her boobs will not help anything.

“Girls, your wardrobe choices are completely inappropriate for a school environment,” Ms. Prettyman tells us, attempting to take control. She’s about eighty years old on a good day, though, so no one listens to her. Old women are supposed to be sweet grandmothers and retired. “I don’t know how else to put it.”

“Can I let you in on a little secret, Ms. PM?” Ruby asks and looks at her, using that nickname we made up what feels like forever ago. “Times have changed.”


“I’m not finished,” Ruby snaps, her face not changing from its neutral state. “People don’t wear long dresses anymore. We like skin. And cleavage. We’re not in the thirties.”

“Oh, dear.” Ms. Prettyman says under her breath and turns her face away from us. She smooths out the top of her white bun and takes a deep breath. “I just don’t understand why you need to wear such provocative clothes.”

“Apparently someone hasn’t seen the Victoria’s Secret runway show,” Ruby says to me, like we’re friends or something.

I don’t reply so Ruby looks back at Ms. Prettyman. “Listen, PM. If you’re just going to tell us ‘young-folk’ should dress like how you did or something a billion years ago, I’m going to leave. I really don’t need the your-body-is-a-temple talk from my principal.”

“I just want to know why you’re wearing the wardrobe you are.” Ms. Prettyman knits her fingers in on each other. “Especially you, Miss Banks. I expected more.”

“Wearing different clothes doesn’t mean my personality is any different,” I say coldly and she gives me a disapproving glance.

“Can I at least know why you both are wearing these clothes? I’ve heard rumors about what has been going on between you two and it’s quite a feud.”

“A lady never believes gossip,” Ruby says and folds her arms.

“So it’s all a lie? The arguments, the boys, the personality changes, the meeting with boys under bleachers are all false. None of it is true. Is that what you’re telling me?” Ms. Prettyman stares Ruby down, expecting another bitchy response from her. Instead, it comes from me.

“Not all of it. The rumors are a little different from what actually went down,” I say and Ruby glares at me, her velvet-red lips pursed in annoyance.

“Would you like to tell me the real story?” Ms. Prettyman asks and leans forward to hear me.

I glance at Ruby and give her a look. Ruby glares at me and her eyes practically scream to not say another word, but good girls don’t keep secrets. I should know this better than anyone.

“I would love to you,” I say, but not to Ms. Prettyman. I stare right at Ruby as I say the words and she looks like she just might choke me.

She probably should, since I’m about to get myself into more trouble than this entire situation is worth.


The End

1 comment about this story Feed