Kimberly Konquers 2 WIP

2: you're not really losing a pumpkin-you're gaining an enemy

A group of five fashionistas stood in front of Kimberly in a tight huddle, glaring down at her by the light of their phones. They looked as miserable to be out here as Franklin did, scratching and swatting at anything that crawled near.

The way they huddled together reminded Franklin of a herd of zebra from some animal show he'd seen, each trying to minimize their exposure to Nature's predators—which in this place just meant killer bugs. Even so, Franklin sympathized. He wished he could huddle with them, but he was afraid they'd start smacking him instead.

At the head of the herd stood the leader, gazing down at Kimberly with obvious contempt. Immediately, Franklin was struck by the odd resemblance between the two girls. They both had the same pointed chins and fine features, they both held the same bossy pose—but all the little similarities just made the differences even louder, because everything else gave him the impression that this girl was a filtered version of Kimberly: she'd had all her originality strained out.

And that's not the only thing that's strained, Franklin thought, she looks like she hasn't eaten in a week. He looked up from her bony arms to the straight chutes of her brown hair and her sour-looking pout.

She smirked at Kimberly, and even in the dim light he could see that she wore a massive amount of makeup; something made even more noticeable by the fact that Kimberly didn't.

Kimberly treated imperfection like a badge of honor—each freckle, each scar made you unique. This girl looked like the living incarnation of a teen beauty mag. What was really underneath the Clinique, no one could tell, which was exactly the way she wanted it. All traces of uniqueness and imperfection traded for a generic glaze. A real-life photoshop, that made her look like a very beautiful... copy.

Kimberly could look like that if she wanted to, Franklin realized. Would that be a good thing?

For the first time in his life, he felt a splinter of doubt in his belief that normal was better.

She smirked down at Kimberly with obvious contempt.

Kimberly rose to stand head-to-head with this new challenger. Her eyes locked onto the brunette and stayed there. She didn't blink.

On the outside, Kimberly looked calm—almost too calm. But Franklin knew her better than that by now. Even from this distance, he could read the wild intensity that pooled behind her eyes. She seethed with an inner fury, and the stare she leveled at this intruder would've made a King Cobra back down. Suddenly, this new girl wasn't so sure of herself.

Her smug smile disappeared. She looked back to her entourage for support. That restored a bit of her attitude, and she dared again to meet Kimberly's piercing gaze.

She was either brave—or very, very stupid.

Franklin hiked his way over to Kimberly, casting a quick glance down at the pumpkins as he passed. He wished he could just sink down into the itchy grass and disappear until this fresh drama had ended. Wake him up after Halloween—after all the holidays actually. They were more trouble than they were worth. He felt his legs get heavier with every step. The holidays just filled him with dread. Every year. He didn't even know what this one was about. Druids? Monster Mashing? A cynical bid by candy companies to push their product?

Finally, he made it next to Kimberly and stood quietly by her side, lost in his own seasonal depression. Franklin thought that was an appropriate amount of solidarity.

"I think you've got my pumpkin there, Pilgrim," Kimberly stated lightly, careful to keep the threat out of everything but her eyes.

"Your pumpkin?" the new girl demanded. She stared at Kimberly like she didn't know what to make of her. "Who are you?"