mean girls

x. first soccer match of the year

"Checkmate."

Camila looks up and sees Harold's blue eyes shining, his lips pursed in his typical smile that is never wide and never shows his teeth. He's always reminded her of a night bird, quiet and watchful. She smiles back.

"Well, congratulations." She knocks down her own king. "At least I lasted over half an hour this time."

"You are getting better, Camila," he says, carefully putting the white pieces inside a blue velvet bag. "You were a disaster when you first asked me to teach you how to play."

She starts dropping the black pieces in the green bag. "I should've practiced in the summer. At this rate, we'll graduate before I win a game against you."

"I don't think you can win against me," he says, placing everything in the box with methodical gestures. Camila shakes her head, not taking offense. Harold is seldom conceited, just sincere. "I do believe you can improve enough to become a challenge."

She beams at him, moving around the picnic table to help him up. The boy has a limp and Camila still doesn't know the story behind it. They don't talk much.

"Same time next week?" he asks, fixing his old-fashioned glasses, the chess box fitted nicely under his arm.

"Same place." She squeezes his elbow. "Bye, Harold. Thank you."

Camila starts crossing the playground, headed for the school building, but she's intercepted halfway there.

"Are you that threatened by me that you're spending time with the underdogs now?"

Camila jumps, clutching her heart. Unsurprisingly, Lauren is laughing at her.

"What the hell, Jauregui?!" She glues both hands to the strap of her bag to avoid shoving the other girl. She doesn't want to touch her. "Are you following me? Can't I go a peaceful day in this school without having to see you?"

"I ask myself the same question every day," Lauren confides, her tone too dry for Camila to take it as anything other than a taunt. "Didn't expect to see you trying to buy people's votes, Cabello. I'm flattered."

"I don't need to buy people's votes, Jauregui." She searches the contents of her bag and pulls out a flyer for her campaign. "Here, educate yourself."

"I've read this already. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?" Camila coughs at that, embarrassed, but Lauren just walks beside her, concentrated on the flyer. "It's a shame you're such a despicable person, makes it hard to believe you have 'the students' interests at heart'."

Camila rolls her eyes. "You don't know me at all-"

"Nor do I want to," Lauren interrupts.

"-and to answer your initial question," Camila carries on, glaring at her, "Harold has been teaching me how to play chess since last year. Who he votes for doesn't matter to me."

"Why would you want to learn how to play chess?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't," Lauren replies, too quickly. Camila stares at her, one eyebrow arching up. "I was just curious. My dad taught me how to play when I was a kid."

"What an uplifting childhood story," Camila sneers, snatching the flyer from her hands so as not to waste resources. "Can you crawl back to the hipster hell you popped out from? I have things to do, people to see."

"Yeah, I heard you were creating a song for the drama kids. Is that so you can have nice background music for the campaign video we have to present in homeroom next week?" Lauren cackles. "Desperate much, Bows?"