Alice Queen of Hearts

One

Jo.

Jo got into a fight, and she would never admit it.

Josie Elliot Maywood was one of the richest girls that lived in Tumble. Tumble was a humble yet fulfilling little village. And in its littleness... Jo was known. Bery known. And she was very proud of it. Everyday, before walking out the door, she'd say her prayers, like the lovely little girl she was. Young children begged to be in her company. She threw around candy and complements like a storybook fary. Adults beamed at her when she walked pass, a quaint grin on her face, and teenagers called her a goody-two-shoes. And she was proud of it.

Jo was proud of many things, really. She was proud when she heard people refer to her as "tender-hearted", or "kind", or "selfless." She was proud when she caught a glimpse of her honey-gold locks in a window. She was proud when she bought something that no other fourteen year old girl could ever dream of buying. She was proud. Perhaps a bit too proud.

Luckily for her, however, she was also smart. She knew that if she showed any of the things to the public, she'd be written off as a snob. She would no longer be called "selfless"; she'd be called "vain", "stuck-up", and "naive." And so, she kept her pride well hidden. She knew that, perhaps, she was selfish, but she never made an effort to change. After all, it was part of her personality and it was what made her unique, wasn't it? It was like her dirty little secrets were harming anyone. Frankly, Jo didnt think here "selfishness" even mattered in the slightest. Jo always reasoned that she couldn't "change how I am, I can only hide it."

Which was why she made every effort to hide her fight with Walter Ackinson.

Walter was one of the poorer ones. He lived in a home with sooty fingerprints on the walls. Water had to be brought in by him and his brothers, in rickety buckets
that were falling apart. He didn't often wear shoes outside and he played in the mud when he wasn't helping at the farm. He was also a boy. A very rude, perverse boy. And Jo never liked him. In fact, she hated him so much, she didn't even bother plastering on a fake smile when passing him, and only did so when people were around. When she was alone with him, she's roll her eyes at him and scoff at everything he said.

Which of course, only provoked him further.

Earlier that evening, Jo had been stopped whilst picking a bouquet of flowers for her darling mother. Jo wanted the bouquet to be perfect and free of any sooty fingerprints that may come from one particular person.

"Hey there, pretty."
Jo stopped. She turned around at the ignorant farm boy and glared at Walter. "What do you want, you mutt." She spat.
Walter merely smirked at her, amused. "Darlin', what do you want? 'm happy to offer!"
Jo spluttered. He gave one of his ridiculous chortles which only made Jo's blood boil.
"And what do you mean by that?" The delicate bouquet now crushed, quivering under her angry grip.
"Aw, pretty, don't play innocent wiv me." He said, condescendingly. He shoved his hands in his pockets "Lay it out, babe."
"Don't call me babe." Jo closed her eyes, counting to three to try and reign in her anger. She lifted the corners of her mouth into a cold smile.
"What do you mean "lay it out", Walter?"
"How many boys have you slept with?"

Jo's lungs stopped working and she felt the anger colour her cheeks an unflattering shade of purple. She spluttered– violently fanning herself with clenched fists –trying to come up with a witty retort, or at least a denial, but her voice didn't work. All the while, Walter was jeering at her, laughing his awful laugh. He openly pointed and clapped like a fool. Which only made her more and more angry.
And so, with her voice still not working she did the next best thing.

She slapped him.