"This is what she had become."
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Cleopatra Banks' last week in the small town of New Chelsea is nothing like she would have imagined it, but nothing could have prepared her for the stinging betrayal she's faced with and suddenly the prospect of...
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Prom has been cancelled and Buttercup seemed way too smug about the whole thing when he informed us early this morning during hall assembly.
We didn't meet the required mark as a grade and the frustrating thing is that we only missed the mark by a mere 0.65%. No amount of begging and whining would get him to relent.
It wasn't good enough.
"I just don't get it," I start again for about the umpteenth time since lunch began. "How could that idiot do something like this? I have heels that I was planning on wearing and he's just going to take all of that away from us? What right does he have to make such a decision?" I whine to my boyfriend who doesn't seem too bothered by the whole thing.
I kick his foot from underneath the table.
"Ow!" he yelps, furrowing his eyebrows. "Have you even heard a single word I've said today?" I ask.
"Baby, why are you making such a big deal out of this? Principal Regan was going to do this whether we made the cut or not," he says "That's just how he is, don't get yourself worked up over this."
I shoot daggers at Ethan but just before I can give him a further and more detailed explanation of why Buttercup can't go ahead with his diabolic plan of sapping what little happiness the school had left (if it ever had any), Natasha comes with a tray of food and plops her smaller frame next to me.
Ethan mutters something inaudible under his breath and barely acknowledges her. She simply ignores him and focuses all her attention on me.
"So," she starts off, pulling out her cell phone and a stack of papers from seemingly nowhere and places them on top of the table.
"These are all the details you'll be needing for the Spring festival taking place at the end of next month, there are scheduled times for your fitting, the photoshoot, practice runs, all the FAQs since you're new to all of this and I've already taken the liberty of signing you up on every social media platform so we can spread the word--"
"Whoa, stop right there. Did I just hear you say social media?" I stop her midway through her little explanation. She seems confused by my question.
"Duh. How else will we get people from school to know about this?" she asks. I feel a slight tinge of anger bubbling up from within me at how all of this means nothing to her. There's a reason I deleted all my accounts, I don't want to go down that road again. Social media can be a very dark place.
"Natasha, you can't just do something like that without my permission. Delete all of them!" I raise my voice a little higher. She doesn't seem perturbed at all.
"Calm down it's not like I'm using your real name or anything I'm just borrowing Isabella's name for a little bit. I did my research and people here actually want to know what you're doing with your life," she says with a shrug of her shoulder.
