Anabelle Anderson doesn't just want revenge. She wants an entire revolution.
* * *
When 17-year-old Ana returns to her hometown for senior year, she vows to crush the powerful and dangerous clique that exiled her. Armed with a disguise and a step...
"You could be so beautiful," the devil whispered in my ear.
Sienna came up behind me in the cafeteria line, her sweet perfume making my nose tickle as she reached out to run her fingers through my thick, dark blonde hair.
"I mean it, Ana," she told me, her blue eyes wide and innocent. "Let me help you."
It felt as though my heart had stopped beating in my chest. Sienna had never used a tone so sweet or so kind. Not when addressing me, at least.
"You know, I feel awful." She moved closer, her breath cool on my skin. "Poppy's fun, but she can be a little much sometimes. I should have told her that pouring yogurt in your locker was a bad idea."
"That was Poppy's idea?" I asked, recalling the day before when I had opened my locker, only to be greeted with the sight (and smell) of a deconstructed açaí bowl saturating my books and stationery. Right before the Elites had poured the rest of it all over me.
Sienna bobbed her head up and down as she tucked my hair behind my ears. "Of course. I didn't think it would get so out of control. I thought we'd all have a bit of a laugh. I thought, maybe, you'd throw some back at us, and maybe we'd cause such a mess that we'd all be sent home early from school. Win-win..."
She broke my gaze to study my hair, then my face. She looked me up and down, moving closer to take my face in her dainty hands.
"Really, Ana," she cooed, her voice a mere whisper like a feather dancing on the wind. "You could be so hot. You just need a little help."
Two more of Sienna's crew joined us, and I felt all eyes in the cafeteria land on me. On little Ana Banana, surrounded by the most beautiful girls in school. But there was only one set of eyes that I searched for.
I flickered my gaze to Nate Alderidge, who had slunk over to us from the front of the lunch line. Trays in hand, both his and Sienna's, he watched us with a curious sparkle gleaming in his deep blue eyes.
"Isn't her hair beautiful, baby?" Sienna asked him. She grabbed my hair once again, harder that time, and pulled it forcefully off my face. "And look at those cheekbones! Hello,ScarJo!"
Her friends erupted into a chorus of laughter, and it took me less than a second to realize that she was mocking me.
"Those lips!" another of Sienna's friends exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She took something from her purse and lurched in my direction. I edged my head away quickly, but not before she had smeared bright red lipstick comically across my mouth and chin.
"Her eyes," another cried. "Hidden! A crime." She tore off my glasses, causing the world around me to turn into a blurry, swirling mess of undefined shapes and colors.
"You guys are forgetting the best part," Poppy said, putting her arms on my shoulders and spinning me around. "Check out the booty." She smacked me hard on my behind, then cocked her head with a sly smirk. "I'm sure my mother's surgeon could fix that jiggle."
I snatched back my glasses and pushed Poppy away, retreating from her as she squeezed the air mockingly with her hands. But my retreat was futile; I only backed right into Sienna's grasp. She laced an arm over my shoulder, cradling me close.
"If we ever broke up," she said in Nate's direction, "Heaven forbid, do you think that you and Ana Banana could give things a go? You'd have my blessing, of course. After all, she is my protégé."
Nate stared at her, seemingly stunned, then moved his eyes to me. I could only imagine how foolish I looked, with my hair flopped over to one side and bright red lipstick smeared over my mouth like a sad Bozo the Clown. I scowled as I tried to tear away from Sienna's persistent grasp, but she only dug her acrylics into my shoulder and pulled me in closer.
"Baby?" she asked Nate, louder and sterner than before.
I peered at the boy across from me, the same one that had been the subject of my affection ever since grammar school. The boy I had hoped and prayed would soon wake up and realize how cruel, how nasty, how truly vile his girlfriend was to everyone that wasn't him.
"Of course not," was his simple reply.
It was as if he had reached out and slapped me right across the face.
Sienna turned back to me, her eyes cold and harsh and her lips upturned into what had become her trademark snarl.
"Of course not," she repeated. "He doesn't date vermin."
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