I went to one of the hottest high schools in Malibu. Money being no issue, glamorous attire was a must. Life there was superficial as all hell.
Lucky for me, I was the queen bee. Higher in the food chain than any of my colleagues. With a raised eyebrow I could ruin any of them.
Everyone wanted to be me, my friends constantly bickered for my attention. Just for a splash of the limelight I was born into. My secret? I was a SoCal ten, which is like a real world twelve.
That is before the accident.
A drunk truck driver swiped the side of my convertible while I was cruising down the coast. I was thrown from the car and took a tumble down the cliffside. I was out of school for weeks.
The doctors said it was a miracle that I didn’t break any bones. That I was lucky there was only superficial damage.
And despite the surgeries and skin grafts, I was left a mutilated mess. My face seriously looked like Michael Jackson got attacked by a cougar.
On my first day back at Seaside High I was met with a cold shoulder. None of my friends visited me while I was recovering and it seemed like they wanted nothing to do with me now. I was like a total pariah.
To go from the public eye to being snickered at in the hallway, was literally the worst. I wanted to strangle every last one of those BITCHES daring to forget who I was. But I played it cool and went to work planning my revenge.
I made the first few attacks look like accidents. Bethany slipped on a waxed floor, shattering her teeth and biting off her tongue. Katy S. opened her locker and her textbooks fell, fracturing her skull. And Katy F. was brutally beaten in the school parking lot by some townies I hired downtown.
But I knew that people were already suspicious. So I decided to go wholesale with the whole vengeance thing.
My grandpa fought some war in Korea and I remember him telling me he killed Chinese people with this stuff called white phosphorus, apparently it like burns you really bad and has to be cut out of your body.
Like I said, money was was no issue. I ordered a few bags to my house from some chemistry supply site. And a simple trip to Pinterest showed me how to make homemade glitter bombs.
I walked into fourth period history with a secret underneath my Burberry trench. And I’m glad I sprung for the two-day shipping because the cops showed up to class and totally put me on the spot. Some fogey named Detective Diaz had found me out and was trying to get me to do a walk of shame in front of everyone in class. All of my so-called friends were watching and I definitely couldn’t give them another reason to laugh like the jackals they totally were.
I unzipped my coat, exposing the DIY chemical weapon duct taped to my pink Gucci sleeveless tee. It was time for those backstabbers to LOOK as ugly as they acted.
Detective Diaz pulled his gun and I didn’t think twice about slapping my palm onto the makeshift trigger on my chest.
White chunks and thick powder exploded throughout the room. Students threw their hands over their faces. Screaming came from all directions. Even the police rolled around in agony.
I looked down to see a hole in my clothes and a white chunk the size of a quarter slowly sinking into my stomach. I pushed through the pain without so much as a squeal. Though my eyes burned and blurred, the only tears that escaped were those of joy. A comfortable feeling rolled through my body.
For a brief moment I was the queen bee again. They feared me up till detective Diaz put a bullet between my eyes.