Vicky took a spot right beside the girl and leaned forward with her elbows on the greasy table like she had called together a business meeting.
“So, Janice,” she began, tossing her silken brown hair over her shoulder. Part of it whipped the girl in the face. “Since you are new here, we’ve decided to stage a bit of an intervention. You know that it’s important to make friends. You must also know how crucial it is to not commit social suicide.”
The girl cringed. She knew what was coming.
“Social suicide?” Janice asked, eyeing the girl briefly.
“Yes. For example, it would suck if you were to become friends with someone like Ellie Watt. She’s a freak, with parents who are actual criminals, and she’d probably steal your lunch money out from under your nose. She also needs to wear a better bra. Talk about a cow.”
The girl swallowed hard, trying to shove down more than just saliva. Anger was flaring inside her chest and she was so afraid she’d either flip out—something that was long overdue—or start crying. The latter was something she did enough of.
There was a hush that fell over the table, punctuated by a few snickers and giggles from the bitches. But Janice didn’t look too unfazed.
“I don’t really look at a girl’s bra when I’m trying to be friends with her,” Janice said. “I’m not a lesbian.”
One of the girls snorted loudly and Vicky looked shocked. “Lesbian? I’m not a lesbian.”
Janice shrugged and took a bite of her burger. “It wouldn’t bother me if you were.”
Vicky narrowed her eyes at her, unsure what to make of the newcomer. She might have even been impressed. Perhaps intimidated. Eventually, appearances won out and she plastered a fake smile on her face.
“Well that’s good,” Vicky said sweetly. “Though the only person who should be a lesbian is Ellie here.”
The girl finally looked up at Vicky, utterly perplexed at this newest insult.
“What?” she asked.
Vicky gave her a dry look. “Well it’s no secret that you’re having sex with Camden the Queen. And he might as well be a woman.”
The girl was outraged, red hot heat flushing her face. The most she and Camden had ever experienced was that one kiss. “I am not having sex with him!”
“Yeah right,” said one of the girls. “You’re totally boning him. He’s your boyfriend.”
She looked over at Janice who only raised her eyebrows in curiosity.
“I am not and he’s not my boyfriend!”
“Sure, sure,” Vicky said with a laugh. “You guys are inseparable. Like total fuck buddies. You know, sometimes I think you’re not as much of a loser freak as I thought and then I see you drooling after that she-man like he was made of chocolate. Makes everyone sick.”
The girl pushed her fries away from her, shaking her head, choking with frustration.
“You’re mad. You’re all mad. He’s just a friend.”
“A friend you’re in love with,” Vicky teased menacingly. “The only reason we’re even talking to you today is because he’s not here. If you want some real friends in this town, like us, like Janice here, you better keep that in mind.”
“I am not in love with him,” the girl said through grinding teeth.
“Oh yeah, prove it,” Vicky said. She nudged the girl on her shoulder and she followed her line of sight. Camden had just entered the cafeteria, apparently back at school for the day, and was walking down the center of it. He hadn’t spotted the girl because he would have never looked at the tables at the front of the room. He was heading for the back where the losers and freaks sat.
“Prove it,” Vicky egged her on. “Tell everyone that he’s not your boyfriend. Tell him that. Because he seems to think it. And everyone else does too.”
The girl watched Camden as he walked by, as if in slow motion. His shiny pants and knee-high patent leather boots, Freddy Kruger shirt, and his dog-collared neck with spikes. His trench coat floated around him like a swirl of crows, his limp hair held back with a rubber band that came with bananas you bought at the store. His eyes were lined with slick blue liner and his lips were painted purple for a change.
Why the hell do you have to be such a freak, Camden? the girl thought bitterly to herself. She was filled with anger that it was his fault now that she was an outcast. She could never help her flaws but he just flaunted his. He liked pissing people off. He liked being the martyr. And he wanted to bring her down with him.
“Do it,” she said. “Or are you just as pathetic as he is?”
Before she knew what was happening, the girl found herself getting to her feet. She found herself yelling Camden’s name.
He stopped and was stunned to see her surrounded by their worst enemies.