The classroom door slams open with the rough tumble of edge only brought upon by teenage girls. It lets in a drafty winter breeze, which the other students grumble at before quickly quieting down when they realize who’s arrived. You look up from your hidden corner by the window, undisturbed by the presence of these forces of nature. Bryce blazes in, the other girls quick to follow at her heels. Always hauntingly picture-perfect, as if they had stepped straight out of a collection of vintage photographs.
They’re old-money girls, girls trained like royalty, created out of pearls and cashmere and crushing expectations. You can’t even count all the warnings you’ve been told about them.
Girls like them are sharks. They lie dormant just waiting for you to slip up so they can drag you down. No, best you stay low–keep your head down. Don’t draw attention to yourself; that has never ended up well for girls like you.
Girls like them are lions. All they care about is status and power. You mustn’t let them confine you to their schemes, for they’d sooner stab you in the back than let you surpass them.
Girls like them are scorpions. They may seem small and meek, but they are always tensed with poison, and nothing will ever stop them from stinging you if the opportunity occurs. You can keep them at arms bay all you want but they can lunge onto you faster than you can blink.
No, now you understand. These girls may have teeth and claws and venom, but they are girls nonetheless. Manon drags a chair up to your side, dropping her head onto your shoulder with an exaggerated sigh but there is nothing false about it. Alodie laughs as she pulls on your braid, brushing your bangs off your forehead and tucking them behind your ears in a way that makes your fond heart pang.
“Hi dear,” Tasmin coos. “Look what I’ve got!” From her bag, she pulls out an envelope; you recognize the sliver sheen of cardstock. Around her, the girls gasp, surprised and delighted. It’s warming to know that she waited for you to show everyone.
Alodie squeals, beaming. “Did you open it yet? Hurry, what does it say? Who is it from?”
“No, no, I wanted to open it together- hold on!” You pull Manon back from where she’d made a lazy swipe at the card, and she digs her sharp, polished nails into your arm. Hardly a lion, you think as she presses her lips against the crescent indents with a smirk.
Tasmin fumbles with the Yule card, eager to read the smitten message gifted to her by one of her many admirers. It’s all a big joke, these girls rack up Yule cards like it’s loose change, but the excitement at receiving one is real each time. Tasmin hands you the peppermint stick tied to the card, lips pulled tight at suppressing her toothy smile.
You grin, sticking it into your mouth as Tasmin pulls open the card. Bryce, who sits the closest, reads over her shoulder.
Spencer, who stands behind you places cold fingers under your jaw. Your head is tilted upwards, and all you catch is a glimpse of dark honey irises and cat-eye liner before she’s bitten the peppermint clean in half. Your head spins, but when you reorient yourself, Bryce is staring daggers at the card. Tasmin tosses her head back, laughs.
“What bullshit,” she says, rolling her eyes. She tears the card clean down the center, and then again, and again. You watch her fingers tap hurriedly against her skirt, the middle and index finger outstretched. She wants a smoke, you realize as her exhale shakes and cuts off messily.
Spencer steps to the side, arms looped around your neck and chin tucked into your hair. She drags your chair along with her.
Next to you, Manon bends down to reach for her bottle, and Alodie leans back, flipping her glossed hair over a shoulder.
You only realize what they’ve done when Tasmin sits up a bit straighter, deepens her voice a bit lower. The rest of the students in the class glance over, drawn to the sudden tension and get a full view of Tasmin ripping the silver card into eight shredded pieces.
“What a coward,” she says, staring at Bryce. “How could he do that?” You catch the twitch of her lips before silent fat rolling tears start dripping down her sharp face.
Bryce loops her arms around Tasmin, bringing the other girl down into a hug. “He’s a fucking jerk. Don’t listen to him, he’s no good.”
Manon nods, pressing her water bottle to Tasmin’s hand. “He’s disgusting, a creep. I always knew something was wrong with him.”
Alodie is next. “I’m so sorry, Tasmin. You don’t deserve to be hurt like that. We-,” her voice catches “we should have done something.”
Bryce nods, staring mournfully at Tasmin’s thick curls. Her eyes flick up, reel it in, they say.
Spencer sighs. “I should have done something. When I first saw him give you the card today, I should have known something was off. I saw him laughing with his friends afterward, I can’t believe they were so malicious with it.”
Alodie leans forward, Spencer pushes your chair closer to the table. Immediately, it’s like a switch has been flicked. Now that your backs are to them, you have all faded into the background. You might still be sitting at the table, but the rest of the students don’t really see you anymore. Buzzing whispers behind hands and soft looks shot to Tasmin’s huddled form. That’s good, you understand. Pity is never desired, it takes away from a girl’s respect.
The rumor mill is alight with news about the vicious card sent to lovely Tasmin this morning. They’ll easily track the person down when the entire school is searching for him.
Alodie’s grin reveals sharp, pointed canines. Manon’s laugh is throaty and guttural. Bryce smiles smugly, eyes hooded with delight and satisfaction. You shudder, knowing that by the end of the week, that boy will be better off dead.
There’s a corner of the card peeking out from Tasmin’s fist. You scan it unconsciously, reading words like ‘manipulat-’ and ‘aslighter’ and ‘cheating bit-’.
Spencer hums. “Alright, love?” You look up, she cups your cheek casually. Her pupils blown with delight, yours blown with the spectacle of such effortless cruelty.
We’re girls, you think. Of course we protect our own.
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