Everything around her blurred into an amalgamation of colours and pointless shapes. She knew what they were. The faded turquoise painted walls that clashed with the strange red shade of the floor, coated with caked in dirt, and twin rows of students that kept to themselves. Some shapes were those of bags or haphazard posters celebrating school pride. None mattered in the slightest.
Carmen had her bag and its contents gripped tight in her white-knuckled grasp. The chipped plastic doors creaked open, their hinges barely capable of tolerating Carmen's excessive force, while she squinted against the bright sunlight. She glanced down the left path to the library, then to the right and chose the former. Dakota and Mary knew that she preferred the library for privacy, and she wanted nothing more than to be alone. Even Ryuka seemed to understand.
If the damned Seikogami hadn't dropped the Futa Note, then this likely wouldn't have happened. Carmen reached into her jostling bag and grabbed the book, almost able to feel its tantalising power seep from the cover. Because of one little thing, she had antagonised possibly the worst person she could have. Mary at least kept to those who outright offended her in some way, albeit that could mean nearly anything.
What made it worse was that 'one little thing' could make it all go away. Less than a single paragraph and she could control everything, let alone Gretchen. She passed one of the few trees that followed the cracked path, offering the blossoming vegetation a brief glimpse. No one paid attention to a maple tree. They just walked by without a second-thought, precisely how Carmen would've liked the rest of her high school life to have gone.
She shook her head with a disdained groan. Dealing with the hand one was dealt was just another part of being successful. If she wasted her time on hindsight, then she'd never get anywhere. The untended stone path came to an end, the weeds and cracks leading into the grass behind the main building. In the early morning sunlight, she spotted the track team practicing before class. They wouldn't bother her.
The honour took folded her legs beneath her and sat against the building. Her enriched rear cushioned her against the dry soil below. It hadn't rained for almost a week, leaving the ground just as fractured as the pavement. The grass and occasional flower wilted under its malnourishment. Carmen withdrew the Futa Note and a pen from her bag, immediately flipping it to the first page.
How many names would another person have written by now? She wondered, glancing at the near-empty, greyish-white page. It didn't matter. There'd only be one more name written in this book for the rest of her life, a name that would remedy her school problems and give her, and dozens of others, a deep-rooted sense of retribution. She wouldn't try to be smart or controlling this time. Gretchen would get exactly what she should.
"H-hi," a small voice whispered just as Carmen's pen touched paper. She shoved the book back into her sack and pulled it close, before checking who it was that might've discovered her, "Can we... can I apologise?" Zoey practically mouthed the words, though her pretty lips hardly moved at all. Like all those openly affiliated with Gretchen, she was stunning at a minimum, though in different ways.
Naturally tanned skin dominated her features and helped her lively, green eyes stand out. Her hair was a dark red, closer to an auburn tone and was cut into a long pixy-cut. It curled into her left-cheek. Carmen had to rear her head back to properly take in the taller student, whose body seemed designed for athleticism. Long legs with powerful quads and thighs, and sleek curves. Her arms were soft to the eye and folded behind her back.
If not for what she had done, Carmen might've enjoyed such a view. Instead, her eyes darkened into a vicious glare that her voice reflected, "No, now fuck off."
"I..." Zoey gulped, shying away as if she were a small dog being reprimanded. She slowly brought her arms around to the front, a familiar wrapped package rested in her hands, undamaged in the slightest. Carmen rushed to her feet and took the gift away, looking it over in disbelief. Even the tag was still in place, "I put it in my locker so Gretchen wouldn't find out."
The athlete turned to leave, offering a half-hearted wave goodbye.
"Wait," Carmen snapped, clinging to the present as if it were a scholarship letter. Zoey stopped and slowly circled around, a look of worry on her face, "Why'd you do it?"
"Because Gretchen told me to," Zoey explained, her voice still as light as air.
"Not that. Why'd you save this?"
"Um," Zoey smiled shyly, "She only said to ruin your stuff... that's for someone else, so..."
Carmen didn't notice her laughter until it had already trailed from her lips, "Clever."
"Th-thanks," Zoey blushed, red peeking through her bronze cheeks. Carmen returned to where she was sat, smiling softly at Melody's present while Zoey hovered anxiously.
"What is it?" Carmen inquired. Nearly every ounce of her earlier fury had retreated from her consciousness, skulking back into the corners of her mind, waiting to be called on again.
"Just... how do you do it? You know, standing up to Gretchen like yesterday," Zoey murmured.
"She's a spoiled bitch, doesn't mean she's the President of the US or anything. Though I don't know who'd be worse right now," Carmen added under her breath, then glanced up as Zoey giggled.
"I think she'd OD before she could be sworn in."
"She does drugs?" Carmen rolled her eyes, "Why am I not surprised?"
"And she drinks," Zoey added, forming a slight smile.
"I almost feel bad for Ms. Blake," Carmen mused, "You can sit down, you know."
"Oh, uh sure," Zoey squatted down beside Carmen, though she kept over a foot between them and hugged her knees to her chest.
"Why aren't you over there?" Carmen nodded to the track team on the field, though calling it such was more out of principle. Any markings that designated as such were long gone. Only a single goal post remained standing, the others having fallen to rust or weather. The track team still enjoyed themselves, laughing almost obnoxiously loud when a member tripped and her shorts ripped. Or that was what Carmen presumed was happening, since she couldn't make them out very clearly from such a distance.
"Gretchen wanted me nearby," Zoey lowered her head to hide it in her knees, as if ashamed to mention the queen bee's name aloud.
"Should've figured," Carmen muttered.
"I'm really sorry," Zoey peeked at the honour student, glancing from the bland, beige wall to her, then the grass and back again.
"It..." Carmen took a deep breath, forcing her arms to stay relaxed, "It's not really your fault. Gretchen made you, after all. How come you let her push you around like that? You should be able to run away if nothing else."
"I can't help it," Zoey divulged, once again lowering her face, "She scares me... everyone does..."
"Then why're you talking to me?" Carmen questioned.
"Dunno," Zoey shrugged, "Guilt?"
Carmen sighed and glanced at her second-hand watch. The seconds arrow stuttered constantly, while the minute hand was always fluctuating between ahead and behind the actual time. She'd grown used to it by then, able to guess the time with a ninety-percent accuracy, "Class is starting soon," she stood up and turned to stare down at Zoey.
"You can't be happy taking crap from people, Zoey," Carmen determined, offering a hand to the limber athlete, "Take it from me. Stick up for yourself, even if it scares you."
Zoey let out a nervous laugh as she took her hand, rising to stand just over the honour student. The athletic student didn't openly admit it, but Carmen could see her pride at being so tall, "Rachel says the same thing."
"Really?"
"Well, she usually adds 'fuck those fucking fucks'... or something."
"Charming," Carmen dryly complimented.
They separated prior to entering the school building. Neither wanted to think about what Gretchen might do if she thought they were friends, though very few people occupied the tattered hallways. Carmen glanced to down the corridor as she came to her class, watching as Zoey hesitantly stepped into the girl's restroom. It was faint, but she heard Gretchen's voice filter through the gently bustling air. She spared a mournful thought for the girl and stepped into the classroom.
Dakota turned in her seat as Carmen sat behind her. She'd changed from her usual desk at the furthest corner in recent weeks at Dakota's behest, though she hardly resisted. Having someone - who wasn't a perverted deity - to distract her from the mundane lessons was strangely pleasant.
"You okay?" Dakota asked, ignoring the teacher as they entered. Most of the students did the same, even those that came in after them. The educator hardly glanced at them, simply reading mindlessly from their textbook.
"Yeah," Carmen exhaled slowly as she tapped her pen against the old and chipped desk, unable to note anything down until she could buy new materials, including the school's textbooks, which didn't come cheap. Hopefully her mother could handle the finances without her humble addition for the next month.
"What about the books?" Dakota continued, glancing at the ordinarily occupied space on Carmen's desk. Without a pad of some kind to inhabit the area, all the gouges and crude drawings on the once finely crafted wood were plain to see.
"I'll make do," Carmen shrugged, "I always do." She spared a grimace for her clothes, particularly her top. It wasn't as bad as the brown sweater from yesterday, but that was far from a compliment. Individual threads could be seen around the neckline, which came dangerously close to revealing the tops of her breasts, and the hem drooped an inch above her skirts end.
"It's a shame you're so curvy," Dakota sighed, "Must be hell finding clothes that'll fit."
Carmen arched a doubtful brow, "Please, I've seen you staring at my chest."
"Can you blame me?" Dakota tilted her head innocently.
"Yeah... you're the one that does it."
"Fine," Dakota sighed and slumped in her chair, folding her leg to idly swing it, "If you need new clothes, I don't mind pitching in."
