Trophy Daughter

Chapter 2- Fuck your Bitch

Bitches got fucked. That was a simple, clear rule at high school- yet no bitches seemed to understand. Whether they got fucked fucked, fucked with, fucked up or fucked over- the unspoken school rule was that bitches got fucked. 

Exhibit A in this lovely morning- the crying girl following resident golden boy, Barnabas Dumas. I didn't really think Barnabas was all that, sure he was most of it, but not all that everyone cracked him up to be. 

But it was fun watching him fend off the heartbroken, angry and sometimes- my favourite times- a mixture of both. Today's girl, Belinda Frames, was sadly only the former. Snivelling and with absolutely no shame, her mascara ran down her cheeks like rain on her face. 

"I thought we were more than a fling Barnie" She sobbed, not caring that the entire student body was watching. 

Barnabas' eyebrows furrowed, a scowl forming as soon as he heard the unwelcome nickname. "I told you Belinda, we were just a fling. How many times do I need to say it?" 

A sniffle. "I thought you loved me" 

Did this girl even know Dumas? The man had his finger (and dick) in every pie at this school. Star athlete with several scholarships lined up, A+ average student with high probability of getting valedictorian, son of the county sheriff and head of the student council- he was the pride of McLoughlin High. 

"Well, I don't. And I know you know that- you're just ignoring the facts because you prefer to see your own idealistic views of who I am as a person" 

Ouch. 

Now you might be wondering how this prick and a half became student body president. Two words- Adonis Looks. Well, less of an Adonis and more of a Hades/Ares vibe if ya feel me. 

Thick black locks swept back from the defined planes of his face, piercing green eyes and a body akin to a Michaelangelo's David- he was something to be admired, loved and talked about from afar. The thing was- he knew he was good looking. 

And not in the good way. Some random statistic popped up about how any postered event with his face on it, had a forty percent increase in participants and applications. That just shows you how obsessed my school was with the Golden Barnoldie. 

Once the side show had ended, Dumas left the front field with his tool best friend and left poor, now sniffling, Belinda alone. Her sad little eyes flicked up, zoning in on the one person still there after first period bell had rang. 

New tears sprang to her eyes and I sighed, feeling my femininity get the best of me as my legs walked of their own accord over to her. "I've got some tissues" 

She took them straight away, blowing her nose louder than the school orchestra and I retched into my elbow. Easy gag reflex. 

"Don't you just want to kill him? He's so rude" 

I shrugged, inspecting my nails. "Your fault too. The guy's always been a cunugget" 

"A what?" 

"Cunugget. Cunt nugget" 

She paused, wiping her nose again and looking back at me. "Huh. Nice word" 

"Thanks." 

Belinda stood up, brushing off her jeans and brushing a hand through her short brown curls. She paused as she watched me, unabashedly staring. 

"You're the chick everyone thinks is stupid" 

Huh. Nice to know. 

"That's me"