Frankly My Dear, All's Fair in Love and War

11: The Many Facets of Mean Girls

A/n:
Thank you very much for your support in my story! Here's an appearance of a new character, Tracy. If you watch Election, you must know where I get the references.
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Tracy

I won't say that Cassandra Bellington is my bestfriend, because I don't go to school to make friends.

But she is surely close to one.

Cassandra and I met when we were in freshmen, the only two girls in our homeroom class that didn't find a partner for a silly group-project.

She comes from a wealthy family, like most students in this rich-only school do. But she's different. She doesn't  pursue attention and the popularity game didn't seem to interest her one bit.

That time, I know that being a scholarship student in a place exclusively for privileged kids, my standing is constantly on a rocky boat. So I become closely acquainted with Cassandra. It was both benefial for us. I could provide her new information. She could provide me the slightest bit of protection, and maybe a place in a good company after both of us graduate.

Until one day, the dumb blonde one from the Elites asked her to be his tutor, and Cassandra totally forgot her place.

She went into the Elite party one day, and the next day, she started crying everyday inside the girls's restrooms. Then, we almost didn't talk for three full months because she was too busy dieting and exchanging whispers from the pretty bimbos under Tyra's tyranny.

Am I jealous? Well, I'm not the one fucking up her grades just so that some rich kid notices me. I'm not the one who fucks up my metabolism and my food just because I can buy more skimpy clothes to fit on. I'm definitely not the one jumping the hoops those popular kids set up so that I can call myself one of Them.

I'm perfectly happy in my place.

It's just a weird feeling. One day, Cassandra comes to school, and... people just.. stare at her. Not in a mocking way, no. Not even in a perplexed way. They stare at her in awe. Amazement. Lust. Desire.

They stare at her the way they stare at the Elites.

And in that moment, I think I know what drove Cassandra to do what she did.

I understand.

But I still can't begin to let myself want that.

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Calling Tristan a mess was an understatement.

His anger wasn't the kind that manifested in explosions of tantrums. He didn't scream or curse or even try to pick a fight. In fact, Cassie saw Tristan helped the lady janitor pulled out a big plastic bag out from the trash can, smiling to her afterwards and bidding her goodbye politely.

But she could see his knuckles turning white. The subtle veins popping around his temples, the menacing edge on his lips.

Tristan was angry, and his brand of anger was the kind that might bring catastrophe.

"Are you okay? Do you want to punch someone? Something to smoke? Snort some coke?"

Despite Cassie's attempt at rhyming, Tristan didn't budge. He walked her to her first class in complete silence. All the way, she could feel eyes gazing on their backs, and whispers starting to spread. Her little venture to the Elite's table must have circulated, and the fact that she was the first girl to hold hands with Tristan Arrington fueled the matter.

"Have lunch with me today," Tristan said before he dropped her off in front of her class. He lingered for a while, as if deciding whether to kiss her or not, but then he just gave her a weak smile and patted her on the head once. "Yup."