Chapter 14 #3
The last time Aubrey and Tia went at it, the video made the rounds before the bell even rang for next period.
Half the school watched Aubrey break Tia’s perfect, paid-by-daddy nose in glorious high definition.
The sound of cartilage cracking, the spray of blood, Tia’s scream cutting through the hallway. It was beautiful. Violent. Raw.
Tia still hasn’t forgiven her for that. Judging by the way she’s staring at Aubrey right now, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched, hands already curling into fists, she’s been waiting for another shot. Probably been rehearsing it in her head every night before bed, planning her comeback, her revenge.
And everyone in the cafeteria knows it.
The air is thick with anticipation. People are leaning forward in their seats, eyes glued to the two girls squaring off. This is better than anything happening on their phones. This is live entertainment.
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Aubrey says.
Tia raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, lips curling slowly into a smile that’s all teeth and venom. She looks delighted. Thrilled, even. Someone just handed her a gift wrapped in blood and opportunity.
“Oh look,” she says, dragging the words out slowly, savoring each syllable. “The charity case has something to say.”
The freshman behind Aubrey looks ready to disappear into the floor. Her shoulders slump forward, eyes flicking toward the exit, probably figuring out how quickly she can leave before this gets worse.
Smart kid.
“Why do you do that?” Aubrey asks. “Seriously. Do you wake up in the morning and think about which girl you’re going to try to destroy today, or does it just happen naturally because you’re a miserable bitch?”
A ripple spreads through the cafeteria. Whispers. Low laughs. Someone mutters “oh shit” from the back corner.
Tia’s smile widens, clearly thrilled with the attention. She thrives on it, feeding off the energy, the spotlight, the audience, the power rush of watching people squirm under her perfect manicured heel.
“Are you really asking me that?” Tia laughs. “From someone who crawled back to Eastern High just because her mother preferred her new boyfriend over her own daughter?”
A sharp inhale sweeps through the room. Collective. Audible. The kind of gasp that happens right before someone gets their ass handed to them.
Even from across the cafeteria, I feel it. The shift. The temperature drops about ten degrees. People stop chewing. Stop moving. Someone’s fork clatters against their tray, and it sounds deafening in the sudden silence.
Everyone remembers the last time Tia mentioned Aubrey’s dad. It didn’t go well for her.
Tia wore a patch over her nose for over a month as the bruising changed from purple to green to yellow.
Half the school still has the photo saved on their phones.
For someone as painfully vain as Tia Calloway, who probably checks her reflection every five minutes to ensure her foundation hasn’t creased, it was basically a public humiliation.
And she just went there again.
Ballsy. Fucking stupid. But ballsy.
I lean back in my chair, arms crossed, with a grin spreading wider across my face.
This is about to get bloody.
Nicole and her little group push away from the table suddenly, chairs scraping loud enough to make heads turn. They’re on their feet in seconds, practically tripping over each other in their rush.
They want front-row seats. They rush toward the growing circle near Aubrey and Tia, eyes bright with anticipation. This is Christmas morning for them. Blood and drama wrapped up in a pretty bow.
I stay right where I am, leaning back in my chair with my legs stretched out in front of me. Comfortable. Relaxed. Entertained as hell.
From here I can see everything. The way Tia’s shoulders are pulled back, chin lifted.
She plays confident even though her hands are trembling slightly at her sides.
The way Aubrey’s jaw is set, eyes cold and focused, she is already calculating exactly where she’s going to land the first hit.
The way the crowd is closing in, forming a tight circle, blocking the exits and trapping both girls in the center.
It’s perfect.
Tia tilts her head, acting like she’s not poking a hornet’s nest with a stick.
“You know,” she continues sweetly, voice dripping with false sympathy, “I’m actually impressed you had the nerve to come back here at all.
Your drunk father sure as hell didn’t want you around.
And as for your slutty mother… Well, we all know she’s been too busy to notice you existed in the first place. ”
It’s a low blow—one that hits where it hurts the most. Aubrey can’t choose the family she was born into, just like me. Bad parents shouldn’t define us, but somehow, that’s all people see.
The cafeteria goes silent again. Deathly quiet.
Someone’s phone buzzes. A chair creaks.
Aubrey exhales slowly through her nose. “You really didn’t learn your lesson the first time, did you?”
Tia scoffs, flipping her hair over one shoulder like she’s in a shampoo commercial and not about to get her ass handed to her.
“Oh please. You got lucky once.”
Aubrey smiles. It’s not friendly; it’s the kind that says, “I’m about to ruin your whole damn day, and I’ll enjoy every second of it.”
“I kicked your ass once, Tia,” she says. “I’ll happily do it again.”
Tia laughs, but there’s a slight edge to it now—a crack in her confidence, a tremor she can’t quite hide. Her eyes flicker to the crowd, darting left then right, probably looking for backup or someone to step in and save her from the colossal mistake she just made.
No one moves.
No one even dares to breathe.
“Try it,” Tia says, voice sharp but wavering just enough that everyone can hear the fear underneath.
I grin wider.
Aubrey takes one step forward.
Just one.
Tia flinches hard, jerking back as if Aubrey just swung at her. Her arms come up defensively, eyes widening, and that perfect composure begins to crack right down the middle.
The entire cafeteria erupts in laughter—loud and unrestrained.
It’s the kind of laughter that bounces off walls and sinks into your skin.
People are doubled over, clutching their sides, phones out recording every moment of Tia Calloway’s public humiliation.
Someone whistles. Another person gives a slow clap.
The shift is immediate. Electric. You can feel the power dynamic flip instantly. Tia’s face turns red, then white, then red again.
She wants to say something. You can see it in the way her mouth opens slightly and her eyes flash with barely contained rage. She wants to fire back, reclaim control, and remind everyone who the fuck she is and why they should be afraid.
Tia’s breathing speeds up. Her eyes dart around, searching for someone to stand with her—to remind Aubrey that she’s not untouchable.
No one moves.
Her posse stands there, suddenly fixated on the floor, on their phones, on anything except her face. Not one of them makes eye contact with her.
The humiliation is now taking over. You can see it spreading across her skin like a rash. The way her hands begin to shake. The way her flawless composure starts to fall apart at the edges.
But Tia Calloway doesn’t cry. She doesn’t fall apart in public.
She gets mean.
“You think you’re so fucking special now?” she spits, voice rising with desperation masked as anger. “You’re still trash, Aubrey. You’ll always be trash.”
Aubrey walks toward Tia, and I wonder if she’s really going to hit her. Bells once told me that Aubrey never got over breaking Tia’s nose. But right now? You wouldn’t know it.
Tia’s eyes go wide. The ohhh...fuck, I’m about to die kind of wide.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” she says, backing up. Her voice cracks on the last word and it’s beautiful. Absolutely fucking beautiful.
Aubrey continues walking toward her.
Tia stumbles backward. All that bravado disappears. She’s completely shattered. What remains is just raw, unfiltered fear—the kind that makes you piss yourself in front of three hundred people.
Finally, she pushes past the people beside her. All sharp elbows and panic.
The crowd parts, but not out of respect. Instead, it’s driven by pity and second-hand embarrassment.
And then Tia bolts. She doesn’t even bother to make it look graceful. No silly hair flip. No practiced hip sway she thinks is sexy. She simply turns and runs for the exit with all the dignity of a rat abandoning ship.
Someone laughs—a single snort of disbelief that cuts through the silence.
Then another person breaks, letting out a giggle that turns into a cackle. Then it spreads quickly. Infectious. The whole cafeteria catches it, and there’s no stopping it.
The sound grows louder and louder until it’s deafening, causing the walls to shake. People are doubled over, gasping for air and slapping tables. Someone near the back literally falls off their chair.
Phones are everywhere, a forest of screens capturing every stumble of Tia’s retreat, recording her panic, her humiliation. The exact moment the queen bee became a fucking joke.
“BYE TIA!” someone yells from the far corner.
Tia hits the double doors at full speed. They slam open with a bang that echoes through the chaos. She disappears into the hallway.
The doors swing back and forth, and then back again.
The moment she’s gone the cafeteria fucking erupts.
People jump on tables. A tray of nachos goes flying through the air.
Someone’s chocolate milk splatters against the ceiling.
There’s a kid running laps around the lunch line with his shirt off, shouting at the top of his lungs.
A group of sophomores, who probably have never spoken two words to each other, are hugging, crying, and losing their minds.
It’s total chaos. Beautiful, wild, glorious chaos. The kind that only happens when you see a tyrant fall. When the person who’s caused your suffering for years finally gets what’s coming to them.