Chapter Four: Glitter Gets Even
1044 Words
“Okay,” Riley announced, pacing our dorm like a caffeinated villain, “we can’t just sit here and sparkle. We need revenge. Real revenge. Like, write-this-in-the-yearbook level revenge.”
I was still picking glitter out of my bra. “I second that. But maybe not felony level?”
“Somewhere between public embarrassment and poetic justice,” Zara added from her perch on the windowsill, sipping a pink smoothie like she hadn’t just been part of a sparkle m******e.
Riley stopped pacing. Her eyes gleamed. “Operation Payback is officially go. First step? We hit her where it hurts.”
“Her ego?” I guessed.
“Close,” Riley said. “Her image.”
Zara raised a brow. “You’re thinking sabotage.”
“I’m thinking fashion sabotage.”
We all turned to her.
“You’re insane,” I said, fully impressed.
“She’s brilliant,” Zara corrected.
“Thank you,” Riley said with a bow.
---
By the next morning, Operation Payback was in motion.
Step One: Brielle’s closet.
During the “free study” period—aka an hour where half the dorms were just on t****k—Riley “accidentally” swapped Brielle’s new uniform skirt with one a full size too small. Like, circulation-cutting small.
Step Two: The Announcement Hack.
Zara, who secretly ran the dorm’s announcement board (because of course she did), replaced the usual motivational quote with:
> “Confidence is key. Unless you’re Brielle, then maybe double-check your hemline. XO – Blue Team.”
Cue whispers. Cue giggles. Cue Brielle storming down the hall in a skirt she could barely walk in, lips pressed tighter than her waistband.
“You think this is funny?” she hissed at us during lunch, her tray loaded with sad celery sticks.
“I think celery is sad,” I said sweetly.
Riley gave her a dazzling smile. “You look... snatched today. Like, literally.”
Brielle’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t want a war with me.”
“Oh babe,” Riley said, leaning in with a fake pout, “you started the war.”
Brielle turned on her heel and stomped away—well, tried to stomp. The too-tight skirt made it more of a penguin shuffle.
Zara clapped once. “Iconic.”
---
Later that night, we moved to Phase Three: The Ultimate Prank.
Riley sketched it out on a whiteboard she stole from the debate room. “Friday. Pep Rally. She’s doing her solo cheer entrance. We swap the confetti cannon with… a glitter slime bomb.”
“A glitter slime bomb?” I repeated. “Where do you get one of those?”
“t****k DIYs. Don’t question my resources.”
Chase leaned over the board, smirking. “I like it. Just don’t get caught.”
“Oh, we won’t,” Riley said confidently. “We’ve got Ty as distraction, Zara on lookout, me on setup, and Ava…”
She looked at me like a proud schemer. “You’re bait.”
“Of course I am,” I sighed.
“Because you’re the only one who can get under her skin without breaking a sweat,” Zara said.
“She’s obsessed with you,” Riley added.
“Yay,” I said flatly. “My dream.”
---
Friday arrived faster than expected, and with it came Pep Rally Day.
The gym was packed. Music blasted. Students waved pom-poms and wore face paint. The Glams took center court in their matching crimson uniforms, glitter eyeshadow, and enough lip gloss to blind someone at ten feet.
I stood near the side bleachers, heart thumping, watching the confetti cannon get wheeled out.
Ty was already mid-distraction—pretending to be injured by slipping on a pom-pom, dramatically flailing on the floor while Coach Dennings tried to help.
“Go time,” Riley whispered through her earpiece.
Yes. We had earpieces. Don’t ask.
She ducked behind the bleachers, swapped the cannon refill, and gave a thumbs up. Zara nodded from the second floor, perched like a glam gossip sniper.
Now it was my turn.
I walked toward Brielle, holding a water bottle like a peace offering. “Break a leg out there.”
She turned slowly. “Trying to get back on my good side?”
“Do you even have one?”
Her jaw ticked.
“Relax,” I said. “We’re all just here for some… harmless fun.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll regret this little underdog phase, Sinclair.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Then she turned—and took center court.
The music started.
She hit her moves flawlessly—because of course she did. People cheered. Flashlights flickered. She tossed her hair, flipped into a split, and threw her arms up toward the crowd for her big finish.
BOOM.
The cannon went off.
Not with confetti.
With thick, pink, sparkling slime.
It rained down like a sparkly horror movie. It splashed her uniform. Clung to her hair. Slid down her arms.
The gym went dead silent.
Then… someone laughed.
And the dam broke.
Laughter everywhere.
Phones up. Snapchats out. Brielle frozen mid-pose, dripping slime like a very angry cupcake.
Her eyes locked on me.
If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
But all I did was sip from my water bottle and smile.
---
The video hit DormTrolls before we even got back to the dorms.
> “Brielle vs Glitter Slime: Who wore it better?” #QueenOfClumps
“She’s going to murder us,” I said, collapsing on my bed, breathless from adrenaline.
“She’s going to try,” Riley corrected.
Zara dropped onto her beanbag chair. “We’ve officially shifted the power balance.”
Ty entered the room with popcorn and two juice boxes. “That slime was a work of art.”
“And Chase?” Riley asked, smirking.
I blushed. “He called me the ‘evil genius of my dreams.’”
Riley grinned. “Then next phase of Operation Dorm Domination: truth or dare. Tonight. Common room. Invite only.”
“Let’s light it up,” I said, grabbing a marker and writing the invite on the back of a cereal box:
> Truth or Dare. 10pm. Blue Dorm Lounge.
- Writer
