THE WRONG KIND OF TROUBLE

CHAPTER 16

"Come here you slut," her grip on my arm tightened. She hauled me forward forcefully. Wes and Liz trailed behind us while Paula was doing her best to block my two friends' way so they wouldn't catch up.

She dragged me along the corridors, ignoring my cries. A few tried to help, but the moment Jennifer shot them a glare, they immediately backed off.

Jennifer was practically untouchable in Brentwood High. Everyone feared her, and honestly, I understood why. She was mean, self‑centered, and had a talent for making everyone feel two inches tall. On top of that, her parents were both lawyers. Not just regular lawyers, but the kind who could twist a story until the truth begged for mercy. If Jennifer wanted to ruin someone, her family could handle the paperwork.

And as if that wasn’t enough, her grandfather sat on the Board of Education. One word from her could turn anyone’s high school life into a walking nightmare. Around here, crossing Jennifer felt like signing your own academic death certificate.

If I remember correctly, back in our very first year of junior high, she showed up wearing the most glamorous French-designed red dress. It ended about two inches above her knees and had white ruffles along the edges. Rose-red accents ran along the sides, creating the illusion of flames.

There she went, sashaying through the lobby, flipping her long, wavy hair, eyes thick with eyeliner, and cheeks smothered in blush. Practically the only thing natural about her was her glossy, pinkish lips.

Anyways, as all eyes were on her, someone stole the attention she was currently getting. Somewhere far on the spot adjacent to where she was standing, another girl showed up. Her hair was super straight, as if it were ironed perfectly. She had light makeup on but still looked extremely gorgeous, and both of them were wearing the same dress that day.

And that was the last time she was seen at Brentwood High. There had also been rumors that spread for months after she disappeared. Some said the girl had been traumatized so badly that she couldn’t even go back to school and had wasted away inside her bedroom. Whatever Jennifer did to her, nobody wanted to know.

Better her than them. As they kept on saying.

Since then, Jennifer became queen. The queen. The evil Queen of Brentwood. The Regina George outside the movies. Some would even say she could be worse than Regina George.

I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized the evil Queen was dragging me towards the girls' bathroom. She hauled me inside, closed the door, and locked it afterwards. I could hear muffled noises from outside the bathroom. Wes was knocking on the door, screaming to let me out.

"You're trash," I managed to stare deeply into her eyes, raging with hate. Her mascara smudged all over her face. I gulped upon seeing her filled with hate, and I didn't even know what I did this time. Her teeth gritted, and I could literally sense her anger. She slapped my cheek one more time-- harder than earlier, stinging my entire face.

I've always wondered why Jennifer hated me. We were never friends to start with, but the way she treats me is just plain ridiculous.

Besides, looking at it in one way, I should be the one loathing her. She did, in fact, stole my boyfriend. Er.. Ex-boyfriend.

This is not good for my baby. I thought. I wrapped my arms around my tummy, shielding my baby from whatever it is she might do.

In one swift motion, she yanked me by the hair, dragging me toward an open cubicle. I swallowed hard, trying to catch a breath, but it felt like it got stuck in my chest, pressing down on my heart.

She shoved my head forward, forcing me to face the toilet bowl. My knees hit the floor as she bent me down, her hand still gripping a fistful of my hair.

She cackled, a sound so sharp and unhinged that my stomach dropped. And in that horrifying, suspended moment, I realized with absolute certainty… she had gone completely bananas.

She shoved my head toward the swirling water in the toilet bowl. It was a classic high school bullying, the oldest trick in the book.

My stomach twisted, and my hands trembled on the cold floor, but somehow my brain couldn’t stop cataloging the absurdity of it all.

Here I was, a junior high survivor, kneeling in front of a toilet while Jennifer laughed like she owned the world.

I wanted to scream, to shove her off me, but the combination of shock, fear, and disbelief kept me frozen. The water spun lazily in the bowl, mocking me, while Jennifer’s cackles echoed off the bathroom walls.

This was insane. Absolutely bananas. And yet, in a weird, horrifying way, it was also classic Jennifer.

"You deserve this, you b***h!" she hissed, jerking my head closer to the swirling toilet water of doom. I dug my hands into the sides of the bowl, forcing my head back as much as I could. My free hand reached for Jennifer, but she shoved it away before I could grab her.

"Jennifer, stop! What did I do to you?!" I cried, deliberately adding a tremble to my voice, hoping she might take pity. But who was I kidding? This was Jennifer. Meteors could crash onto the planet, and she still wouldn’t understand the meaning of mercy.

I was even this close to screaming that I was pregnant in the hopes that she'd grow a golden heart and gain some empathy.

I closed my eyes, praying to God and all the saints to save me from drowning in toilet bowl water. My baby, I thought.

"That's enough," a familiar voice called out. It sounded lazy, almost slack, but carried a surprising force. A sharp gasp followed, and then a loud slap rang through my ears. I felt Jennifer’s grip on my hair loosen, just enough for me to breathe.

I opened my eyes and turned my head with a gaze as wide as a frisbee. Jennifer's face went red.

Somebody slapped her. Somebody slapped the queen.

My mouth gasped as I watched Jennifer move away from me and slowly face towards him.

Jennifer pressed her hand against her cheek, tears welling up in her eyes again. I completely lost my strength and sank to the bathroom floor. It was a good thing the tiles were freshly cleaned; otherwise, I would have ended up sitting on something slimy. I wrapped my arms around my stomach, whispering to my baby in my mind.

Wes, Liz, Paula, and a few others slipped in through the bathroom door. They were watching the whole drama unfold, murmuring words that were a little too complicated for me to catch.

"Why did you do that?" Jennifer scorned. I was very much surprised to see him. Everyone was.

He strode toward me, ignoring the sobbing evil queen still reeling from her own drama. He extended his hand, and I took it hesitantly, staring into his sleepy, lazy eyes. He helped me to my feet. I almost lost my balance, but he caught me by the waist, steadying me without a word.

Wes, with Liz close behind, rushed over to us, while Paula went to Jennifer’s side.

Jennifer’s eyebrows drew together in a deep frown as she glared at us. Meanwhile, he guided my arm over his shoulder, his other hand gently holding my wrist. The cafeteria seemed to freeze. Everyone, including Jennifer, looked utterly stunned by his sudden gesture.

Did crows just turn white? Had Babylon reappeared on the map? Had Atlantis resurfaced? Was this the end of the world?

He was King Tom, after all.