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This may sound hard to believe, but the students of Spooky Academy did in fact have priorities other than prom. Yes, prom was often on their minds. But they still worried about where to eat, what they were wearing, and who to sit with in the cafeteria. And what kind of leader they wanted as they worked through all the bullshit. In the case of Spooky Academy, they needed a strong enough leader to prevent several apocalypses each week. This was why the fight for student council president was so vital.
Vera Oberlin’s posters for her campaign were simply perfect. “Vote for Vera,” they read, “Or Everyone Will Know What You Did.”
Now, did Vera have blackmail on 100% of Spooky Academy students? No. But she DID have blackmail on approximately 62% of Spooky Academy students. And a decent percentage of that percentage was made up of students who she’d spoken to once or twice. Someone who gave TMI while she was in earshot. Someone she overheard washing their hands in the bathroom. Someone Polly told her about over lunch. Everyone had secrets, and there was no way for any one monster to know if they were safe. And thus, everyone would vote for her, just to be sure. This was what made her stand out. She was perhaps the only monster here who would NOT stoop to threats of physical violence. She was practically a saint.
She hung her latest one right over Blobert’s poster. It was cute, of course. Everything Blobert did was cute. But his utter naivete was not what Spooky High needed. He would not know what to do with the power. If anything, Vera was doing him a favor. Valerie, her dear sister, walked by, saw the poster, and high fived her.
“Vee!” she said. “They look great! And the slogan is so punchy.”
Vera smiled. “Thanks, Val. But it’s all a formality. This isn’t going to be much of a competition.”
Valerie glanced past Vera and her eyes widened. “Are you sure about that?”
Vera followed her gaze and froze. There at the end of the hall was Oz, Amira, and Brian (three out of four of Spooky Academy’s most notorious simps). And they were hanging their own posters. Blue posters with bright headlines that made Vera’s already cold blood freeze.
“Vote Vicky Schmidt for Class President!” they said, along with glossy photos of that stitched-up runt’s fake ass smile.
Vera clenched a fist, crushing the tape in her hand. Then she dropped the tape, because that plastic was sharp. After checking to make sure she wasn’t bleeding, she stormed up to the three colorful losers.
She used to be insecure about her height, until she realized she could use it as a weapon. Now, all she had to do was look down on them, and Oz cowered like a baby. Amira crossed her arms, already on the defensive. Brian, the only one she lacked the height advantage on, merely glanced in her direction and continued putting up posters.
“What,” Vera asked slowly, “is the meaning of this?”
“Of what?” Amira asked.
“You know what.”
“No,” Amira said. “I don’t.” Was she seriously smiling right now? How dare she? “What’s up, Vera?”
Vera gestured at the poster. Amira looked at it, looked back at Vera, and laughed. “We’re putting up posters for Vicky’s campaign. What, can you not read it?”
“Amira,” Oz said, shaking violently.
“Shut up,” Amira said. She turned back to Vera. “Is there something we can do for you?”
Vera’s eye twitched. “You’re telling me that… thing thinks that she could beat me?”
Brian yawned. “I mean, she’s more into it because she has ideas about how to improve the school, but like, yeah, beating opponents is part of it.”
She really was. Vicky Schmidt was going to try to beat her. Again.
“You guys do this every year,” Amira said. “Why is your eye twitching?”
“No reason.” Vera closed her eyes and willed them into stillness. This took some effort. She said, “I just thought she would have given up by now. But oh well. I guess this race just got a lot more difficult than I anticipated.”
She opened her eyes to Amira standing as close as she dared, embers at her fingertips. “Listen. You do a lot of terrible shit, and usually I don’t care because you’re hot. But if you do anything to hurt Vicky, I will fucking kill you.”
Vera smirked at that. “Oh, I’m so frightened. Really. I’m quaking in my boots.” Amira wouldn’t do anything. She didn’t have the boldness. “You might as well just take those stupid posters down now and save yourselves the embarrassment. Because—"
Right when it looked like Amira was about to slap her, who had to prance onto the scene but the Frankenstein monster herself, Vicky Schmidt. Her frizzy hair added several inches to her height that she desperately needed. Vera wondered if her obnoxious personality was her way of compensating. Despite the black stitches holding together her dead skin, she looked remarkably put-together. Her preppy clothes were always disgustingly lame (would it kill her to put on a blazer? Or unbutton that collar for once in her life). But the worst part was those eyes. Big, round, and electric blue, sitting above a button nose and cherubic cheeks, they were the perfect predator’s camouflage. If one spent too long staring into those big blue eyes, one would become so mesmerized that Vicky could practically do or say anything. Vera’s eyes had a similar, albeit more violent, effect, but if she intended to petrify someone, she would make it clear. Vicky just flashed those weapons anywhere, at anyone, with no warning.
“Hey guys,” Vicky said. The sweetness in her tone was stickier than the fresh gum underneath her desk in math class. Vera had known the moment she had met this girl that she had a terrible case of Main Character Syndrome.
“How’s the poster stuff going?” Vicky asked. “Do you need help? Oh hi, Vera. Do you like my poster? Zoe made it.”
Right on schedule, Vicky was already attempting her disarming technique. It seemed like she was just making normal conversation, but it was a distraction so she could plot her next move. It was no matter. Vera could see right through her.
“I think it’s—”
Amira cut her off. “Vera’s so excited to be up against you for this. She’s gonna put up a hell of a fight.”
Vicky glanced at Vera. “Oh, I’m sure you are. I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”
Vera was ready to rebut with a real threat, but Brian stepped in front of her, completely blocking her view. “What’s going on, Vicky?”
“There’s a northern woodpecker outside. I can hear it, but I need help finding it so I can get a pic.” On her tiptoes, she locked eyes with Vera over Brian’s shoulder. “You can come too if you want, Vera.”
Vera politely declined the offer. “I’m busy,” she said. What she wanted to say was “I would rather claw my eyeballs out and feed them to my snakes than spend a single second more pretending I don’t want to strangle you,” but there was no reason to be brutal right now. Her point would be clear soon enough.
“Ok,” Vicky said. “I’ll see you around.”
The losers all cheerfully went with her. They just did whatever she said, but it wasn’t out of fear. Vicky got what she wanted and she got it with enthusiasm. Because she asked it, the bullshit task of hunting for a bird picture became something people wanted to do. How did she do it?
Oz glanced back at Vera, and swiftly looked away. Good to know one of them was still afraid of her.
Valerie approached. It almost seemed like she was going to follow Vicky. Vera placed a protective hand on her shoulder, just in case. “So,” Valerie said, “Vicky is your competition once again. Damn. What are you gonna do?”
Vera turned to her sister and smiled. “It’s not a competition. I’m going to win.”
Vera stormed into the first abandoned bathroom stall and kicked the wall until the already large dent gained an additional wound. In the last three days, Vicky Schmidt had passed three background checks, ignored two anonymous threats, and survived one attempted sniping. The last one happened because she bent down to pick up a goddamn pencil. And through it all, she kept smiling and laughing and campaigning. Anyone else who knew Vera had them in their sights didn’t dare act unaffected. She had to have something up her sleeve.
Her phone buzzed. Valerie. She took a deep breath and took the call.
“Hey, Vee,” Valerie said. Vera could faintly hear the sound of the ocean behind her. “How’s the campaign going?”
“Bad,” Vera said. A seagull squawked in her ear. “Where are you?”
Valerie giggled. “Taking care of some business.”
That made Vera smile. “Well, Val, Vicky doesn’t have any dirt. At all.”
“What about the bitcoin mining?”
“Come on, everyone mines fucking bitcoin. It would be weirder if she didn’t. If you have any free time, could you come up with something for me to pin on her?”
Valerie paused, and Vera heard her running, shouting, and the sound of a sword unsheathing. A few clangs and a squelch later, her sister answered, “Sorry about that. I’ll see what I can do when I have free time. My hands are kind of full at the moment.”
“No worries.” Vera sighed. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Of course you will!” Valerie said, her voice almost drowned out by what sounded like a cannon. “Just don’t let her get to you. You’re Vera Oberlin. You’re one of the most boss-ass bitches at this school. And you’re my sister. That counts for something, right?”
Vera laughed.
“Oh, and one more thing,” Valerie said. “If you get questioned by Principal Giant Spider or the cops about pineapple trafficking business, I was at school all day, ok?”
“Ok,” Vera said, and hung up. Right as she was about to open the door, someone else entered. Someone short. In jeans and sneakers.
Vera pressed her ear against the stall door so she could hear exactly what transpired. So when Vicky knocked on the fucking door, Vera heard it. And felt it.
“Vera?” she asked.
Massaging her injured ear, Vera yanked the stall door open. “How did you know I was here?”
“I could hear your voice before I came in,” Vicky said. “And I saw your legs.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Vera asked.
“Could you please stop putting horse heads in my friends’ lockers? It’s really upsetting and fucked up.”
Then she hadn’t even noticed the sniper. Vera made a mental note to fire him.
She leaned close to Vicky, backing her up to the sink. “I’ll stop threatening you when you stop threatening me. Drop out of the race. Right now. I’ll give you a hundred dollars to do it.”
Vicky, still maintaining her calm act, said, “Vera, I’m not scared of you. I actually admire you a lot. In fact, I think you’re better than cheap intimidation. Regardless of who wins, I just want us all to have fun. But,” she said, with no change of tone, “if you try to hurt any of my friends, all bets are off.” She slid out from under Vera and skipped to the empty stall. “Have a nice day!”
Vera stayed there, stricken. Vicky wasn’t scared of her? Maybe she wasn’t yet. But she would be.
Princess Miranda Vanderbilt sat on a luxurious picnic blanket under the rave tree. Across from her sat a Vera whose impatience increased faster than the fear on the faces of their surrounding serfs. The serfs in question quickly feasted on the sandwiches Vera had so diligently prepared for this meeting. Before she could make her pitch, though, Miranda made her watch as she arranged her extensive silverware collection. When she was finally allowed to speak, it all poured out of her with none of the rehearsed decorum she had wanted. She even said “um” once.
“And that is why I need you to tell me everything you know about that ragdoll bitch’s weaknesses so I can win the election and ruin her life,” Vera finished.
Miranda examined her dairy knife. She had been so focused on alphabetizing the tools she never used that Vera wasn’t even sure her airheaded friend had heard a single thing she had said.
Finally, Miranda said, “You make a compelling argument. To be perfectly honest I still haven’t quite gotten the grasp on how this ‘democracy’ works. It seems like a waste of time to me. I see no reason you shouldn’t be allowed to use your natural skills of blackmail to ensure your position. I know I made great use of my talents to keep the treasurer position open for myself.”
Everyone who expressed interest in running for treasurer had had a mysterious run-in with Miranda’s serfs and returned with changed minds. If they returned, of course. Vera and Miranda clashed on a lot of things, but Miranda knew how to get what she wanted, and Vera loved that about her.
“So you’ll help me?” asked Vera. If she had Miranda on her side, that meant she had access to the entire network of serfs, assassins, and knights. Vicky wouldn’t be able to breathe without Vera’s knowledge.
Miranda cleaned her dairy knife and said nothing.
“What’s the matter?” Vera asked. “I’m giving you the opportunity to harm a poor. This is one of your favorite things.”
Miranda… blushed? She said, “Vicky has only ever been kind to me. She’s my costar in the school play, as you know, and she has helped me make great progress in comprehending my part. She defines every word I don’t know on these lovely little index cards. I told her I didn’t need her to do it, because I had serfs to read the script for me. And yet, she wanted to. I think she wanted to flaunt her intelligence, but I cannot blame her for that. If I knew what ‘sesquipedalian’ meant, I would also tell everyone.” She giggled and leaned closer. “I haven’t read that index card yet.”
“Your point?” Vera asked. Beside her, a seahorse plucked the lettuce off his sandwich. Vera hissed at him. He replaced the lettuce.
“My point,” Miranda said, “is that I need Vicky in order to be the best performer I can be. I couldn’t bring myself to willingly hurt her.”
Vera balked at this. “Are you serious?” she asked. “You killed the entire water polo team. You ruined Mr. Slenderman’s life for giving you a bad grade one time. But you can’t hurt some blue nerd who’s already fucking dead? That’s where you draw the line?”
Miranda stabbed the blanket with the dairy knife. “Victoria Schmidt is not just some blue nerd. I could go so far as to say that Vicky is my… friend. Her patience and kindness know no bounds. I forbid you from slandering her name in my presence.”
Someone nearby yelled and they both looked over to see the aforementioned perky blue bitch playing fetch with Scott. She threw the frisbee decently far, and Scott caught it in his mouth. On the way to meet him, Vicky saw a bird fly by, got distracted, and tripped over her own feet. Only she could be competent one moment and pathetic the next. Scott caught her before she hit the grass, but in doing so, he somehow also fell over, sending them both tumbling. As she disentangled her limbs from Scott’s, she saw Miranda and waved.
Miranda waved back and smiled. “You are not to tell anyone this, but one time Vicky and I encountered the Ice Cream Wizard. At her encouragement, I ordered Sugar-Blasted Prince Lips all by myself! It was my first time eating something without my serfs. And I did it because she believed in me. I thought the wizard’s frozen treats would be forever out of my reach, but Vicky doesn’t believe anything is impossible. If you actually managed to ruin her reputation, I would be genuinely surprised.”
Vera watched Vicky carefully. The loser laughed so hard that her eyes lit up gold, and sparks flew out. It was something that occurred when she won at a game, or saw a rare bird species, or even just had mac and cheese for lunch. Vicky was very bad at hiding her emotions. Even now, after Vicky had returned to normal, that image of her light-up eyes stayed in Vera’s mind along with that stupid laugh. She was like a parasite with the way she kept a chokehold on your attention. She was nefarious.
A shot flew out of the trees and landed in Vicky’s spot seconds AFTER she rolled away. That fucking sniper couldn’t hit her picture on a billboard! Vera couldn’t take it much longer. She rose, leaving Miranda to her serfs and spoons.
Damien LaVey stood in the school parking lot next to his car Nancy. It was early in the morning, uncharacteristically early for him. He was fucking around on his phone when Vera approached.
“Damien,” she said. “You might know I’m running for class president.”
“And?” he grunted. “I’m in the middle of a Pokemans fight. Whatever you have to say isn’t nearly as important.”
“Try me.” She yanked his wrist up so he had to look at her. “My opponent is Vicky Schmidt. And I may or may not have evidence that her first order of business were she to win would be to tighten fire safety regulations for the whole school. That means no more arson in the caf. You don’t want that, do you? You want someone who will stand up for student rights. Including the right to do crimes.”
He shook his hand out of her grip and turned his phone off. Good. She had his attention. She continued, “With your support, I’d be a shoo-in. All you have to do is intimidate the other candidates. How much would I have to pay you to wipe the smile off Vicky’s face?”
Nancy rattled to life next to them.
“Come on,” Damien said, and led her across the parking lot. Once they were as far away from the car as they could possibly get, he said, “Hey Vera.”
She nodded for him to continue. She could not stand his theatricality.
He shoved her, shouting, “What the fuck are you on? How stupid do you think I am?”
Vera opened her mouth but he held up a hand.
“Don’t fucking answer that. Vicky Schmidt is an uptight, know-it-all loser, but she’s also one of the raddest people I know. Have you seen fucking her? She’s literally bunch of corpse parts stitched together and powered by lightning! She was BORN metal! If you think I would help sabotage her, you’re a fucking idiot.”
Vera sputtered. “But-”
“Shut the fuck up. This is your third time running and you’re talking like a total noob. It’s embarrassing. You’re embarrassing.”
He marched back to his car, where he helped someone get out from underneath. Lo and behold, the miracle worker was-
Vera facepalmed. It was Vicky. Of course it was Vicky. Her blue sweater was tied around her waist, and her white blouse was covered in soot. Her eyes were thankfully hidden by goggles, and her hair was tied up in a ponytail. It bounced and bobbed in the way only tight curls could. All of Vera’s snakes locked onto her target like she was the tastiest dead mouse in the fridge. And of course Vicky still had that big stupid grin on her face. And of course she let out that stupid laugh made of sunshine.
“Nancy should run like a brand-new car,” she told Damien.
“Fuckin metal!” Damien said. “Vicky, you’re a lifesaver.”
“I’m billing you for the early morning meeting, plus how long it took to actually fix the engine, plus my own transportation. And the fact that I took time off from doing homework for this. Oh! And I’m helping you with your math homework later…” She did some math under her breath. “That amounts to about 50 bucks.”
“50???” Damien nearly blew a gasket.
“It’s worth it for Nancy,” Vicky said. She pet the hood of the car with a possessiveness typically only seen in mafia bosses.
Damien couldn’t argue with that. He forked over the money. “This is only because you’re better than those lame ass mechanics in town.”
“You bet I am.”
The two proceeded to do a very complex handshake, which Damien managed to perform while giving Vera the middle finger with his other hand.
The cafeteria that day was relatively chill. There were only three murders. Vera sat with Polly and Liam, who happily donated their lunches to her snakes. At least, Liam had said he would after he got the perfect shot for Momentgram. Polly, on the other side of the table, set up a line of coke. Neither of them looked up from their activities while Vera talked, which concerned her. Were they even listening to her rant about Vicky?
“She’s so annoying. How has she hypnotized the entire school? My own sister couldn’t pin any dirt on her. Do you know how insane that is? Convincing people Vicky is anything less than perfect is a hard sell for the woman who sold a literal corpse. And I still can’t get her stupid laugh out of my head.”
Polly wiped her nose. “I dunno, Vera. It sounds like you’re the problem.”
Vera said, “And what is that supposed to mean?”
“Polina has a point,” Liam said, “Vicky is just living her life. It’s a cringey, mainstream life with way too many bird species catalogued, but she’s not affected by other people. Meanwhile, all you can do lately is rant about her. You’re obsessed.”
“I am not obsessed,” Vera growled. “She’s a threat to my campaign. I’d be insane to not think about her.”
Polly poured out another line. “Have you talked about anything else all day? You’ve spent an entire week stalking her and hiring other people to stalk her and you’re ranting about how she’s so beautiful and her laugh is so pretty and she’s taking over everyone’s brains. You haven’t even mentioned Blobert. You know, your OTHER opponent.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Vera said.
“No, I do.” Polly raised her sunglasses so she could look at Vera’ face. “You sound like you have a crush.”
Vera would have reached out and flattened Polly’s windpipe, if she had one. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t have a crush on her. She’s not even my type.”
Liam raised his eyebrow slightly, causing her to lock her gaze on him. “What?” she asked.
“What IS your type?” he asked.
Vera grasped for an answer. “Intellect. I need to be able to carry out a conversation.”
“I’m very intelligent,” Polly said, wiggling her eyebrows.
Vera ignored her. “You also have to have money. I’m not going to date someone poor. If it doesn’t make a profit, it’s stupid.”
Polly stuck out her tongue. Vera laughed.
“And finally you have to be charming enough to convince people to do your bidding. Like me.”
“Yes, Vera, we know you’re charming,” Liam said as he finished his post’s caption.
“Exactly. And Vicky fits exactly none of those criteria.”
“Whatever you say, girl…” Polly said, sliding her sunglasses back down.
“Shut up.” Vera stood. “I have to work on my stump speech.”
“And it’s gonna say ‘Vicky’s so hot I love Vicky so muuuch!” Polly cackled. Liam let out a smirk for less than a second.
If Vera didn’t love Polly to death, she would have immediately demanded her on-file scientists found a way to kill ghosts.
After the most intense three weeks of Vera’s life, the Spooky High class of 20XX gathered at the theater to hear the final debate. Onstage stood Vera, Vicky, and Blobert, but Vera was only cared about the blue menace right next to her. Vera had planned to replace Vicky’s note cars with the lyrics to WAP, but she couldn’t find any note cards. Vicky was totally unprepared. Just like that, Vera would swoop in, subdue her prey, and amaze the entire crowd. Once Vicky had been defeated, Blobert would politely step out of the way. She had this in the bag.
Her prey frantically waved at her. Trying to get her attention. Trying to distract her. She looked ahead. She refused to let her enemy win.
“Psst!” Vicky leaned so far onto her podium she was practically climbing on it. Before she could make another insufferable noise, she fell right off it, hitting the stage face first. Vera snorted, which Vicky mistook for an invitation to keep talking.
“I just wanted to say break a leg,” she said. “You’re gonna do great today.”
Vera scowled. “I knew that already.” If anything, Vicky was the one who needed reassuring. She looked like she hadn’t even showered, much less slept. Even when she was back behind her podium, she wouldn’t stop fidgeting. The worst part of it all? She still looked good. She’d perfectly curated that aura that made you want to take care of a wounded animal. God was she good.
Principal Giant Spider introduced them all, and then said that Vicky was going to make a special announcement before they started. Vicky took the mic from him, and everyone clapped. Everyone except Vera.
“Hello everyone,” Vicky said in her deceptively cute voice. “I am so grateful for all the support I’ve gotten. I would never have gotten this far without you.”
Vera yawned. More empty flattery to butter up the masses. No politician had ever done that before.
“Unfortunately,” Vicky said, “love and support does not stop the relentless march of homework. Or the countless obligations that I have to both extracurriculars and my personal life.”
Was she really doing this? They all had other shit. Vicky didn’t get to be the victim because she was the only other person in this school who actually did her homework. What a lame excuse to brag about how popular she was.
“... I have talked it out with my friends and Principal Giant Spider, and have decided that I will be dropping out of the race.”
No.
Absolutely not.
The crowd gasped. Even Blobert was in disbelief.
“I’m so sorry I had to let you all know so close to voting. I didn’t have time to plan a more graceful exit. I know! You are all amazing and I know that whoever you vote for, you will make a good decision. Thank you.”
Then she walked right past Vera and left the stage. Distantly, as though at the end of a tunnel, Vera could hear Principal Giant Spider introducing her. She could hear his shock and the gasps of the audience as she left, as though she were hearing them from a dream. She ran after Vicky regardless.
The blueberry bitch strolled nowhere in particular, watching another goddamn bird. Vera grabbed her by the shoulders and slammed her into a pine.
“Hi Vera,” Vicky said.
“That’s all you have to say?” Vera dug her nails into Vicky’s sweater. It was thicker than it looked. “How can you just walk away like that? You ruined everything!”
“I thought you’d be happy to hear the news,” Vicky said. “You wanted to win, after all.”
Vera was outraged. Vera was furious. Vera was running out of synonyms that accurately described her anger.
“No.” Vera said. “You weren’t supposed to just walk away. You were supposed to experience soul-crushing defeat. You were supposed to hate me. You were supposed to fear me. Why don’t you fear me?”
Vicky put a hand on Vera’s arm. She must have discharged some electricity in the process, because it felt hot, even through the fabric of her blazer. “I didn’t drop out for you,” she said. “I dropped the race because I didn’t have enough time to devote to it.”
“What, because you’re so busy tutoring Miranda and playing fetch with Scott and fixing Damien’s car and being beloved by everyone and being so happy and sweet and gorgeous and having pretty eyes and - Goddammit! Do you have any flaws?”
Vicky blushed. “Well, I would say I have flaws.”
“You liar!” Vera’s pulled her to eye level. “Everyone knows you’d be the perfect class president! You don’t even have to try!”
Vicky’s blush deepened in saturation. She looked at the ground and poked her pointer fingers together. “Wow, Vera, that’s really sweet of you to say.”
Vera had tired of this. It was just another of Vicky’s constant games. She threw Vicky to the ground. If she left now, appearing completely unaffected, maybe she could still win.
“You know,” Vicky said dusting herself off, “for a while I thought you were perfect.”
At that, Vera froze. When she turned, Vicky was intently focused on rolling a blade of grass between her fingers. “What did you just say?”
“You’re so confident. And intelligent. And you don’t let people push you around, ever. When you want something, nothing stops you from getting it. Not even the law. Like, if you carried a sword, I would have perished the first time I met you.”
“You mean I could have gotten rid of you that easily, and I wouldn’t have even had to learn sword fighting to do it?”
“Are you saying you’re gonna get a sword?” Vicky asked. She gazed at Vera as if imagining it, like a deer excited at the thought of being hunted.
“Anyway,” Vera said, snapping Vicky out of it, “I’m only mostly perfect. You only thought I was entirely perfect because you weren’t thinking clearly.”
Vicky nodded. “Exactly. For example, you’re terrifyingly dedicated to capitalism at the expense your own morality, community, and dignity.”
“AND I spent all week obsessing over a total loser who never even planned on winning. So yeah. I’m not perfect. I’m a fucking idiot.”
Vicky scrambled to her feet. The second she took her first step, she tripped again. Against all her better judgement, Vera rushed forward to catch her. Vicky met her eyes with those radiant blue ones once again.
Her miniscule enemy chuckled. “If I’m a loser and you’re an idiot, then what does that make the rest of the student body?”
Vera smirked. “Completely hopeless.”
Vicky grinned. After a pause, she said, “Did you mean what you said about my eyes?”
Vera blanched. “What did I say about your eyes?”
Vicky smiled. “I think yours are pretty too.”
She’d done it. She’d snaked past Vera’s defenses, exactly as Vera knew she would. They had officially crossed the event horizon. Vera was caught in Vicky’s orbit, and nothing would get her out of it. She knew Vera’s weakness now. She had won. The worst part was that Vera couldn’t even be angry. Vicky seized the opportunity created by Vera’s stunned silence to rebalance herself. Vera didn’t even notice until she felt Vicky’s hands slipping into hers.
Vera finally asked, “What did you mean when you said you weren’t scared of me?”
“Well,” Vicky steadied herself. When Vera tried to move her hand, Vicky took it. “I don’t fear you. And I don’t want to. I respect you, not because you could kill me, but because you’re a hard worker and you don’t let anyone get you down. We don’t have to be enemies just because we’re both the smartest people in class. I think we’d be way cooler if we worked together. One thing I always admired about you was your belief that boss-ass bitches should stick together. I’m not necessarily saying I’m a bitch, but...”
“You like me?” Vera asked.
Vicky squeezed her hand. “Maybe. I would love to not be hated by you.”
“I would also like to not be hated by you.” Vera removed her hand from Vicky’s. “All these feelings are giving me a headache. Let’s continue this conversation later. Maybe over drinks. How about noon tomorrow at Catacomb Coffee?”
For once, Vicky was caught off guard. Briefly, ever so briefly, her eyes lit up gold. “Y-yeah. Sure. I’d love that.”
Vera nodded. “I’ll text you the details.”
Vicky surprised Vera with a big, tight hug. Vera didn’t know how to react, so she just awkwardly patted Vicky on the head. Her hair was soft and bouncy.
Despite everything, it was a nice enough moment. Vera still couldn’t believe that she had just essentially asked her worst enemy out on a date, or that her worst enemy was in fact incredibly receptive to the offer. Had this been Vicky’s plan all along?
The sharp sound of applause cut through the forest. Vera pulled away and looked all around, certain some saboteur had caught her in a vulnerable position and had brought an audience. But there was no one there. The applause echoed back from the theater, where Blobert had no doubt wowed everyone with his speech.
“Blobert was the real one to beat,” Vicky said. “I haven’t even won an election once.”
Vera clenched a fist. “I was going to take him out after I defeated you.”
Vicky laughed so much that she cried. She stumbled into Vera’s side, her tiny frame heaving for breath. Her eyes lit up with gold sparks, and Vera’s heart jumped, but that may have been from the electricity. The whole scene was absurd. It was horrible. All of Vera’s plans crumbled right in front of her. She should have been the one receiving the standing ovation. She should have slammed Vicky to the ground, marched over there, and turned Blobert to stone.
But she didn’t.
Against her better judgement, against all logic and reason, she smiled. She laughed. Then she laughed some more. It poured out of her, as if Polly had taken control of her diaphragm. Crying, wheezing, she doubled over. Soon both she and Vicky were on the ground, on top of each other, laughing until their voices gave out.
A patch of grass exploded inches from their heads.
“What the fuck was that?” Vicky asked, clutching Vera’s blazer.
Vera groaned. She would have to end that sniper's life eventually. For now, she held Vicky close and thanked a nonexistent god that he had the shittiest aim in the world.