Chapter Text
The smell of acrylic paint was thick in the art room, like someone dumped a whole bucket of it and let it sit there, stinging your nose a little bit. It was the kind of smell that sticks to your clothes and your hair, no matter how much you try to wash it out later. Regina George was standing by the supply table, flipping through a sketchbook like she didn’t have a care in the world. And damn, she looked good, even in that old, paint-splattered smock that would make anyone else look like a total mess. Her hair was perfect, her makeup was on point, and she moved like she owned the whole damn room. You could tell she was used to being the center of attention, the one everyone looked at and wanted to be.
Then the door creaked open, and Janis Ian walked in. The whole room kind of went quiet for a second, well, as quiet as it could be with all the paint cans and brushes lying around. Their eyes locked right away, and you could feel the tension in the air, like a rubber band that was about to snap. Regina’s sharp gaze narrowed a little bit, like she was looking at something dirty that she didn’t want to be near. Janis’s face twisted into this obvious annoyance, like she’d just stepped in dog shit or something. You could tell they hated each other’s guts—like, really hated each other. It was the kind of hate that you can see, that you can almost touch.
Before either of them could say anything, Ms. Miller’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Janis, Regina, you two are leading the mural project together,” she said, all calm and matter-of-fact, like she was just telling them to pass the paint or something.
It was the last thing either of them wanted. Like, seriously the last thing. The room suddenly felt way too small, like it was shrinking around them, and there was nowhere to go. You could see the shock on both their faces, like they couldn’t believe what they just heard.
“WHAT!” Regina yelled, her voice loud and shrill, like she’d just been burned or something. She slammed the sketchbook shut on the table, hard enough to make a few paint tubes rattle. Her eyes were wide, and she looked like she was about to throw a fit, like the spoiled little princess she was.
“HELL NO!” Janis added, just as loud, maybe even louder. She slammed her fist on the table too, and her face was red with anger. She looked like she wanted to punch something—or someone. “There’s no fucking way I’m working with her,” she muttered, under her breath but loud enough for everyone to hear.
Ms. Miller just looked at them, her arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t look impressed—at all. “Look, it’s either you two are going to be partners or you will leave the art club,” she said, her voice firm and serious. There was no arguing with her, you could tell that. She meant what she said.
Regina and Janis just stared at her, like they were trying to see if she was bluffing. But she wasn’t. So Ms. Miller just nodded her head towards a table in the corner. “Anyways, Regina and Janis, you two go to that table to discuss about the mural,” she stated, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And don’t come back until you have a plan.”
Regina huffed, like a little kid who didn’t get her way, and walked over to the table. Janis followed, dragging her feet, like she was being forced to walk through mud or something. They sat down at the assigned table, as far away from each other as they could get, like the other one had a disease or something.
“So, I guess the leader of the plastic bitches now wants to clout chase too, huh?” Janis said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She leaned forward, her eyes narrowed, like she was trying to get under Regina’s skin. And you know what? She probably was.
Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard you thought they might get stuck. “I guess the crackhead emo girl wants to act tough too, huh?” she replied, her voice just as snarky. She leaned forward too, not backing down. “At least I don’t look like I just crawled out of a dumpster, you know?”
“I hate you!” Janis screamed, standing up from her chair. Her face was bright red, and she was shaking with anger. She looked like she was about to jump over the table and attack Regina.
“I hate you too!” Regina yelled back, standing up too. She was just as angry, just as loud. “You’re a total freak, and nobody likes you!”
“Can y’all please stop screaming at each other and start planning? Or else I will kick you two out of the art club right now,” Ms. Miller said, her voice loud and stern. She was standing right behind them, and she looked really mad. Like, really mad.
Regina and Janis both froze, then slowly sat back down. They scoffed at the same time, and rolled their eyes at each other, like it was some kind of stupid game. They crossed their arms over their chests, looking away from each other, like the other one was invisible.
“Okay fine,” Regina said, after a few seconds of silence. She turned to look at Janis, her face still full of attitude. “What’s your plan for the damn mural? And don’t say anything stupid, because I’m not going to let you ruin this for me.”
Janis snorted, crossing her arms tighter over her chest like she was protecting herself from Regina’s stupid, fake vibes. “My plan? Please, like you’d even get it. You’re too busy worrying about your fake hair and fake nails to care about actual art, you dumb bitch.” She leaned back in the chair, kicking her feet up onto the table—right near Regina’s sketchbook, like she was doing it on purpose to annoy her. “I was thinking we do something real, you know? Something that actually means something. Not just a bunch of pretty little flowers or whatever basic shit you’d come up with. Like, maybe something about how this school is full of fake people and how everyone’s too scared to be themselves. Yeah, that’d be perfect—especially since you’re the queen of fake, right?”
Regina’s eyes narrowed, and she swatted Janis’s feet off the table so hard that Janis almost fell out of her chair. “Shut the hell up! You don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy emo freak. Real art? Please, your idea of real art is probably just drawing sad little skulls and crying trees or whatever shit you losers like. That’s not art—that’s just you being a depressing little asshole. And why would I want to make a mural about fake people? That’s just stupid. We should make something that looks good, something that makes people stop and go ‘wow, that’s amazing’. Not something that makes people feel like they need to go cry in a corner, you dumbass.”
Janis laughed, a loud, harsh sound that echoed through the art room. “Oh, so you just want something that looks pretty so you can get all the attention, huh? Typical. You’re such a selfish little bitch. You don’t care about art, you just care about yourself and your stupid popularity. Well, news flash, not everyone gives a shit about that. Some of us actually have feelings and things we want to say, you know?”
“Feelings? Please, you just like to complain about everything because you think it makes you look cool or deep or whatever,” Regina shot back, her voice getting louder and louder. “You’re just a sad little attention seeker who hates everyone because nobody wants to be your friend. And you know what? I don’t blame them. You’re annoying as hell, and you smell like garbage half the time. Why would anyone want to hang out with you?”
Janis’s face turned bright red, and she stood up again, her fists clenched at her sides. “You take that back, you plastic whore! I don’t care about being friends with people like you—people who are fake and mean and only care about themselves. I’d rather be alone than be like you. And at least I’m not a total bitch to everyone I meet. You’re just a horrible person, and everyone knows it. They just pretend to like you because they’re scared of you, you know that?”
“Scared of me? Please, they like me because I’m awesome and I’m fun to be around. Unlike you, who’s just a downer all the time,” Regina said, standing up too, getting right in Janis’s face. “You’re just jealous because you’re not me. You’re jealous because I have friends and I’m popular and I’m pretty. You’re just a sad little loser who’s never going to be anything.”
“Enough!” Ms. Miller yelled, slamming her hand on the table so hard that the paint cans on the shelf above rattled. She marched over to them, her face red with anger. “I told you two to stop screaming and start planning! This is ridiculous! If I hear one more word out of either of you that’s not about the mural, you’re both out of here. Do you understand me? Now sit down and figure this out, or get out of my art room right now!”
Regina and Janis both glared at each other, then slowly sat back down. They didn’t say anything for a few minutes, just sat there, huffing and puffing, looking away from each other like the other one was the most disgusting thing in the world. The air was still thick with tension, and you could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Janis sighed, sounding like she was forcing herself to be calm. “Fine. Whatever. If we have to do this, we have to do this. But I’m not changing my idea. I think we should do something that matters. And if you don’t like it, well, too bad. Because I’m not going to let you turn this into some stupid, shallow piece of shit just so you can show off.”
Regina rolled her eyes, crossing her arms again. “Ugh, fine. But it’s not going to be all sad and depressing like you want. We can do something that matters and looks good. Because if it looks like crap, I’m not putting my name on it. So we need to find a way to make it look nice and have some stupid meaning or whatever. Is that okay with you, you stubborn ass?”
Janis nodded, still looking annoyed. “Yeah, whatever. That’s fine. But I’m in charge of the design part, because you have no taste. You can do the colors or whatever, as long as you don’t make it look like a rainbow threw up on it.”
Regina scoffed. “Please, I have way better taste than you. I’m not going to let you make it look like a dark, gloomy mess. We’ll compromise. I’ll pick the colors, and you can do the design, but only if it looks good. And if it doesn’t, we’re changing it. Deal?”
Janis thought for a second, then stuck out her hand. “Deal. But if you screw this up, I’m going to kill you.”
Regina shook her hand, her grip tight and angry. “Same to you, freak. And don’t even think about trying to take over. I’m not going to let you ruin this for me.”
They let go of each other’s hands and sat back, still looking like they wanted to kill each other. But at least they were talking now, sort of. The art room was still quiet, except for the sound of other students working and the occasional huff or eye roll from Regina or Janis. It was going to be a long, long project, but they were finally starting to figure it out. Sort of.