Chapter Text
“Oh, sweetie-!” June George dabbed the corners of her eyes, despite moisture never leaving her waterline. Regina refrained from rolling her own, instead closing them slowly, wishing the organs would just sink into her skull. She thumbed at the straw of her class of unsweetened cranberry juice; it was the last day of the fast, and she could finally put this bitter drink away.
Three days she spent preparing for today. Three days she spent prepping and preening herself to look her very best, so that she could walk a new hall with newfound confidence and a brand new identity.
The decision wasn’t easy. She had started her senior year at North Shore High trying to keep her head low after the previous events of her disastrous junior year. She lost her friends, her boyfriend, lost her petite frame, lost the functionality of her limbs; it was such a hellish tragedy it could put Shakespeare's writing to shame. Yet despite trying her best to keep to herself for the new school year, she was always being watched.
Some straggling followers of the Queen Bee still copied the mundane clothes she had begun to wear to blend into the wall; if she wore a grey sweater, they would wear a grey sweater. If she wore baggy sweats that faded at the knees, they wore baggy sweats that faded at the knees. It got so bad that when Regina deliberately wore the satanic combination of polka dots and stripes on a Thursday, every consecutive Thursday after that her unsanctioned cult would do the same as if the fashion choice were a blessing by the Greek gods themselves.
Then there were those who she had done wrong. Those who she had scorned over the past three years. Teachers failed her before the assignments were given out, students would shoulder check her in the halls. One student even knocked sour milk onto her clothes during lunch (the unsanctioned cult then followed by spilling food on their own clothes).
She just wanted a brand new start. She wanted to breathe again without feeling like everyone was stealing the same oxygen out of her lungs. She wanted to be her own person, not a hasbeen. She was still the Regina George, but it no longer felt like it. She felt like a shell of what she once was, depleted of energy, confidence, hell, her hair had even lost its platinum sheen. And the eyes…she just needed to get away from them. She no longer wanted to hear the whispers of the past berating her for her fall from grace.
Once upon a time, she had it all. But like Icarus, she had flown much too close to the sun and got scorched by her own power. She could no longer handle the dreadful feelings that followed her at NSH.
So after 44 days, she couldn’t endure any longer, and transferred to a smaller, more…ahem, rural high school. While the process wasn’t the easiest, the decision surely was. Her mother, still fake sobbing at the dining room table, was so heartbroken to see her daughter dispel herself from the school she had graduated from without properly telling her. After all, her daughter was supposed to follow in her footsteps.
“I mean, are you…are you sure?” Her mother’s face was as red as a pimple. “I mean…what about hoco, or…prom queen, or…anything!”
Her mother blew dryly into the tissue, the paper whisking in the forced blow.
Regina sighed loudly, sipping the rest of her drink. She smoothened out her hair still warm from the flat iron, tossing it over her shoulder once, then twice, checking how the sheet of gold moved. She fiddled nervously at her collar, and God, she never fiddled. She never got nervous. This is why she needed a change of pace. To find herself again. To get rid of this icky feeling of tar residing in her stomach, turning her gullet into an empty cavity.
“It’s fine.” Regina said, tossing her hair again.
“It’s so, uh, not fine!” Her mother practically shrieked. Regina refrained from folding her lips in, fearing she would smear the clear gloss she so carefully swiped on earlier. “NSH and Crossland are like…sworn enemies! It’s a matter of life and death!”
“Oh, stop being dramatic. No one cares about that type of stuff anymore.” Regina said, and honestly, she didn’t care about the drama. She couldn’t care less if she tried.
“No, Regina, listen.” June stood in front of her daughter, about ready to pop. Regina’s nose scrunched, another new habit that was bound to form wrinkles on her perfect face.
“Some serious shit used to go down between NSH and CLH.” Her mother spoke of the high school drama as if it were some sort of anxious, religious text. “Like…serious.”
“Like…what?” Regina asked, more so out of sarcasm than actual interest. Whatever wars her mother endured 100 years ago, she wanted no part in it, truly. She had her own battle wounds to lick at.
“Just…promise me…” Her mother, with her severely dry tissue in hand, grasped at Regina’s. Regina squinted her eyes, but sat there, staring at their conjoined hands rather than at her mother. “Promise me you won’t mention North Shore.”
“I won’t.” Regina conceded, her voice almost a whine, another new habit that made her sound weak.
“No, I’m serious.” June gripped tighter, an almost wild look in her eye. “If anyone asks, you were…homeschooled or something. This is serious shit and…it’s already been so hard for you already-”
Regina snatched her hands away, teeth clenched.
“I said I won’t.”
She hated the way her mother looked at her now. As if she were some…helpless thing that couldn’t fend for herself.
As if for the first time in Regina’s 17 years of living, she actually cared for her daughters well being.
Regina had no reason to bring up her reason for transfer, but she knew the question would arise regardless. First, she was a transferring senior and second, it was the middle of the first quarter. It was bound to look weird no matter what, but she refused to regale tales of her time at North Shore. Who knows what rumors would spread, or have already spread to that part of town? It was best to keep those parts of her past to herself.
So when she pulled up to Crossland High in her silver Lexus, buffed and polished until the future shined from the hood, she held her head high. She parked her car in the student lot, surrounded by vehicles that were much more dull in comparison, which she couldn’t help but note.The building was so much smaller in comparison to NSH, only one story instead of the iconic three-story building she was used to, and the brick was battered and chipped, the off-white columns holding the silver awning had aged like molded cheese. She watched as students moved like a mindless wave into the old building, some chatting with people they'd probably known all their school days, while others had their heads down. Some were rushing to do the homework that was due in first-period on the lawn, while others tousled with each other with the prospects of a brawl at hand. An occasional couple locking lips in the most provocative way that made even Regina feel lonely. A typical high school scene, nothing new or unfamiliar.
The only one out of place was Regina.
Then a head turned.
Then another.
Then another.
Regina took a thick swallow. She had prepared for this. She knew this was bound to happen; she was a stranger, the strangest of strange. She smoothened out her black skirt, the black sheer stocking she was wearing beginning to itch at the knees. She laser-focused her vision on the old blue doors that acted as the entrance to the building, and began to strut with as much confidence as she could muster.
Her hair swayed in tandem with her hips like a golden wave as it caught in the sunlight, her skin warmed despite feeling so cold inside. Her heels clicked on the gravel as she passed the people she would be spending the rest of her high school journey with. At first, she thought it better to melt into the crowd, but who knows how she would have been treated if she sulked in? It was best to march in headstrong, as if she had always been a part of the Crossland High ecosystem, as if she already belonged, not as if she were infiltrating some place she wasn’t meant to be.
She turned her nose higher to the sky as stragglers rushed to move out of her way, and the sight stirred something familiar.
Yes, this is what she wanted. Not necessarily fear from her peers, but a sense of respect that she had lost. If she established this now, no one would be able to mess with her. Her feet walked in a familiar rhythm, purse swinging at her side. She yanked her pink satchel up her shoulder that was thick enough to carry the assignments she was sure to be given on her first day, and walked towards the building.
She heard it before she saw it, something almost primal over a chaotic drum beat, like the scream of someone being bludgeoned to death. The unearthly shreds from the nylon strings of a guitar, a melody so bitter Regina could taste it every time she swallowed. She turned towards the sound as it grew louder by the second, and shrieks.
A white van jumps the curb she was on, narrowly missing her body as she flings herself backwards, landing on her butt. The white van blurs past, something bold and brash spray painted messily on the side as it swerves deeper into the student lot.
Regina takes a deep breath, realizing her lungs had paused for a moment, clutching her hand to her chest. Her breathing rags as murmurs fill the street, students watching the sudden commotion. Regina feels something sting the corners of her eyes, as hot as lava as she looks at the faces among the crowd.
But the faces are blurred, etched in dark shadows despite the glaring sun. Yet their eyes bore into her soul, judging her. Watching her. Reading her secrets before she had a chance to lock them away.
She feels as if the earth were closing in on her, boxing her in, restricting her breath. A random hand reaches towards her, but she brushes it out the way, yanking herself into a standing position.
Her legs move before she can properly think about where they are leading her to, and she finds herself being pushed against the bodies of those making their way to class. While everyone knew where their final destination was bound to be, Regina hadn’t been blessed with the same knowledge. She bumped into strangers, knocked books out of hands, and stepped on innocent toes as she clamored through the halls, trying to find a place of seclusion.
Finally, she stumbles into a bathroom, the stench of toilet bowl water and the calcite build up in the sinks silencing the expensive fragrance she had sprayed on her collar bones and wrist. She gripped the wet sink, deliberately breathing through her mouth. She put the back of her wrist to her nose as she slowed her breath, the ringing in her ears subsiding as her heart began to subdue itself back to its usual tempo.
Regina blew a long breath from her lips, a slight whistle ringing through the bathroom. She sniffled; she wasn’t sure if she was upset over her embarrassing fall in front of half the school, or over how pathetic it was to shed tears in a disgusting school bathroom.
She lifted her head, looking at her reflection in the murky mirror. Her hair was disheveled with fly-aways, and her clothes wrinkled. The eyeliner she had on her waterline has smeared from sweat and dew. She dug into her purse, desperate to fix her appearance.
With shaky hands, she fussed over herself, muttering her complaints as she braided her hair down her back. She applied some setting powder, cleaned her eyeliner, and applied more gloss. The bell rang, signaling first-period, and also telling Regina that she was already late on her first day. She huffed, rushing over her appearance, when suddenly, the bathroom door swung open. It hits the wall, causing her to jolt at the sink, knocking over her mascara.
Regina scrambles to the floor, searching for the tube on the moldy floor, as a set of heels clicks in, followed by an annoyed groan.
“I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.” Another girl’s voice said, her words teeming with frustration. Regina looks up, after grabbing the tube, just as the girl’s footsteps stop.
“Who are you?”
Regina could have asked the same question, really, but she was a bit shocked at the girl whose shadow she was crouched in.
Before Regina seemed to be an even blonder, even skinner, and due to the circumstance, an even cleaner version of her. Piercing blue eyes that rivaled her own, and an outfit that seemed to be from another tax bracket. Studded heels to match her studded belt, a pleated skirt with ruffles stopping mid thigh, and a white blouse that puffed at the shoulders.
Regina didn’t think there were any other high fashioned people outside of North Shore.
“Hello?” The blonde said, folding her hairless arms. “Are you deaf?”
“R-Regina.” Regina spoke mindlessly, as she scrambled up. The girl commanded the room and Regina was almost seduced to oblige; only the school's variant of a Plastic would have this much power.
Which meant this girl was the “it” girl here.
“Hm.” The girl says, sizing Regina up in one clean sweep, and for the first time in her life, she felt completely bare despite being fully clothed. “Never seen you before.”
The girl took a step closer, and Regina took a step into the sink.
“Either a dweeb got a major make-over, or,” The girl picked at Regina’s purse, examining it, and Regina snatched it back. The girl looked at Regina, an expression that meant to test her, yet continued her statement. “You’re new.”
Regina scoffed, trying to find her footing in the girl's icy glare. “Only a dweeb would wear a lemon yellow skirt in the fall.” Regina smoothened her own skirt, standing up straighter. The girls were at eye level, noses sharp as they pointed at each other. “Obviously I’m new.”
The girl stood there, seemingly impressed. She clicks her tongue, nodding her head at Regina’s words. “New girls got a bit of bite in her.” The girl swung her blonder hair over her shoulder, an almost daring smile on her lips. “I guess I should expect that from a dog.”
Before Regina could let an insult fly from her dry lips, the girl interjected again.
“I like you.” She says, matter-of-factly, and Regin clamps her mouth shut. The girl juts her hip out. “Where are you from-”
Regina’s mind went blank for a moment, remembering what her mother had warned her about. “I-I’m actually home-”
“I don’t care.” The interrupts again. “Reggie, was it?”
“It’s actually Regina-”
“Follow me.”
The girl grabs Regina’s hand, leading her out of the rank bathroom. Regina’s brows scrunch in protest, yet she still allows herself to be strung along helplessly.
“Um, and you’re taking me, where?” Regina asks, the girl's heels clicking down the empty hall.
“Off camp, duh.” The girl says. “As long as I’m back to pick up that little shit, we should be fine.” The girl whips her head, turning back to Regina, yet still pacing to the exit. “What do you drive?”
Regina ignores her question. “It’s my first day.” She says pointedly.
The girl stops, and in turn, Regina stops behind her. The girl turns around, arms folded, and obviously peeved.
“Oh, don’t tell me you actually planned on going to class?”
“I can’t risk making a bad first impression.” Regina says, mirroring the girl's stance. The girl's eyes roam over Regina one more time, clearly disappointed.
“Don’t worry, you’re already getting there.” She says in a distasteful manner.
“Look, I’m very grateful for your…” Regina pauses, “friendship. But, I’m a senior. I don’t have time for games, or I won’t walk.”
I won’t walk if I don’t survive the year either, Regina thought.
“A transferring senior in the middle of the first quarter, how strange indeed.” The girl squints her eyes. “What was it? Grades?”
“No.” Regina had impeccable grades, despite what most thought.
The girl placed a finger under her chin, obviously in deep thought. “No, no you’re right. A girl like you can get daddy to pay for A’s easy. I do it all the time. You see these windows?” The girl motioned to the hall windows expectantly, as if displaying art at a museum. “Daddy sponsored part of the school's renovation. My great-grandchild will be the valedictorian.”
“Are you going to keep wasting my time or can I go to class?” Regina asked, arms folded.
The girl blew a raspberry, giving Regina a giant thumbs up.
“Booooooo.” The girl berated, then turned on her heels, and strutted down the rest of the hall.
“We’ll meet again, Reggie!” She called, before slamming on the bar door, and walking out the building, the natural light pooling into the school slimming until the door slammed shut, the only light being the humming fluorescents.
Another door, closer to the exit, opens, revealing an adult with a badge around their neck. She was clearly faculty.
“Gahtdammit!” The wide woman shouted, adjusting the glasses slipping down her nose. Her clothes were frumpy, her shape almost perfect round, like a blue cue-ball; her entire wardrobe was blue. Her hair was blue-black and curled with neon blue tips, she wore an oversized blue button down, a large blue skirt that fell like rain, blue-rimmed glasses decorated with blue chains that fell past her ears, and pointed blue shoes that peaked from underneath her skirt like the ears of a rabbit.
The woman ran to the exit, poking her head out the door.
“Heather Hills!” She shouted, her voice carrying down the hall, and causing Regina to jump. “If it were up to me, the dust under your shoes wouldn’t be walking across my stage in the spring!”
Heather Hills. Regina made a mental note.
Regina hears the screech of tires, and a retreating vehicle. The woman huffs, slamming the door back closed. She then turns to Regina, eyes squinted with assertion.
“And what are you doing in my halls?” The woman said, walking up to Regina like a bull ready to charge, frown deep in her brown face. The closer the woman got, Regina realized how short the lady was; almost a whole foot shorter than her. But even with the woman’s stature, her glare did not falter as she looked up at Regina with a fire in her brown eyes.
“I-I’m…” Regina gathered her thoughts, clearing her throat. “I’m Regina. Regina George. Just transferred here today.”
The woman leaned in, squinting her large eyes until they were almost slits, then adjusted her glasses once more.
“Right…right…” The woman said, backing up slightly. “Well, don’t just stand there.”
The woman turned on her heels sharply, and with how quickly the woman was moving, Regina began to grow concerned that the poor lady would twist an ankle.
“Come along. To my office.” The woman clarified, and Regina followed.
“I’m Ms. Birmingham.” The woman said. “The principal. Head honcho.”
Regina nodded, trying to keep up with the woman’s pace. “It’s nice to meet you-”
“Save it.” The woman says, putting her hand out. “I’ve heard about you, Ms. Regina George. Your reputation precedes you.”
Regina’s smile falters a bit. “I guess it’s not so flattering.”
“Hardly.” Ms. Birmingham states. “It’s to my understanding that you’re trying to start over, and I admire that. But a street cat can learn how to retract its claws.”
Regina frowns. “So I’m a cat?”
“The word I want to call you,” Ms. Birmingham says, “I can’t without breaking the school policy-code. Now I will give you the benefit of the doubt, and allow you to have a clean slate despite coming from…that school.”
Regina raised a brow. Ms. Birmingham pushed a curl from her face, huffed, and continued talking, her hand grabbing the door to her office.
“Just know…I will be keeping my eyes on you.” She took her pointer and middle finger and jabbed them at her frames, then dragged them to Regina, who could only stand there. “All four of them.” The woman added. “Capiche?”
With a tight smile, Regina nodded back. “Caposh.”
“Good.” The woman pushed her glasses up again, then trotted into her office. “Now let's get your schedule.”
Regina twirled the end of her braid, then fidgeted with her collar once more.
“Yes ma’am.” She agreed.
The woman halts one more time, turns, then points to Regina’s attire.
“And that skirt is much too short.” Ms. Birmingham grumbled, continuing her walk back into the office. “It looks like a damn lap-napkin.”
Regina blinks, attempting to pull the fabric to her knees, only for it to flounce back up.
So much for a good first impression.