Keira

t w o

Venomous. Fanged. Double edged. Keira pretended to be cold so that she could hide every bit of emotion left inside that hollow shell of her's.

Her eyes haughtily skimmed the crowd, knowing full well that she was superior to any other student at Westlake Preparatory.

Westlake had no bad boy- just a bad girl- Keira. Everyone knew everything about her life, from the way she partied all night and slept all day, did reckless things, how she broke countless laws, hearts, bottles, and personal items, solely through whispered rumors. Did they know any of these things to be true? Not necessarily. Did everyone believe it? Hell yes.

Maia, her ditzy, brunette friend, or rather, temporary social climber friend, rattled on about some stupid boy from a stupid band that she was currently obsessed with. Keira knew better than to jump into the conversation. People never talked to her unless they wanted something. Maia would be no different.

Keira supposed she let her stay simply because she was lonely.

Keira heard a shuffling of feet to the right of her. Who dared to invade her space? She was the ruling queen of this school, the badass who had no emotion, and left a trail of sobbing children in her wake. Nobody messed with Keira. Everyone knew better than that.

"What's with the glare?" The voice came from a stranger, someone that Keira didn't know. He sported the classic nice guy look- a band tee, flannel shirt, and jeans rolled at the ankles, hovering above worn converse high tops- a typical nobody from among the throng of people that made up her empire.

Keira was caught off guard, but she quickly recovered, a sharp look and pursed lips readied with a nasty retort ready to fire as her defense.

Keira opened her mouth to speak but the stranger had left. She studied his walk. It wasn't one of retreat, rather, one radiating confidence and indifference. She scowled. That was her walk.