Biatch from Hell.

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Matilda's white Porsche screeched to a halt as we reached the Car-Park of the Hotel. A massive crowd was swarming in front of the entrance, Girls in masquerade in magnificent costumes, big beautiful ball-gowns. Boys in sophisticated suits, it felt like a debutante ball ala Gossip Girl rather than a shitty Halloween disco.

"God, Catholic schools just love to take anything that could be a great, gritty fucking mess. Bleed the fun out of it and make it a big, boring formal shit-fest." Matilda announced, agitated to the rest of the Eagles. We never expected the dance to be this y'know "Grown up."

As Fetus Freshmen we dreamed of surviving all the way to our Senior Year to attend the legendary Halloween dance. It was rumoured to be a night of epic proportions, everyone got piss drunk leading all hell to break loose. Fights broke out leading to broken limbs and bloody noses, Girls would make out with their Best Friends' boyfriend leading to hair pulling and social damnation. Idk if you seen that scene in Mean Girls where Regina is standing there while the entire student body acts like wild animals but that's what we were expecting. Sounded unreal.

But NO because of "BUDGET CUTS" we had to attend St Helena's Dance instead. St Helena's was the neighbouring Catholic Grammar School and when I tell you it was the snobbiest place on earth, it made Cambridge look like a Community College. They looked down at us Eastside folk like we had no functioning brain cells because they assumed that we didn't get the Grades needed to get into their elitist school. WELL they can go eff themselves because I passed their stupid test, got an A and still chose Eastside. So wayyyyy.

Before we could compose ourselves, a bunch of white, skinny blondes who could give the Victoria Secret Angels a run for their money walked past us. Our mouths dropped as they strutted, adorned across their beautiful bodies was the most elegant and extravagant dresses we had ever seen. To simply say they were "stunning" would be the understatement of the century.

One of them turned around to us, a tall strawberry blonde who looked like a long-lost Hadid sister. The girl sniggered and blatantly rolled her eyes at us. Uh, alright...someone has a stick up their ass. But I wasn't going to say anything, little things like that I don't let it effect me because well, I'm too scared to stand up for myself. But, this did not sit well with Matilda and she was well and truly ready to stand up for herself.

Matilda shot up like a sunflower seed exposed to an ultralight beam and spun  the snobby biatch quickly around. "Excuse me?" Matilda exclaimed in anguish, no one- and I mean NO ONE dares throw shade at her, picks a fight and makes it out alive.

"Oh I'm sorry... Did I roll my eyes out loud?" The pretty St. Helena's student retorted back, she sounded like a chipmunk. Her gaggle of friends laughed to back her up and make the comment sting even more. It was like putting salt on a wound for Matilda, and as her eyebrows furrowed the laughter slowly started to fade away. They were scared and they had every right to be.

Matilda moved forward to the clique, standing tall with her hand placed firmly on her hips. "Before you dare try and judge me please keep in mind your probably a piece of shit too."
Matilda narrowed her eyes. "You can judge me when you're perfect."
She bluntly stated, ready to simply move on and just attend the dance but the Blonde was having none of it.

"Im a Size 2, Head Cheerleader, Student Body President, Future Valedictorian and Harvard Alumni. I'm the richest bitch in the Tri-State Area, i've been in  121 Pageants and won 89 including Miss Teen America so I think its suffice to say I'm BEAUTIFUL and therefore fucking perfect." The absolutely stunning St.Helena's girl clapped back, she was totally not questioning my sexuality by the way...I don't know why you would think that...uh entonces.

Matilda was MAD, we are that tight by just one look I can completely read her emotions, this bitch was ready to kill through the power of sarcasm and rapier wit.

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