1. | PRESS PUBLISH
"YOU'RE kidding me, right?"
Miss Brown gave me a look that strongly suggested otherwise.
Actually, I wasn't entirely sure why I'd even said that – of course she wasn't kidding. Miss Brown didn't kid. She had a rather pointy face and bony elbows, and always drank her coffee without milk.
If you're wondering how that correlated with her inability to humour people – it didn't. But dad once said to me that the kind of coffee one drinks is very telling of their character. It was the dumbest thing I'd ever heard in my life, and I'd told him so, but seemed to influence my view of people anyway.
Right now, however, I was far too preoccupied by what she'd just told all of us. Dropping the bomb would be an understatement at this moment. Catastrophic nuclear destruction at a mass-scale was a more fitting way to describe it.
"They can't get rid of us," Kitty murmured hotly beside me, her nails digging sharply into her blue folder. "They just can't."
"They can, and they already have," Miss Brown responded grimly. To others, she may have seemed a touch too nonchalant, under the circumstances, but the slight hunch in her shoulders revealed everything you really needed to know. Miss Brown had given her heart to our Journalism society, the only thing she, and perhaps the rest of us members, looked forward to at the end of a soul-sucking day at school.
"Can't you send the student council an appeal? Or – or send them some of the articles we've written. Elliott's piece on raising awareness for LGBT pupils was brilliant, revolutionary, really—" Jane piped up behind me. I could feel her hand flapping furiously in the air, and the enthusiasm practically leaked out of the slight tremor in her voice. Although Jane and I didn't get along at the best of times, it was nice to know she had my back when it counted.
"Although you did fail to mention LGBT pupils of colour in your article," she added quietly, leaning close to my ear.
Never mind then.
"Believe me when I say I've begged with the student council," Miss Brown sighed, looking down at her shoes. "Cajoled, stomped my feet, sent out e-mails in all caps. I think I may have sworn in one of them, actually." She frowned as she looked back up at us. "Does 'damn' count as a swear word?"
"Why are they getting rid of our society?" I inquired. "Are we too scandalous? Because we could easily tone down on the Marxism." I shot Jane a pointed look. "And that stuff on veganism too."
Jane opened her mouth, obviously ready to spew out vehement objections but Miss Brown raised a foreboding hand.
"We've no time to bicker," she said. "What's done is done. The school did allow us the opportunity," she rolled her eyes at the word, "to print one last journalistic piece for the school by the end of this term. Giving us our last laugh, I suppose. And I'd like for us all to go out on a triumphant note."
Beside me, Kitty already had her pen out and was scribbling furiously on her little pink notepad.
"With all due respect, miss," I said, "you didn't answer my question."
Miss Brown quirked up an eyebrow. I stared right back at her. Intimidation would not work. Not now, when my beloved society was about to dissolve – or had dissolved.
It'd been central to my existence, the reason I breathed, the highlight of my life, the pinnacle of my—alright, so maybe I was being dramatic about it. And who wouldn't, if their dreams were about to be stomped on by a bunch of stuffy teenage bureaucrats. Wow. I was even beginning to sound like Jane. This really was a crisis.
"Ooh, please tell us miss!" Daniel cried from across the room, his face already red and puffy. We'd all affectionately nicknamed him Waterworks, although it was hardly the kind of tactic Miss Brown had patience for. She must've been really upset today because her face seemed to soften just so at the sight of his blubbering.
"I...suppose you all have the right to know." She clasped her hands together. "The council felt that Grand Ridge Academy is...lacking in some of its departments. Like the drama department, for example. I was told that there were...er, insufficiencies in its funding and our society was partly to blame." Miss Brown pursed her lips so tightly together it looked as though she had just sucked on a particularly sour lemon. "I believe they said we were a 'strain on the school's financial resources'. And so, we had to go. For the benefit of the drama department."
"Bullshit," I burst out, and the following words rushed out so quickly Miss Brown didn't have time to berate me for foul language. "It is a well known fact that Grand Ridge has one of the best-funded drama departments across the entire city. It says so on the school website! They're so well-funded they're able to host about three school productions a year. Three! In fact, approximately fifty-nine percent of the school's resources—"
"Ahem." Kitty nudged me sharply. "You're doing that thing again."
"Sorry," I waved her off, turning my attention back to Miss Brown. "Anyway, the point is that there's no need for them to cut us off. Besides, the resources we require from the school are the same resources most of the students use on a daily basis anyway. And we use recycled paper."
"Which was my idea," quipped Jane smugly.
"Mr Cross, I never said I agree with any nonsense the board told me." Miss Brown kneaded her forehead, looking tense. "Although, I daresay your...thorough research on the school would've come in handy at our meetings. Unfortunately, I haven't the authority to stop this. Besides, it's far too late. We cannot go on as a society, one with high standards, without the school's financial help, as scant as it was. It's the end of the line."
"A tragic end," Daniel sighed.
"Hmph." Miss Brown nodded stiffly. "Anyway, perhaps it'd now be a better use of what little time we have together to draw up a rough draft of what we'd like to publish as our final school piece. Yes, Jane, go on..."
Kitty's eyes met mine.
"Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head furiously. "No, Elliott, we are not about to launch into some weird protest against this."
"This can't be over, though, Kit," I whispered with equal urgency. "Not by a long shot."
Kitty glowered at me for a second longer but then puffed out a sigh of defeat shortly after before turning back to her notes again. I grinned to myself. It was on.
♕♕♕
My hand had barely brushed against Kitty's elbow in a bid to catch her before she slipped away when Jane barged right in front of me. I noticed that, up close, she looked even scarier than usual. I couldn't tell what it was – the tar-coloured lipstick plastering her lips or the shock of blue hair piled on top of her head like a mop that'd been dunked in a bucket of dye for far too long.
"Hiya Jane," I said, not unpleasantly. "Mind letting me through? See, I'm kind of in a hurry to get to my next anti-capitalism rally."
I could've sworn her septum piercing bristled at that.
"I was going to tell you who's really behind this whole fiasco," she sighed melodramatically, turning away from me, "but I guess your snarky little comments mean more to you than the Journalism society does. Unsurprising."
Normally, it'd take quite a while of coyness from Jane before I relented and let her have what she wanted. But I'd exceeded my quota for patience today. Enough was quite enough.
"Look, hey—" I suppressed my natural instinct to sneer when Jane turned to face me again, her eyes glinting triumphantly. Oh, the little snake. "Sorry. I—I— okay tell me what you know before I stop caring."
She smirked. I almost stopped caring there and then. Almost, and then she opened her mouth.
"Well," she whispered conspiratorially, casting a furtive glance over her shoulder, "I came in this morning to Miss Brown's office, you know, to drop off a new article I'd written for her." She tossed a blue rope of hair from her face, beaming at me. I clenched my fist. I was supposed to be the headlining writer this term. Jane was only riling me up.
"Yes, go on," I urged through gritted teeth.
Jane snickered.
"Anyway," she continued, "I'd come to drop it off but she wasn't anywhere to be seen. Of course, naturally, I followed normal protocol and went over to her desk to put it there. Her computer screen was on and I noticed her e-mails were on display. And, despite my strong moral compass, the vice of curiosity got the best of me." She placed one hand over her heart. "I have never felt so ashamed in my life."
Rolling my eyes, I snapped, "My heart bleeds for you. Where the hell are you going with this story?"
"Anyway," she carried on, ignoring me, "I snuck a look and noticed that there was a new e-mail from Anastasia Montgomery herself. Actually it looked like they'd had a bit of back and forth with each other through e-mail. No obvious threats from either party, but you could tell from the tone. Miss Brown sounded pissed."
My stomach dropped. No. No, not her.
I'd rather have faced the school's Marxist society, brandishing their pitchforks at me. This could seriously not have happened, not to us. Not Anastasia.
"W-Why—" I gulped.
"Why might you ask?" Jane interrupted. "Well, it took me a while to figure out why Anastasia Montgomery is so interested in ruining our obscure little society. I mean, we've never said a bad word about her and our recycled paper is hardly offensive, even to the school's biggest bitch. But it wasn't us she wanted to destroy, it was Miss Brown! Turns out, Miss Brown gave her a bad grade in English last spring which cost her place in that drama school she was going to attend this year."
"Last spring?" I choked out after a momentary pause. "Why is she trying to get revenge now?"
Jane shrugged.
"Search me," she replied. "That's as far as I was able to gather my information. It was all too easy for Anastasia, of course. She's one of the main councillors on the school council and her dad's probably the school's most generous benefactors. They'd hardly be able to say no to her idea about getting rid of us. And it was her idea, I can guarantee it. Wouldn't put it past the scheming, bratty, spoiled little—"
"Hello there, Janice!"
Both Jane and I flew around to be faced by none other than the devil herself.
Anastasia Montgomery was the kind of person you simply couldn't introduce to people without giving them at least a little bit of a back-story. I find that context puts everything into a perfect perspective, especially when dealing with the likes of Anastasia.
She was the girl you read about in books, watched in movies, saw pictures of in magazines. Anastasia Montgomery was the primly packaged Mean Girl you couldn't believe actually existed outside of the realm of fiction. She would've been a sort of laughable caricature of her own self – standard blonde hair, gorgeous blue eyes – if it weren't for the very dangerous power she held over the entire school. Somehow, being a walking, talking cliché straight out of a bad high school romantic comedy isn't quite as funny when one's father practically owns half the city's industrial assets.
We'd been in the same classes together since before Anastasia was old enough to realise she could exploit her daddy's immense wealth and power, but I couldn't recall a single moment in time when we'd said even a word to each other. Although I could recall a fleeting memory from when I was eight of Anastasia sneering at me for offering her a pencil when she'd asked the teacher for one. But that was about as exciting as my interactions had ever gotten with her.
"Hey Elliott," she said now, all smiles. I must've looked taken aback – it was surprising that she'd bothered to acknowledge me now, after all these years of intentional ignorance. It was equally surprising that she'd said my name correctly. She smiled wider, noticing my expression.
And yet, despite my strong moral objections to her very existence, Anastasia would never, ever cease to completely, utterly terrify me.
"Hi," I squeaked.
But she'd stopped paying attention to me by now. Her pretty blonde head had turned to Jane who, for once in her life, looked as though she didn't know what to say. Anastasia was smiling even more brightly now. Anyone who paid enough attention knew that that meant she was going in for the kill, although I couldn't fathom what Jane could've done to warrant one of Anastasia's smiles.
Huh. Maybe she just hated vegans.
"Janet, you've received my copy of the slide shows, yes?"
Jane nodded, still mute.
"Great." Anastasia beamed. "Now remember what I said about the colour scheme. Every slide's got to be a shade lighter than the one before it. Subtlety is an art form."
It's a shame subtlety has never been your strongest suit, I thought wanly. It would've taken a great amount of difficulty – and certainly some degree of blindness – to not notice her dazzling pair of boots that reached her thighs. On anyone else, they'd have looked ridiculous.
On her, they were magnificent.
"Yes, mhm, absolutely," Jane nodded along as Anastasia carried on with her somewhat confusing instructions. Although I had not a clue what either of them was talking about, I begrudgingly admired Anastasia's meticulousness. I supposed that was what made her such a successful villain – her attention to detail.
"Well, I'm glad we've agreed on that then," she finished primly. From what I'd heard so far, it'd appeared more a dictatorial conversation than one of negotiation but that was hardly a surprise.
"Yes," Jane replied, still struggling to comprehend Anastasia's presence.
And I suppose this is where we reached the true turning point in the story, the part where everything began to unravel like a carefully wrapped present which I think I always knew, quietly, held some hideous booby trap. It wasn't hearing about Anastasia's e-mails to Miss Brown that would set me off on that anonymous rampage. It wasn't even that she had practically destroyed our precious Journalism society within a matter of e-mails.
No, it was something far simpler, more animalistic. It was seeing that incessant smirk on her face as she leaned close, feigning sincerity, and pressed one perfect hand to Jane's shoulder before offering her condolences to her on the loss of the Journalism society.
"I know how much it meant to you." Her eye-lashes batted to the same rhythm of her lie.
Even Jane twitched slightly. My irritation was stoked further when she offered no biting reply back. This was Jane. And then Anastasia was gone, brushing past me without a second glance to either of us, her boots clacking their way to class.
This was no mere comment to me. This was, in every way, a declaration of war.
♕♕♕
GrandRidgeExposed.com
Got any confessions, scandals or secrets?
You can post them right here, for the whole world to see.
MISS PERFECTION PERSONIFIED:
A BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF ANASTASIA MONTGOMERY
POSTED by: ANONYMOUS
Anastasia Montgomery has, so far, proved to us all that it is possible to be extraordinary in the worst way possible. How, might you ask, can one achieve extra ordinariness at the tender age of eighteen? Especially the kind of extra-ordinariness that reflects everything that is wrong with our society?
Well, I suppose one need only observe Anastasia for a span of ten minutes to come to a conclusion that Miss Montgomery is (and forgive me for the crudity of the noun), quite simply, a horrendous bitch. And as someone who has experienced their fair share of bitches on my journey wading through the sewer that is secondary school, believe me when I say that there definitely is something quite extraordinary in being both horrendous and a bitch. Put them side by side and you've got yourself an evil concoction of privilege, power and perfection.
Miss Perfection Personified—I hope you all appreciate the alliteration. It took me a while to come up with this.
Stacey managed to prove that quickly enough on the first week of year seven, when she snipped off an entire chunk of Missy Harlington's pigtail because someone had tactlessly commented that it was a prettier shade of blonde than hers. The most delightful part of it all was that she got away with it, even when the parents got involved, and there were threats to sue the school.
And this was when we all realised that it wasn't enough to despise Miss Montgomery with all our might—she's had the backing of her father's money, his influence, his power over the school, over our own parents, for years. It's a shield, if you will, against an inevitable backlash. And it's a shield that has worked for years, a coat of armour that has allowed her to reign over us all.
Her consolidation of power didn't stop with poor Missy's unfortunate pigtail. Let's not forget that momentous occasion in year eight, when Joseph Adler had his PE kit thrown into a recycling bin, his locker spray-painted with slurs and his trousers pulled down in the middle of assembly. Not by Anastasia herself, of course. The dirty work is usually pulled off by one of her various boyfriends, all of whom seem more terrified of, than attracted, to her. The motivation to torment Joseph was driven by the mere fact that he had laughed at Anastasia for answering a question incorrectly in class.
The worst part of it all is not Miss Montgomery herself, but our own inaction. What good is it to secretly loathe the most popular girl in school when our faked awe keeps her on her pedestal? Now I may sound hypocritical saying this, given that this entire blog post has been written anonymously. But I don't claim to be a martyr, either. It is important, however, for one cry of protest (although a relatively quiet one) to start off a grander chain of events. I'll even be cheesy enough to call it a revolution. This isn't just a stand against Anastasia Montgomery. This is a stand against everything she represents, and it is a stand for everything we all believe in. As the French once said: Vive la révolution.
PRESS PUBLISH? YES/NO
YES.
♕♕♕
10:55 P.M.: 2 likes. 1 share.
11:15 P.M.: 7 likes. 5 shares. 2 comments.
11:25 P.M.: 15 likes. 17 shares. 7 comments.
11:50 P.M.: 50 likes. 69 shares. 30 comments.
12:20 A.M.: 130 likes. 200 shares. 100 comments.
2:00 A.M.: 1,200 likes. 2,000 shares. 500 comments.
♕♕♕
@calisto: lmao did somebody steal my diary and publish it bc why have i thought this for yEARS
@kingjames120: damn someone finally said it
@tiashah: this was way too harsh! somebody take this down. isn't this a form of bullying too?
@pxrkerhollie: lmfao sit down sis @tiashah
@swizzles: @tiashah you forget the time back in year five when she told everyone you stole her ruby bracelet because you needed to help your mum pay off her mortgage? she's not your friend sweetie
@eddiek_: ngl this was much needed. anastasia's VILE!
@caniseeuranus: YESSSSS. #AnastasiaMontgomeryisOverParty
@raleighcarter: ^i second the motion #AnastasiaMontgomeryisOverParty
@jesuschriiiiiiist69: #AnastasiaMontgomeryisOverParty
@licketysplit: #AnastasiaMontgomeryisOverParty
@laybibye: lmaoooo so am i the only one who's tagging her in this? here's to you, 'stacey' @shewillriseagain
@daydreamjamesdean: @shewillriseagain
@godisaramennoodle: @shewillriseagain
@holycrappioli: @shewillriseagain
Scroll down for more comments
♕♕♕
@shewillriseagain has shared your post with a comment:
Let them eat cake :)
♕♕♕