Warning: I'm British, so all information is based on my cousin's Californian high school, and therefore may not be accurate representation of the experience present in American Schools
TUMBLE
Rated M for strong language, sexual references and sexual violence
All characters belong to their rightful owners.
Chapter One: The Year that Kitten Moth's Bestie Had Her Name Written All Over School
It hung there, in all of its malicious glory. Sprawled in thick black sharpie; the harsh, protruding lines that defined the cruel statement. Taking up the corridor's entire white wall, was the cold message. The first sentence that caught everybody's eye:
Kory Anders is a slut.
Dick Grayson, the seventeen-year-old senior was no exception. He opened up the doors to the main building, a bag lazily hanging on one shoulder. After reading the graffiti twice, he turned to his best friend Rachel Roth.
"Ouch," he commented, stepping into the crowded corridor. "That's certainly an interesting way to start the year."
Rachel shrugged, delicately moving a strand of dark hair away from her cheek. "Whoever did this, is going to be caught soon. Kory Anders is the best friend of Kitten Moth. And we all know who her Dad is."
It was no secret that the strawberry-blonde monster sometimes known as Katrina (mostly known as the self-proclaimed 'Kitten') would have a father in power. Unfortunately, his role in society was to donate money to Brookford High School in return of receiving a place on the board of directors, and that was an irritating fact Kitten enjoyed pointing out. It meant that she was given free access to skive from any sort of work, bully to her heart's content, and threaten unsuspecting teachers with the prospect of losing their job.
Dick snorted, used to the blunt attitude displayed by his best friend. "True," he agreed. "But Kitten's gonna blow everything out of proportion — as usual. Ten bucks says she's gonna make some sort of reference to this," he waved his arm, "before the end of the week..."
Raven stared at him, and for a moment he was worried she would scold him for such a childish notion. Rachel Roth didn't do immature bets — she read poetry and drank tea. But to his relief, she gave a curt smile.
"Twenty says before the end of the day." she challenged.
He grinned, shaking his head. "Nah, thirty says before lunch."
Rachel's eyes brightened considerably as they continued through the hall. "You're on, rich boy."
He only chuckled and readjusted the red backpack that currently rested on his left shoulder. A crowd of students had accumulated around the message on the wall, chatting loudly as they excitedly guessed who was responsible.
He groaned slightly, nudging Rachel's side. "You do realise that this is all we're going to hear about for the next year, right? It's gonna be the biggest story of the century."
Glancing at his best friend, her expression mirrored his, mouth turned into a scowl, eyes seething with frustration. It was kind of pathetic, he noted, how easy it was for high school students to pick up a topic and obsess over it for the rest of their life.
Last year had been dubbed, 'The Year of the Cat Fights,' due to the highly unusual number of female students who had ended their arguments with physical violence. Dick had an uneasy feeling that this year would be associated with the graffiti or even worse, 'The Year that Kitten Moth's Bestie Had Her Name Written All Over School.'
A few more hallways only brought more messages.
Kory Anders is a bitch.
Text Kory for a good time!
The Queen of Slutty Clothes a.k.a Kory Anders is a complete and utter whore.
Whoever had written these comments definitely had a personal vendetta against Kory, and the names used became more vulgar and obscene as Dick and Rachel walked about. Each wall had a different message, a different flaw of Kory's accompanied with doodles of the redhead or random flowers and hearts. A few of the comments referenced extremely dirty acts, and Dick found his eyebrows raising in shock.
But the men's bathroom was the worse. The words used to describe Kory were rude, disgusting and downright horrible. Her number was etched onto the wall, carved with some sort of knife.
Call Kory — she's the type of girl who'll blow you! Just ask!
Students wandered the halls, soaking in the comments, and he even caught one trying to add their own. Dick began to feel utter remorse for the poor girl, whose first day of senior year was going to be the worst day of her life. At least Kitten would guarantee that all of the comments were down as soon as possible.
"This person's really digging it in." he commented. "I feel really bad for Kory."
Rachel's face was devoid of emotion. She shook her head, grimacing slightly. "I don't." she stated, simply. "When I was ten, Kitten poured a carton of orange juice on my hair in front of the whole class. Whoever voluntarily spends time with a bitch like her, obviously acts like her."
He'd never heard that story before, but judging by her tone, she'd obviously been quite upset about it, "I'm sorry."
"It's fine." Rachel didn't even look relieved at all. She tucked her hair behind her ear, changing the subject quickly. "I haven't seen Gar at all, this morning." she said, changing the subject.
Dick thought back to his blond-haired goofball of a best friend, whose famous quality lay in the form of (sometimes entertaining, mostly corny) jokes. The banter between Rachel Roth and Garfield Logan was the only thing that kept him sane at times.
"He's probably catching up with his beauty sleep," he laughed.
A small smile appeared on Rachel's pale lips. "Considering he spends all of his life sleeping, you would begin to wonder about how much beauty sleep he actually needs."
She gave a soft giggle but was interrupted when a brunette junior spun on her heel and told them to stop talking because Kory Anders was about to enter the school. He clenched his jaw in frustration, pulling a face at Rachel.
Any thriving noise in the hallway immediately died down as the two doors opened. Inside, stepped the wavy redhead, holding her bag on one shoulder and using her other arm to clutch a folder. She was wearing a miniskirt, a halter-top and tall boots; her clothing matched a runway, not a high school.
Her face was confused at first, probably due to the number of people obscuring the sign. But as soon as the crowd parted, her lips parted in surprise.
"I think we need to get out of here. Things are going to get real ugly." he told his best friend, as they subtly moved into the next hallway.
Rachel nodded, still solemn. "What class do you have first? I've got AP History with Mod."
Dick only needed one word to conjure up the image of the scarlet-haired, eccentric history professor who was extremely devoted to his homeland. The man who used obscure British slang and had nicknamed his least favourite students "duckies" (and unfortunately Mr Grayson was on that list).
"I've got AP English with Carlson. And somehow Kitten bought her way into that class, so she'll probably make a graffiti reference. Remember, you'll owe me thirty dollars."
"Sure." Rachel replied, her voice holding a bitterly sarcastic tone to it.
The corridor split into two others, and the friends parted. He tried to avoid reading any more of the vicious signs, but they were positioned in such a way that one part would always catch his eye, regardless of how hard he tried.
Kory Anders reluctantly trudged to her AP English class, feeling pure humiliation. She had never been fond of her name — it was a combination of two boys' names — but at that particular moment, she completely loathed it.
When she had read the first message, emotions of shock, confusion and hurt had run through her. But an overwhelming need to leave the country and change her name had soon accompanied. It didn't help that her red hair made her stand out, and her mini-skirt made her look more promiscuous than intended.
She tugged at her skirt for the third time, wishing it to grow in length. It was Ryan's first day of high school and he'd read most of the walls. He'd spent ten minutes checking that she was okay — she lied, right to his face — before finding his first class.
Kory opened the door and every single member of the class stopped talking. In any other scenario, the idea of rendering a whole room silent would have thrilled her, but all she felt was embarrassment.
She fixated on a desk in the back corner, making her way towards it, when she heard the familiar argument between Xavier Redd and Lana Scholey.
"So…is it true that your dad married a woman who goes around pretending she's Taylor Swift?" Xavier asked, smirking.
Lana's response was a curt, "Go fuck yourself," but then she added, "Or how about just ask Kory Anders — I'm sure she'd do it for free."
Tears threatened to prick at Kory's eyes, but she bit her lip and gave Lana her best death glare.
Xavier turned around to face her, ran a hand through his dark hair and said, "So Kory, your place or mine?"
She completely ignored him, and sat down, pulling out her glittery notebook. Kitten would get her dad to clean up the whole place before the end of the week, and nobody would ever mention it again. All Kory had to do was survive the week from Hell.
By the time Ms Carlton had arrived, everybody was present and gossiping about the "slutty Kory Anders." Class started with each student receiving their copy of George Orwell's Animal Farm, as well as a brief introduction of expectations. The first few lessons revolved around pair work — something Kory detested currently.
Pairs were going to be pre-arranged, and by the time Ms Carlton began to read out her list, twenty minutes had already passed.
"…Kory Anders and Kitten Moth…"
Relief coursed through her at the prospect of working with her best friend. It was going to be all right now; Kitten would make sure that the messages were erased and —
"Excuse me, Ms Carlton, I need a new partner." The shrill, clear voice of Kitten Moth — her best friend — pierced through the silence.
The brunette woman at the front crossed her arms, holding an expression of disbelief. Her overall stance made her seem like a force not to be reckoned with, at that current moment.
"Why?"
Kitten outstretched a hand and peered at her nails whilst Kory slumped forward in her seat. "I'm not talking to Kory!" she declared.
Flashes of anger attacked Kory. She was supposed to be her best friend, but Kitten had suddenly decided that she wasn't good enough! It was frustratingly painful; the mood of her day had deteriorated quickly within two hours.
Ms Carlton sighed, looking bored. "And why aren't you talking to her?" she asked.
The blonde girl grimaced. "Haven't you read any of the hallway walls? She's a bitch!"
Kory recoiled as if Kitten had physically slapped her. She bit her lip and willed herself not to burst into tears.
"I will not tolerate that sort of language here, Miss Moth." Ms Carlton then turned to the rest of the class. "Would anybody be willing to swap with Kitten?"
To her complete and utter dismay, not a single person raised their hand. A few shuffled uncomfortably, but none of them had wanted to switch. Kory could've died then, right on the spot.
Another sigh, and then, "Very well. Both of you will be working by yourself."
Class continued, but Kory didn't pay attention to a single word spoken. She used her hair to cover her face and stared blankly at the words as they swam off the page. She focused on the clock; on the tapping of feet; on the sounds of pages turning.
In her mind, she was everywhere, but the stuffy classroom.
Somebody tapped her shoulder softly, but she ignored it. Two more taps, and she turned to her side, facing Dick Grayson.
"Hey," he greeted sheepishly. "Uh…do you know what page we're on?"
Kory blinked in a vain attempt to get rid of any half-formed tears. "Seventeen, I think."
"Cool." He looked away, and then turned back towards her, smiling warmly. "Hey, do you…uh need a tissue?"
It was kind of cute the way Dick sounded so concerned, but Kory brushed away any thoughts like that.
"I'm fine, thank you," she lied, using the back of her hand to wipe away any remaining unnecessary moisture from her eyes.
A few more classes passed (Biology, French, Math) before lunch rolled around, bringing a new hurricane of stares and whispers. Kory had begun to lose respect for her peers; they were mean cowards who acted as if she was a toxic variation of a common cold.
Ryan had bumped into her in the crowd twice, holding concerns about her, but she had dismissed them casually. She was the cool, calm and collect Kory, not the freaky girl who wanted to disappear into the depths of Hell (which was definitely less painful than High School).
She smiled, and kept her head up high, clutching books to her chest, keeping the perfect picture of confidence. In reality, the bubbly Kory Anders was plotting her escape to Florida (they had nice food there), the Cayman Islands (no tax!) or England (cute boys with even cuter accents).
And every time she passed her name, her stomach lurched and she fought the urge to vomit.
The school cafeteria sold barely edible food accompanied with a tiny carton of orange juice, an apple, a chocolate pudding and a piece of bread. Kory had never payed so much attention to the tiny grey tray, but it beat the alternative of watching every student as they stared at her.
Kitten's table was in the middle — it allowed her to keep control, or so she said — and she was already sitting there by the time Kory had collected her lunch.
A quick glance allowed her to spot her three other friends, who were next to Kitten.
The pretty Vietnamese Hayley Adaro, who had her black hair cropped into a bob as per Kitten's suggestion. She was nudging Amber Roberts (who'd only joined their group after Tara left) a girl with a mahogany ponytail, and a red t-shirt.
And Kitten, with her strawberry-blonde hair, blue eyes and signature pink hairband, munching on a special K raspberry breakfast bar. Kory glanced at her three friends, wracking her mind for any faults she might have committed during the summer. Kitten was definitely upset with her — her vindictive actions in English had shown that.
She reached the table and gave an apologetic smile. "Kitten, I know I'm not your favourite person, but I really want to apologise for whatever I've — "
The sounds of shoes scraping against the floor as her three best friends stood up from the bench, gave her dirty glares and promptly left the table. Their food trays were still filled with their lunch.
Kory almost collapsed in a flood of tears. She could feel the eyes of every senior student staring at her, silently mocking the pathetic mess that was Kory Anders. Whispers of "I knew that would happen! Who would want to be friends with her when those messages are everywhere?" and, "She deserves it, wearing that slutty outfit!"
She was frozen to the spot, rooted with embarrassment, humiliation, hurt and mortification. There was nowhere for her to hide, nowhere for her to disappear until everything blew over.
The speaker system gave a familiar series of beeps, before the clear voice of the secretary broke the silence.
"Could Kory Anders please report to the principal's office?"