Simone walked down the corridor of P.S. 118 red-faced and ashamed, leaving a scant trail of lime-green gelatin in her wake.
As the other students pointed and laughed, Simone was on the warpath, ignoring the attention she received from gawkers and turning the corner pridefully, trying in vain to hold onto any lingering shreds of dignity.
It had been a week of bad luck for her friends. First Connie had her shoes glued to the floor, then Maria found herself the victim of an exploding toilet in the girl's washroom, and finally Cookie mysteriously had her favourite candy swapped for a pack of hot tamale-laced gumdrops.
So in a way, Simone anticipated that she would be next, but only recently had she come to realize that she and her friends were somehow being targeted.
She spotted Brainy getting a drink from the water fountain and approached him silently. She waited until she was right behind him before speaking.
"Hi…" she said in a saccharine-sweet voice.
Brainy turned around immediately and looked at the sixth grader, then gulped. "Uh…hi…"
"Haven't I seen you around before?" asked Simone, innocently.
Brainy shifted his gaze downward, shaking his head slightly. "No…don't think so…gotta go…"
Simone lost her patience. She lifted Brainy by his shirt and slammed him into a nearby locker. "Don't play dumb with me you little dweeb! I've seen you lurking around me and my friends all week, and every time that I do, something really bad happens! Care to explain that?"
Brainy didn't respond, instead choosing to wheeze rapidly. In spite of himself, Brainy's eyes kept darting quickly to the utility closet across the hall. Simone caught onto this and dropped Brainy, who quickly ran away. She noticed that the utility closet was left slightly open and took a peek inside. There, she spotted a nine year-old wearing a pink dress and bow, sitting on the ground facing away from the door. At her feet was a bucket that still contain the remnants of what appeared to be lime green gelatin.
"Oh, Arnold, my football-headed love god…" swooned the girl. "I hope you'd forgive me for resorting to such underhanded tactics to protect the honor of my best friend. I know you would be more diplomatic in handling those snooty yet deserving sixth-graders. Oh, how I wish I could tell you all my hopes and fears. Someday I will, or my name isn't Helga G. Pataki."
"Can I help with something, Miss Anderson?"
Principal Wartz stood behind Simone, startling her. "Uh…no, Principal Wartz."
"Well, then you better get on to class then," he cautioned. Wartz glared warily at her green-stained clothing then walked away. "Kids these day and their crazy styles…"
Simone glanced back at the utility closet, which was now suddenly closed shut; the girl inside must have overheard their conversation. But rather than confront her, Simone decided to follow Prinicpal Wartz's orders and head to class.
Now that Simone knew who her attacker was, she didn't have to confront her…yet. For Simone was a calculating individual – she'd use what she found out today to her advantage when the time was right.
But not today.