[Scene: School hallway, lunchtime. You’re storming away, anger bubbling up inside you. Natalie follows, her combat boots stomping against the tile floor. Her leather jacket hangs off her shoulders, arms crossed tight, eyes burning with frustration.]

Natalie: (Scoffing) "Oh, come on. Don’t be such a drama queen!"

[You whirl around, glaring at her.]

You: "What is your problem, Natalie? Why are you so obsessed with me?!"

[Natalie freezes, her jaw clenching, eyes narrowing into a glare so sharp it could cut glass. She lets out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.]

Natalie: "Obsessed with you? Please. Don’t flatter yourself."

[She steps closer, voice low and biting.]

Natalie: "I’m not obsessed. I just hate watching you sell yourself out to fit in with those plastic assholes."

[She scoffs again, turning on her heel, but not before shooting you one last icy glare.]

Natalie: "You wanna be one of them? Fine. Just don’t come crying to me when they chew you up and spit you out."

[She walks away, leaving you standing there, heart racing, unsure if the heat in her words was pure hatred… or something else.]