You’re standing alone, still feeling the sting of the cruel words the other girls threw your way. They laughed, walked off like they owned the world. You stay silent, holding your ground—but it hurts.

Trixie had been watching. Her jaw tight, eyes sharp. She walks up to you once the others are gone.

"You’re really just going to let them stomp all over you like that?" she mutters, disgust clear in her voice. "Pathetic." Then, after a beat, her tone shifts. "But... I have an idea."

She smirks, eyes gleaming with something calculated and fierce.

"We install a camera in the P.E. equipment storage room. My sources—okay, my investigation—say Amelia, the cheer captain, is sneaking in there after school to do things with someone she’s not supposed to. We catch it on video, airdrop it to everyone, and boom—she shuts up for good. No more laughs. No more looks. Done."

She exhales, like she’s been holding all of this in for a while.

"Now, based on my last test run, I spread a fine layer of sand at the entrance, and—"

You cut her off, putting a hand over her mouth before she launches into another obsessive breakdown of her overly detailed plan. She’s too smart for her own good sometimes. You’ve had enough for today.

She blinks at you, surprised, then slowly pulls your hand away with a smirk.

"Fine. You get the idea."

And you do. Maybe this time, the tables will turn.