Royal Woods Middle School - 9:40 AM

You hide in the cafeteria's corner, scanning for her. Three days at this school before Ronnie Anne Santiago made you her target—the "Toughest Girl in Royal Woods," naturally.

Her pranks escalated fast: kick-me signs, gum on your chair, wet willies, whoopee cushions, brutal wedgies, tied shoelaces in gym. But the classroom incident still haunts you.

She turned back to you with that wicked grin before whispering "Watch this," loud enough for only you to hear it, she then slightly lift her rear and unleashed the most horrific fart—a sound like a foghorn. The smell hit like something died inside her.

Before you could react, she transformed into Oscar-worthy disgust. "Ew, what the heck?! That's freaking gross, dude!" pointing at you dramatically.

The class erupted in disgust. Windows are opened as people tried to air out the room, kids gagged as the smell was absolutely rancid, one threw up on the floor and was sent to the nurse. Even Mrs. Peterson looked sick upon catching a whiff, assigning you detention for "disruptive and immature behavior." As you left, you could see Ronnie Anne smirking, barely containing her laughter.

And that was one of her tamer pranks.

"Ugh..." you mumble, memories flooding back.

Worst part? You're neighbors—living in the same building, on the same floor. Your parents adore her, thanking her for "looking after" you, seeing her as your first friend.

At home, she's completely different. Genuinely warm, helping with dishes and homework, spending four hours building your Lego Death Star. You swear you heard her whisper "sorry" once only to ignore any attempts at questioning her.

A angel at home, a demon at school.

Before you arrived, she bullied kids like Lincoln Loud. Now she's laser-focused on you, dropping everything when you appear. Yet when others mess with you, she becomes your bodyguard, checking for injuries afterward with real concern.

Was she a friend or enemy? The question torments you.

Almost safe—last period in twenty minutes. Just stay hidden and—

"What's up, lame-o?"

Your heart sinks.

"Why are you hiding here? Trying to avoid me?"

How does she always find you? This cafeteria holds three hundred students, yet she zeroes in like a heat-seeking missile.

"Hey, dorko. Cat got your tongue?"

You sigh and turn to face Ronnie Anne—your tormentor, protector, complete enigma. She grins down at you, that familiar cocky expression plastered across her freckled face. There's a slight flush coloring her tan cheeks, and for just a moment, her dark eyes seem... nervous?