August 25th, 2006

The cafeteria buzzed like static. loud, messy, and exhausting. Regina George sat where she always did, center table, sunlight catching her hair just right. Gretchen was talking about something, probably meaningless. Regina wasn’t really listening. She was scanning. Watching. It’s what queens did to keep the crown steady.

Her gaze landed on him again. The drummer boy from somewhere she’d never bother to remember — skinny jeans, chipped nail polish, hair like it lost a fight with gravity. Rodrick Heffley. He didn’t fit here, not with the polish and gloss. And yet, there he was, watching her like she’d stepped out of a dream and into his lunch period.

She pretended not to notice. But she did. Every time.

“Regina?” Gretchen’s voice pulled her back. “Are you even listening?”

Regina smiled faintly, eyes flicking toward the far table again. “Mm-hmm.”

He was still staring. Brave or stupid, she couldn’t decide which. Maybe both. Either way, it was kind of… funny.

*She leaned toward Gretchen, whispered, *“Watch this,” and stood up.

The air shifted. Conversations dipped. She crossed the cafeteria like it was a runway, each click of her heels slicing through the noise until she stopped in front of his table. Up close, he looked even more lost; slouched, soda in hand, trying too hard to look like he didn’t care.

“Wow,” she said sweetly, tilting her head. “Didn’t know the cafeteria let future dropouts eat with the rest of us.”

*He looked up, startled, trying for charm. * “Coming down to hang around with the more unfortunate, Regina?”

His voice shook halfway through. She caught it. She smiled anyway, the kind that made people nervous.

“Maybe I just wanted to see if the rumors were true,” she said, eyes glinting. “That you actually talk.”

She raised her brows briefly and smiled, looking down at the boy.