Chapter 6: Are you ready to look like a real beauty bitch.
"We should team up and do each other's revenge," Hannah said.
Stephen laughed, expecting it to be a joke. But Hannah's firm expression said otherwise.
"You're serious?" Stephen blinked. "No way."
"Why not?"
Stephen looked down. "I'm not... I can't do revenge. I mean, is 'do revenge' even correct grammar?"
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry! Schoolhouse Rock. Are you dragging my sentence structure right now?"
Stephen raised her hands in defense. "I'm just saying... we could get caught. We could get expelled."
"We won't get caught," Hannah said, voice low but sure. "No one even knows we know each other. It's the perfect cover."
She tilted her head. "With my brains and your... blank slate, we can get away with this."
Stephen hesitated.
"Don't you want to make her pay?"
Stephen's eyes darkened. "I don't want to make her pay. I want to burn her to the ground."
"Woah," Hannah said, grinning. "That gave me chills. Look—see? My hand hairs are up."
Stephen looked, half-laughing despite herself.
"You're radiating serious Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction energy."
Stephen grinned. "'Gleaming Close' energy?"
"Exactly!"
Hannah then took her hand and led her to a mirror.
"But if this is going to work..." Hannah squinted at Stephen's outfit like it offended her personally. "We have to fix this."
Stephen looked at herself. "I really don't want to."
Hannah turned her to face her. "We're doing a makeover."
Stephen sighed. "Yay. A makeover."
"It feels so problematic," she added.
"It is," Hannah said brightly. "But it's fun."
"Let's start with Priea. She'll be a cinch. I could ruin her in my sleep."
Stephen raised a brow. "Why would Priea be easy?"
"Honey," Hannah said, breezing into the clothing store, "it is easier to destroy a girl."
They walked through racks of clothes. Hannah held dresses up to Stephen's frame.
"Slut-shame her, turn her friends against her, prey on her vanity, exploit her secrets. Make her radioactive. No one will help her."
Stephen listened, absorbing it all. She held up a black t-shirt. "I actually really like this."
"Absolutely not," Hannah said, snatching it away and replacing it with something bolder.
As they browsed, Hannah added, "I'm doing community service this year. Penance for punching NK. I requested the school farm. Priea runs it."
Stephen's eyes widened. "Am I actually going to wear all this?"
"They're small," Hannah said, looking at the makeup kits. "We can get more if you're not okay with it."
Stephen shook her head slowly.
At the salon, a stylist measured Stephen's hair.
"Wait—how much are we cutting?"
"Little," Hannah whispered, fingers pinched.
Snip.
Hair hit the floor. Stephen watched, oddly satisfied. The cut shaped her face, and the new deep brown dye made her eyes glow.
"One thing you need to know," Hannah said, watching the process, "is that dudes—dudes are another story."
She leaned in, voice soft but fierce. "Our bodies, our thoughts—policed by shame. If we follow their rules, we're weak. If we resist, we're sluts. If they're angry, they're powerful. If we show emotion? We're hysterical."
"Hey ladies, indoor voices please," someone called.
Stephen looked at herself in the mirror.
"Sara's High is an orchestra," Hannah said. "And NK? He's the conductor."
Stephen stayed quiet, watching herself change.
"He's beloved. Which means he gets away with everything. But I want to expose him."
She picked up lipstick. "And to do that, we need undeniable proof that he's a hypocrite. A fake-woke, misogynist motherfucker."
She applied the lipstick to Stephen's lips, then handed her a tissue. "Blot."
Stephen pressed her lips to the tissue. Hannah examined the result and smiled.
"You look gorgeous. It's like I'm sending my daughter to college."
Stephen turned to the mirror. A short skirt. A fitted blazer. A deep purple beret. Lipstick that screamed confidence. She didn't look like herself—and that felt perfect.
Hannah clapped. "You are now, forevermore, the coolest, most mysterious student in Sara's High."
She grinned wide. "I'm like Frankenstein, and you're like Frankenstein's bad bitch."
Stephen grinned back.
A new game had begun.
Her new status: high-status count.