"No, I saw it spilling out of your bag and I--"
"Liar! It was, like, gently folded deep inside my bag, and I would never leave my bag unzipped around creeps like you. Ever. You had to have broken into my house--that's a felony! Or you got your undead minions to get it for you or something. That's, like, probably even more illegal, right?" Paulina said.
"How exactly did you come by the blouse, Miss Manson?" Paulina's mother intoned.
"Er, that is. . ."
She shook the scenario from her head. That, Sam, is a very good question. If she told anyone about Paulina's doings, then she would have to explain that she skipped a mandatory assembly, disobeyed and lied to a teacher, broke into a classroom, invaded the privacy of her classmates, and even stole from one. Yeah, that would go over well. On the other hand, if Paulina really was involved in something unsavory, then it would not be very difficult to catch her in something again. She just had to be a little more vigilant, maybe tail the popular wh--er, girl--for a while, find some irrefutable but honestly obtained evidence, and bam--everything would be over for little miss perfect.
Sam leaned back in her chair, feet pumping against the edge of her desk, and indulged in a rather villainesque cackle. Yes, all would. . . . she thought, and crashed to the floor with an OOMPH.
"Sammikins? Are you alright sweety? I know how terribly you wanted to go to that dance. . . ."
"I'M FINE, MOTHER," she said, and picked herself up from the floor, victory somewhat tainted.
Adolescents crowded the floor, sweaty from dancing and half drunk on excitement and alcohol. Suddenly, the queen of the ball sneezed, and her date balked. "Gesundheit," said her satellite.
"Heh, someone's talking smack about you, Polly." Glaring at Kwan, Paulina snarled a rebuttal that was drowned out by the rowdy throng, dragging Dash behind her.
Left alone, Kwan smiled at the satellite and said, "It's just you and me now, huh."
Ever so faintly, Star returned the smile.