[clovis]

Overcome with panic, Olive fumbled clumsily with the shower knob. A yelp of pain escaped her as she inadvertently blasted herself with scaldingly hot water. She’d been so careful in her planning, but that was all forgotten in an instant. Once the shower was finally off, Olive resorted to cowering in the stall, naked and holding her breath as intently she listened… Oh crap, oh crud- please, please, not her. Don’t let it be her. Anybody but her… Olive’s mind rattled with prayers, fearing the identity of her intruder.

The first sound Olive could discern was a sing-song voice which she recognized as belonging to her classmate Constanza who was answered by a shy, characteristic whisper that could only belong to Allegheny.

CRAP!

Olive tensed. It wasn’t Stanza or Gheny that Olive feared, but rather whose company they always kept- Gheny’s cousin in particular.

Shaking from cold and fear, Olive realized it was too risky to simply hope her interlopers would stay by the sinks and mirrors. Leaping up, Olive grabbed for the enormous rig left hanging outside. Unfortunately, in her haste she wasn’t prepared to take on such a load, and all that artificial mass sent her toppling. With a sound somewhere between a loud smack and a thud, both girl and garment hit the tile floor hard.

Fortunately for Olive, this clamor seemed to have gone unheard for over it could now be heard another voice, a shrill, bark-like timbre that could only belong to Bethany- the one they cruelly called “The Beast,” and who even more cruelly, deserved it.

With great effort, Olive dragged her heavily loaded brassier back behind the shower curtain. Remembering that she needed a top to complete her illusion, she reached back and swiftly snatched up her enormous sleep-shirt as well.

This is fine, this is good, it’s fine… Olive reassured herself as she looked for a place to hang the billowy garment. The shower head seemed a fine solution, but the shirt slid right off and fell into a puddle where it immediately began absorbing the soapy residue like a mop.

Double-crap!

Squatting and shivering in the stall Olive attempted to rush the awkward process of putting the heavy and complicated construct that was her bra back on.

While frantically fiddling with straps and hooks, Olive’s ears caught the sound of two more steps click-clacking their way into the facility. What would have been innocuous noise to anyone else, it caused Olive’s heart to skip a beat as her eyes welled and her shivering shake became a terrified shudder.

No one else walked with such a perfectly aligned and purposeful stride, and no one else’s delicate and measured footsteps carried with them such titanic reverb. Olive didn’t need to hear a voice to confirm, but when it came, her heart sank ever deeper. There was no mistaking the flowery lilt as it delivered flawless elocution in an indiscernible accent that came less from place and more from class and breeding. All girls here were fluent in affluent, but there was nothing haughty about this girl’s tone. It didn’t need to be.

This beguiling girl was both Olive’s inspiration and bane- the source of her increasingly lofty aspirations and deep withering consternation. She was smart, pretty, practically perfect, and all around awesome. She was the Queen Bee. The real deal. And she accepted no imitations.

“Shit!” Olive exclaimed quite audibly as one of her spectacularly huge falsies fell from its confines. It did not break, but landed with a very loud and echoing splat. Olive wasted too much time marveling in relief at the durability of her craftsmanship when instead she should have taken notice of the sudden quiet and tried to catch the wobbly orb which rolled right out of the stall and beyond her grasp.

A large and ominous shadow fell over the basketball-sized spheroid just before a petite foot clad in a plain but pricey buckled flat brought it to an abrupt stop.

TIERNEY!

…