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Dixie Powell
I won.
I cuddle down against Colt’s chest, smiling to myself. He’s breathing heavy, deep in sleep, but I’m not ready for this day to end. I play with his nipple ring and bask in my victory. I told my parents I was staying at my cousin’s, and I surprised Colt by showing up to make cookies and watch a movie in celebration. Colt’s dad doesn’t care if I stay over, so I have all night. I just wish Colt hadn’t fallen asleep so soon.
I want him to congratulate me on my victory, to tell me how much he admires my brilliance. It took long enough, but in the end, I won, like I always do.
And this time, I did the impossible. I took down the unbeatable queen.
I have that power.
At long last, I beat Gloria Walton.
The queen herself should have feared me more. She should have known not to cross me. Her position was always tenuous, always handed to her on silver platter because she’s hot.
I earned my position. No one handed it to me. I got here on my own, so no one can take it away from me. I became a queen all on my own. And now, I can take away anyone’s power with the stroke of a pen.
I don’t just have Colt. I’ve already named myself queen of the rebel side of the school, the one Harper started to oppose the Dolces. Without a queen on the Dolce side, I’ll be the only queen left, and therefore, the queen of the school. I kept my hand hidden, but all along, I was playing them all like my own personal marionettes. I played my cards so flawlessly that Gloria Walton herself won’t be able to help but be impressed, even though I took her out of the game with my last move.
She never saw it coming.
Not because she’s dumb like Eleanor, but because I’m better at the game. Beating Gloria is that much sweeter because she’s smart and conniving just like me. She’s a match for me—almost an equal.
She knew I could destroy her, but she never guessed my plan—that I’d already set myself up to replace her. She should have seen it, but like everyone, she underestimated me. I’m the perfect opponent, a master of manipulation, so underestimated that it will take no effort for me to convince people that things will be different when I’m on the throne. Of course they won’t, but no one will know that until they’ve already placed the crown on my head. Things never really change at a high school, and a queen can’t help but rule any more than a slut can’t help but spread her legs.
I glance up at Colt’s relaxed face, seething with the knowledge that he fucked her. If only I had the power to make sure he never remembers, power over his mind. I need to work on getting him down on one knee, but it can wait a day. For tonight, I’m going to revel in my victory.
Everyone in the entire school already knows me because of my blog. I’ll appeal to them and pretend I’m one of them, that I’m not like the elites because I wear all black and carry a few extra pounds. And they’ll buy it because I’ve spent the last three years making sure they trust me. They think I’m edgy and different. After all, I sided with Harper, a tough scholarship chick with tattoos and a temper who never really fit in and stood for the other students who don’t conform. They won’t even notice that I’m just like them, that the only thing that sets me apart is my appearance.
Sure, I may be as fake as Gloria Walton, but I did it better. She put a target on her back. I ingratiated myself. People feared her. They love me.
I learned so much from watching her all these years. All this time, she was as poor as Harper, but she tricked everyone into thinking she was the perfect elite. People will be wary now, but I don’t have to prove myself. They already trust me. When I ask them to vote for me to win Prom, they’ll think they know exactly what they’re voting for.
After all, people like to see girls behaving themselves, not sleeping around and being bitches. I’ve set myself up to be everything they wanted while under the reign of Queen Gloria the Wicked. I’m the opposite of her. I’m a nice girl. I live in a subdivision, my parents are still married, and I’ve dated my high school sweetheart since freshman year. I’m on the dance team and Homecoming court—not too popular to be relatable, but always in the center of things, in the periphery of the spotlight.
I was furious I didn’t win Homecoming, but it was a blessing in disguise. If I’d won, people would envy me. Instead, they sympathize with me as the underdog, the one they’ll definitely vote for now.
I run my fingers through Colt’s long hair, but he doesn’t wake. He started to fall asleep during the movie, and when I told him we’d have fun after, he said he was too tired for sex tonight. But what guy doesn’t want to wake up with his dick in a girl’s mouth?
I squirm down the bed and tug down the top of his grey sweatpants, taking him into my mouth. He makes a little sound, stirring at last. Even if he doesn’t fully wake up, he gets hard in his sleep all the time. It’ll be easy to get him ready and climb on. I’ll do all the work, so he doesn’t have to lift a finger.
Despite his flaws, he’s the perfect partner for me right now, when I’m poised to take the throne. He won’t take the spotlight from me. He’ll be grateful I got him out of the doghouse, and he’ll be happy to sit back and support me while I rule. Plus, no one can say I rode his coattails to popularity. They’ll admire that I’m loyal even to the loser, that I let him share my throne, even if he’s only a figurehead with no power of his own, a hot guy to show them I’m desirable without taking away from my victory.
Even if they still consider him a loser, they’ll admire my dedication to him and accept him as the king I chose to sit beside me. My loyalty to him gives me moral high ground that the elites never even saw me carving out, one day at a time, over the past years. Everyone else fell in line with the Dolces, but I never did. I never bowed.
I’ve always played the long game, and now, it’s all coming together more perfectly than I could have dreamed. Now, they will see me as their benevolent queen and beloved ruler, and they will all bow to me.
twenty-five
Rumor Has It…The self-proclaimed queen was seen consorting with the fallen queen amid the scandal. Was her rebellion all an act, a scheme she plotted with the fallen queen to make them both look relevant? One thing is certain. We all deserve better than either of these options… A true Queen who is worthy of our dedication and trust.
Gloria Walton
I drive around for hours. I can’t go home like this. My sisters walked away when the Dolces turned on me, and I’m too ashamed to face them. If they told Mom about my fall from grace, she’ll be devastated.
I think about what Dixie said in the blog about our underwear. How can I ask my upstanding, proper southern lady of a mother something like that? Is that how she pays the bills?
After leaving Colt’s, I don’t want to hear her excuses or slink past my sisters with downcast eyes and hide in my room, so I turn onto the highway, add ten, and fly. “Nightmare” by Halsey comes on, and I turn it up and try to drown my thoughts.
