Regina George
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.
About Regina George
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 ...Read more