#Class2-B

Honey twirls one of her golden curls between her fingers as she waits outside Class 2-B.

The meek little man that was her teacher went to quiet down the class before her introduction. By the continuing sounds of chatter, she can tell he wasn’t successful.

A single cockroach sits on the wall opposite of her and its antennae twitch every time she shifts her weight. Paint chips off the area near the window, littering the floor like dandruff, and there are so many scratches in the glass, it’s no longer transparent.

This place really lived up to its name. Godforsaken.

However, in this abysmal environment, Honey has plans and whether it’s in a lavish uptown school or a literal dump, She’d get her revenge one way or another.

That is, whenever the teacher decided to make her classmates shut up so she could make her grand entrance. A holler rang out from behind the rusted sliding doors, starting at the front of the room and answered by a student in the very back.

The cockroach skitters away.

Honey’s had enough of waiting, she’d already waited for a full break to witness her new peers’ shock at her lovely face.

Ah yes, the lack of appreciation for her beauty was like an itch under her skin.

Before the teacher can call her into the classroom, she bursts through the door, and her bracelets jingle together as writes her name in looping letters across the chalkboard.

She accents it with a lovely heart.

At this the class is silent, and Honey relishes in their bewilderment. They must be awestruck.

Completely speechless with her glamorous appearance. A flip of her curls for added effect and then she speaks in a voice doused in sweet.

“My name is Honey Bun,” she points a polished nail towards the username circled in a heart, “and you can find me at hunnie.bunnie143 on Sinstagram, I’ll be posting every day!”

Perfect. She couldn’t have said it any better.

Now she won’t have to give out her socials individually and her follower count would increase by about 30 just this morning. Even the class seemed blown away by her impeccable delivery.

Maybe a bit too blown away.

It was so quiet, Honey swears she can hear the cockroach from the hall scuttling across the cheap linoleum floors. Had she overestimated the strength of her introduction? Was it too good?

“Oh and I’m pleased to meet all of you.” She adds.

More silence. Even the insect has stopped making noises.

And this is when Honey gets her first look at Class 2-B of Godforsaken High.

A good look.

These aren’t the faces of admiration that feel lucky to have a girl like Honey join their grade or even the slightest bit interested in her social media mention (which is the real kicker).

These are faces that look like they would be amused to be put on death row. For the fourth time.

A girl with a chipped front tooth and terribly contoured make-up sneers at Honey from the back row. She whispers something nasty to the girl beside her who grows an equally disgusting grin.

A group of boys in the middle of the classroom don’t spare her second glance before returning to their conversation, another one snorts from the front row and hoots a catcall.

Some students near the windows glare daggers like they’re plotting murder. One of them is straight-up smoking and tossing ashes out the second-story window.

Class 2-B’s homeroom teacher sweats splotches into his cheap polo shirt, nervously watching this new student be chewed up by looks alone.

Honey’s appearance is all soft cardigans and sparkly jewelry with a face so round it looks like it could burst out crying at any moment.

And for a second, Honey’s caught off guard, her outstretched hand sliding down from the chalkboard in defeat.

It’s those looks, the condescending scowls and whispers purposefully just loud enough for her to hear that really brings her back to last year.

This…wasn’t what she was expecting.

Not quite the audience she had prepared for, but, Honey resigns, when does anything work out perfectly?

Meager obstacles like these are only bumps in her road she’d have to stamp out. Vigorously if needed.

Her 30 follower quota for the morning could wait. It wouldn’t be long. She’d win them over eventually and then the school would be hers.

Godforsaken’s inevitable queen.

The teacher coughed to catch her attention. He was rubbing his hands together in the same way you’d wring a wet towel.

“Yes, well...why don’t you take a seat over there, by Misha.”

When Honey follows his line of sight to the empty seat all the way at the back of the classroom, she smothers the urge to scrunch her nose in distaste.

Misha takes the famous spot by the window in the back corner, surrounded by an awkward empty space where his neighbors shifted their desks away like he was some sort of disease.

Only the empty desk to his right was left untouched and Honey knows a social outcast when she sees one.

Especially one as obvious and as shunned as this specific individual.

It was that weirdo with the butterfly hair clip. Diligently copying pages from a textbook into his perfectly organized notes, Misha didn’t so much as tilt his head in her direction when she takes her seat.

It creaks unceremoniously, reminding her it was a regular school chair and not a throne.

Vigorously stamp out the obstacles. She reassures herself. Vigorously.

Desperate, Honey turns to talk to the girl with the chipped tooth, hoping she would appreciate some much needed make-up advice, but it’s too late.

Everyone has turned their backs on Honey.

And for the second time in her life, Honey is completely invisible.

The tiny cockroach from the hall has found its way by her feet and she feels unwillingly sympathetic.

Then Misha picks it up with his bare hand and chucks it out the window.

He gives her a thumbs up.