“I really hate being called stupid,” the girl spoke, meeting Tasha’s eyes with a glare.
“You could try.”
“You must be new around here if you aren’t-“
“Shut the fuck up,” the girl interrupted her, with enough force and hostility that Tasha stopped mid-sentence. “Breathe in my face again and I’m gonna gag. Your breath smells like vomit and a halfhearted attempt at covering up the smell with candy.”
Damn, she’s got some mad burns.
Unconsciously, Tasha’s hand rose toward her mouth. She stopped and folded her arms, as if to prevent her hand from straying again. She tried to gather her composure, tell off the girl, but the girl was already speaking.
(There’s another girl we know who doesn’t like insults to her intelligence and has a way with words, but nothing else about the behavior here is fitting.)
“Your boyfriend is cheating on you, Tasha Fowler, sleeping with your best friend.
…never mind.
I guess Lisa was a bit more… brusque and blunt back then.
Pretty fucking ironic, given how unattractive your friend is, and your continued attempts to puke yourself thin and make yourself pretty for him.”
Oof.
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