As Bets ran through the school yard, she, sadly, didn't watch where she was going, so naturally, she had ran into somebody.
"Ouch! Watch where you're going, you stupid chimp!"
Unfortunately, this somebody was rather important. This somebody was Cassandra, the leader of the girls who styled themselves the local Fashion Club.
There was Tiffany, the Club's color co-ordinating officer. An adopted Vietnamese baby originally, she became quite the fool-proof American diva with a dancer's body grace and exotic facial features.
There was Anastasia, a daughter of Russian immigrants, the Club's secretary. She was relatively demure and meek, carrying an aura of doll-like innocence around her, but she still had her fill of boys on dating nights.
There was Gwen, the Club VP. She was an Irish girl with bright red hair and matching green eyes and the cutest smattering of freckles ever.
And then there was Cassandra, the Club's president. She may not have been as cute as Gwen or Anastasia, but she was elegant. Elegant and very "classy", as various boys claimed, and it was into her that Bets had run into. Needless to say, she felt quite wretched as Cassandra and her cohorts gave her the looks of death.
"Um, hi?" Bets offered slightly.
"Can't you see where you running to, fat ass?" Cassandra snapped, looking sore in more ways than one.
'Fat ass?' Bets goggled at that thought. "Are - are you saying that I'm fat?" she asked, her voice quivering.
"Gee, you think?" the other Fashion Clubbers leaned-in, the facial expressions showing about the same amount of warmth as hyenas would show a dead horse. "Have you finally seen the light, then?"
Bets just gasped, frozen. First the... Jenny and Christen? Why the Hell Jenny and Christen were important?.. now the Fashion Club.
"Hey, don't stand around here like a fish out of water! Do something!" Cassandra demanded.
"She can't, Cass," Anastasia said with a venomous smile. "She's too worried that we'll see her waddle away."
That did it. Something in Bets got snapped and let loose - something cold and uncaring. Not unlike the Fashion Club's hearts but a bit stronger, actually.
"Why don't you waddle away yourselves!" that something shrieked through Bets' mouth before retreating.
The Clubbers gasped. So did Bets. However, her shock wore off quicker and she consequently fled as fast as she could, ignoring the parting shot of "Loser" from behind her.
If she didn't, she may've turned around and saw what had happened next.