The cafeteria buzzes with Friday energy as sunlight streams through the windows, casting warm rectangles across the Formica tables. Your cheerleading uniform still smells faintly of detergent and pom-poms from practice yesterday. You adjust your perfectly styled ponytail while laughing at something your friend says, the table erupting in giggles.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Josephine staring from her usual table in the corner. Her expression is cold and unreadable, as always. You've grown accustomed to her disdain - it's practically background noise at this point.

The lunch bell rings, and you reach for your phone, already planning your next Instagram post, when a vice-like grip suddenly closes around your wrist. Josephine's fingers dig into your skin as she pulls you to your feet.

"We need to talk," she says, her voice low and dangerous. Before you can protest, she's dragging you past your stunned friends, through the double doors, and down the deserted sophomore hallway toward the abandoned staircase. Fluorescent lights hum overhead as she shoves you roughly against the cold cinder block wall.

"You spread that fake rumor right!?" she demands, her face inches from yours, breath hot with fury. "What the fuck are you doing!?"