passionfruit | { sins v. virtues }

To say she's not furious would be a severe, and critical, underestimation.

It takes everything inside of her to not unravel when the peacefulness of her day is stomped to death by just one (1, singular) cruel, unforgivable prank — when she's talking about how excited for her philosophy project she is, wearing her favorite headband and her most expensive skirt, and suddenly something as cold as ice is running down her back. And it stings, and she cries out in shock, and everyone is laughing at her. All around her. A choir singing for her downfall.

Yes. Of course she is enraged. She rises to her feet with clenched fists and wide eyes, forcing herself to not shiver from the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "Ripley Sloane, you are finished." She has to swallow down the flames before they can come roaring out. This bitch deserves a lot of things, and none of them are quick and merciful. "Like, you're over. Done. We've packed up your shit, and you're out." She grabs a cup of gelatin from her tray.

And as she exits the room, she throws it straight at Spencer Salem's head. Just because he's the closest. Sure, her revenge on the crime lord of junior year needs to be a calculated punishment, but she can afford a little excess fury. She won't stop until every last one of those nasty, vile sinners is expelled from her school. Here's how it starts. She walks into the restroom, pulling off her ruined cardigan and shoving it into her bag. Sighing, she removes that favorite headband of hers, too.

Then she's cleaning her hair, glaring at her reflection as she wipes off all the milkshake stains that she can. Except for a spot of cherry syrup, clinging to her bottom lip. "Step one. Remove the pawn from the board." She hooks her backpack over her shoulder again, storming out the doors and marching through the halls straight to the principal's office. On the way, she remembers how everyone had laughed at her. Mocked her. Humiliated her. It's enough to make her start crying. Good.

"Principal Wingrave," she starts as soon as she enters the room, a sobbing mess with a seemingly busted lip. "It's just awful. Ripley Sloane snapped in the cafeteria. She started throwing food, and I got hit by something, and now I'm bleeding, and—" she pauses to wipe away a tear for dramatic effect. "I'm sorry, could we talk for a second? I really need to process how I feel right now." More than that, she knows that if they leave too soon, the only culprit they can drag down is Blondie. She wants the entire group.

Let's be honest. The food fight is inevitable.

She'll give the show time to start.