…about an enemy

Janie wasn’t sure what had started the feud with Megan Riley. They had been friends in grade school, living just down the block and across from each other since they were both four on the birthday they shared. But something changed.

Janie would often sit at her locker during lunch, whatever book she was reading balanced on her knees, and wonder what the jibe would be that day.

“Black jeans with the hole in the knee, it must be Friday,” sarcasm practically rained from above. Janie’s eyes traced up the stiletto-clad foot, passed the perfectly hairless, perfectly tanned leg to the edge of the too tight to breathe mini skirt to rest on the perfect face of her worst enemy.

“Actually, you can tell by the shoes,” Jamie replied, wiggling the Chucks with the hot rod flames on them. “Fridays are all about the fire.”

Megan rolled her eyes and clip-clopped off, her entourage streaming in her wake. The fire was Janie’s one weapon, that and her brain.

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