Kate's First Strike

Kate surveyed her kingdom from the vantage point of the cafeteria’s sun-drenched window, a kingdom built on whispered secrets and the shimmering edifice of popularity. Marcus Morrison, her Marcus, was currently holding court at a nearby table, a veritable sun around which lesser planets orbited. And then there was Laura Jacobs, a pale, unassuming comet that had inexplicably veered into Marcus’s gravitational pull. The dream. The *email*. It was still a raw, burning ember in Kate’s gut, a testament to Laura’s audacious, accidental invasion of her narrative.

“She’s *glowing*,” Kate murmured, her voice a silken threat. Billie, perched beside her, nervously picked at a stray crumb on her tray.

“Maybe she just got good sleep?” Billie offered weakly, her eyes darting between Kate’s tightened jaw and the distant, oblivious Laura.