What's Wrong With Us?

How To Survive Your School's Social cliques

“Took you long enough—oh! Hey!” Ria’s eyes lit up as she spotted them, her grinning wide. In her excitement, she knocked her sketchbook onto the table with a thud, pages fluttering open.

But that warmth faltered when her eyes met Macky’s. The air between them shifted—quiet and tense. They're not really close like the others. Macky froze, her almond-brown eyes flickering with something fragile: maybe discomfort, definitely anxiety.

“Uh… sit down!” Ria said, snapping herself out of it and gesturing to the  seats with a forced cheeriness. Her eyes darted toward the oversized digital clock glowing across the cafeteria.

“Wait—what?! It’s already 12:30?!” she gasped, hands flying to her head in mock horror.

Reflex kicked in. The trio turned in perfect synchronization to check the time—only to realize they’d been played.

“Seriously, Ria?!” they groaned in unison.

Ria cackled, tossing her head back. “I had to! The opportunity was right there!”

They all sank into their seats, laughter rippling between bites of hot food and half-baked complaints. For a moment, it felt easy—four kids escaping the weight of everything outside that cafeteria.

Then the energy shifted. Fast.

Loxley strode into the cafeteria like a storm in human form, eyes burning with frustration. Their jaw was tight. Their energy? Absolutely feral. They scanned the room with the intensity of someone betrayed.

They hadn’t heard from Brielle in a week—no texts, no calls, not even a “wyd” meme. Just cold, unexplained silence.

“Bri! I just want to talk!” their voice cracked through the chatter, slicing the room in half.

All heads swiveled. The cafeteria stilled.

From the far side, Brielle rose slowly, voice loud and laced with venom. “I’m here, Manwhore!”

Gasps erupted. Silverware clattered. You could practically hear the popcorn popping as every student tuned in like it was peak TV.

“Oh? Is that my new superhero name now?” Ox quipped, a smirk tugging at the corner of their mouth, but there was a flicker—something sharper—hidden behind the sarcasm.

A thrill shimmered in their dark eyes as the students collectively leaned in, on the edge of their seats, waiting for Brielle to drop the next bomb.

She did.

Brielle squared her shoulders, voice slicing through the cafeteria’s silence. “You—you slept with my boyfriend!”

The words hit like a slap. Every head turned. Every breath held.

Ox’s smirk didn’t falter, not right away. “You mean your dusty-ass ex? The one who cheats like it’s his full-time job?”

A wave of “Oooohhh!” rippled across the crowd like a slow-motion explosion. Even the teachers stirred, whispers turning heads.

But Brielle wasn’t done. Not even close.

Her lips curled into a venomous smile. “That didn’t stop you from jumping into bed with him, though.”

And that—that—cracked something in Ox. The casual air vanished. Their voice sharpened, heat rising. “Your ex was already garbage, Bri! And you don’t get to ghost me, then spin the narrative like I’m the villain.”

Brielle stepped forward, slow and deliberate. “I’m done with him. He’s history. Ancient. Fossilized. And now? I’m done with you, too.”

Her voice trembled—not with rage, but with restraint. A hint of something deeper, messier. Jealousy. Hurt. Truth.