Revenge is Best Served Sweet
After a long, unpleasant and preposterous meeting with the student council, who thought nothing of the well being of the students but only loved the power and popularity they gained from the position, I decided to skip violin practice and dumped my violin case into my locker, hopped on my bike and headed to my favourite cake shop, which sells the most amazing red velvet cupcakes that never fail to brighten my day. Those weekly meeting always ruin my mood. It’s been three weeks since the new girl joined school and I’m surprised she hasn’t reached a breaking point and left school yet. If it were me I wouldn’t survive a week. Her bag ripped to shreds, her house egged, her part time job’s boss called and bribed to fire her but good thing she got a job at the cake shop, it’s a nice place, I think she’s happy there, her uniform thrown into the muddy pit behind the school during gym class and well, the rest I’d rather not talk about. I feel bad, really bad. I’ve been trying to discuss a solution for it with the president and the rest of the student council but they really don’t seem to care. Now you must be thinking, why why would a new, average, normal student have to go through all this. Well, the reason is, because she’s average, she’s not like all the other students here who’s parents have their bank accounts loaded with money, who spoil their children to the point where they think they’re entitled to everything from everyone. I sigh and walk into the cake store and buy a box of the cupcakes and head home, sit on my couch and start to eat. Did they use Greek yogurt this time for the cream, it seems a little different I shrug it off and turn on the television to the news channel, there had been multiple deaths today, all in rather absurd ways and then i see familiar names, it takes me a moment to process and then it hits me. The members of the student council, the names were the members of the student council, my head reeled as I took another look at my cup cake and feel a sharp pain in my stomach, my head reeled and my throat burned I stumbled to the kitchen to get water but was too late I felt my body fall to the ground and then everything went black.
By Ilina Sarah Patnaik
A little about the writer in her own words:
My name is Ilina Sarah Patnaik, I’m 16 years old and currently learning speech and drama with Ms Neeva. I am an aspiring writer and hope to continue improving my writing with time.
