Amby’s strawberry-colored hair glinted brightly from the thin overhead lights. Her eyebrows seemed to be stuck to her nose in an everlasting scowl. Her dark eyes seemed to be emty pits in her face.
Isis winced as her eyes caught sight of her ghastly appearance. How could a girl like that be second-in-command to Miss Popularity? Tate wasn’t much prettier. Isis had already decided the only reason they were popular was because the beat their way to the top.
“Something wrong, Mirks?” Amby asked crossing her arms.
Adrenline flushed through Isis’s body. Her cheeks turned slightly red under her white skin. She couldn’t stand them. A deep hatred rose in her body like fire. She would probably get detention for being this late to art.
“She’s so screwed up she can’t even speak!” Tate sending Amby into fits of laughter.