U KNOW WHAT I LIKE QUILLY
I GOT U GURL
Princess does not stare at Bubbles, okay.
It’s just that Bubbles has a tendency of trend-setting, of wearing something incredibly fashionable one day and then showing up all boho-hippie the next, and as an aficionado of fashion, Princess keeps an eye on one of the only girls in school with any sort of sense for it. Even if it’s not particularly her personal sense. But she knows a queen bee when she spots one. She’s one herself, after all.
It’s not that Princess is especially interested in the way Bubbles plays with her hair or anything. Or the way she sings. Or how she snorts when she laughs all cute. No. Blegh.
It’s. It’s just business, she tells herself, plain good business to keep an eye on competitors, especially competitors for attention. Like that smarmy dudebro jock who appears to be asking Bubbles to Prom with a dozen red roses. Princess snorts into her bento box. Who does crap like that? So cliché.
And yet, Princess notes as Bubbles nods and smiles and crinkles her nose as she hugs the guy, the classics aren’t exactly ineffective.
Then she remembers she’s not staring at Bubbles and goes back to her lunch.
