Chapter Text
The thing about Regina is that, usually, she's at least 98% good at figuring out people.
Regina was a people-person in all definitions of the world. She was nice and kind and cared about everyone. She asked follow up questions and gave out compliments like they were candy.
In fact, she'd even give compliments to people who didn't deserve them—like that one dingy looking girl who was wearing the most God-awful ugly fucking skirt in the history of skirts.
Because she gets it. Everyone makes mistakes. Everyone deserves compassion.
And Regina George is nothing but compassionate.
Her friends love her. The school adores her. The boys worship the ground she walks on. Only miserable fucking creeps took time to hate her. Miserable skeezy skanks like Janis and that fat idiot whose name she didn't bother to remember.
(But even then, Regina knows that they're just insecure and hurting and taking it out on her because they need some type of control in their sad, pathetic lives. It's understandable—if she were them, she'd probably kill herself.)
Regina George was a people's person because she could figure anything out in a heartbeat.
And Regina George is, like, 98% sure that the loser in the back of the class has boogers for brains.
What was the loser's name? Rodger or Rodney or something ugly like that? What did he say to the class on his first day? Something about moving all the way from Plainsview, Whatever-Fugly-State to Glenbrooke? Failed the 12th grade so now he has to retake it here at North Shore High? Plays the drums for an "awesome band" named the Loaded Potato—or was it Nachoes?
Four facts he gave to the class in his black graphic tee that was far too wrinkled, and equally wrinkled denim jeans. He looked tall but he stood with a slouch and he kept looking at the teacher like he'd rather die than keep talking.
His hair looked like it never seen a brush and his backpack looked suspiciously light on his shoulders. His sneakers were disgustingly converses that probably had peeling soles and Regina could tell that he had disgusting cuticles.
And that was all she needed to know to figure out exactly who he was:
a loser.
And not the good kind of loser, that would probably grow up to be a billionaire after college—but like, the bad kind of loser, like hopeless kind of loser, like eating square cheese and sniffing crack in a cardboard box with only his drumsticks to keep him happy kind of loser.
That seemed about right for the most part.
He slept in the back of the class and did anything he could to avoid cold-call reading. He didn't turn in any of his homework and he once came into class 30 minutes late looking like a wreck and smelling Snoop Dogg's limo.
When Mr. Callaghan asked Ricky (or is it Roger?) where he was coming from, he simply giggled and said "wouldn't you like to know?" before throwing an arm over his shoulder. It earned him a detention.
What a loser.
But maybe public humiliation was his thing, because it didn't stop him from doing the most embarrassing shit ever.
Like staring at Regina and puckering his lips with a wink.
Or staring at her like he was trying to imagine her naked.
Or like, now, with Regina at her locker with Gretchen and Karen, only for the big doofus to lean against the locker next to hers.
"Hey baby cake," he said with the sleaziest fucking smirk on his face and Regina felt her bones cringe. She ignored him, the way she always did, and stared into her locker mirror with her lip gloss in tow.
"Oh God," Gretchen groaned for her. "Don't you realize that Regina doesn't like you." And then Gretchen stared at Regina, like she was waiting for a gold star.
Regina twisted the top of the lipgloss off instead.
"I'm not talking to you Toaster Strudel," he snapped at her. Gretchen gasped in offense and Regina carefully applied the lip gloss to her lips to stop herself from laughing.
He returned his attention back to Regina. "Y'know, you remind me a lot of my ex, Heather Hills. Super hot—God, she was so hot."
Regina eyed him up and down with disgust. Then she returned to packing up her back.
His eyes widened. "But you're hotter! Like sooo much hotter than her."
Karen sniffed awkwardly. Regina fixed her mascara.
"Anyway." Roland—it was Roland right?—cleared his throat. "We dated cos I'm a professional musician, ya know? Drummer." He proceeded the play the air drums, making dramatic noises. Regina almost felt bad for him.
"Oh what's your band's name?" Karen asked sweetly.
"Loaded Diaper."
Oh. It wasn't Loaded Nachos? Huh. Somehow the name was worse.
"That's gross," Gretchen practically gagged.
Ryland rolled his eyes. "It's rock and roll. Pfft, you wouldn't understand." She felt his gaze adjust back to her. "Anyway, sugarplum. Have you ever been with a musician? My band's back at home, but I still got my drums. If you waaaannnnttt, I can sneak you into my room and I can play the drums for you."
Regina scoffed, screwing the mascara top back on before adjusting her purse. Sneaking into his house? In what universe would that ever happen?
Maybe her lack of response made him brazen, because he continued with, "And then we can watch a movie afterwards. The Notebook, I know you chicks dig The Notebook. Or we can keep it as background noise and-"
"Let's go ladies," she said calmly. She shouldered her purse, slammed the locker hard enough that Reggie flinched, and began to walk away. Gretchen and Karen followed.
"Bye Angel Face!" Richard—God, she couldn't remember his name—shouted down the hall.
"What a freak show," Gretchen grumbled.
Gretchen had that one thing right.
He was a loser.
But that was irrelevant at the moment.
What was relevant was that it a Thursday night and Regina George had a date.
Brady was some guy on the lacrosse team with big arms and a hot face. They made out a shit ton of times, but this time he wanted to take her to the movies to watch something.
Regina was pretty sure he just wanted to fuck in a movie theater—or maybe he actually liked her and wanted to get to know her.
Hmm.
Regina kind of just wanted to fuck him in a movie theater.
So she threw on her Baby Phat pink tank—the one with the cute rhinestone bow in the middle that she absolutely had to get—and low-rise Abercrombie jeans that made her legs look delicious. Cute kitten heels with a white cropped hoodie and Louis Vuitton mini shoulder purse.
"Regina, you are so hot," she muttered to herself, adjusting her blonde fringe. "Hotter than Heather Hills...if she's even a real person."
She snickered at her joke. Regina was the funniest person she knew.
The phone rang and she answered it.
"Hello?"
"Heyyyy it's Brady. I'll pick you up in 5."
Regina giggled. "Okay, see you."
Finally, the hardest part of the night:
Sneaking out the house.
Ugh.
Regina walked down the stairs, casually, as if she had no idea that her mom was sitting on the couch, reading a tabloid. That's all the woman ever did nowadays—reading whatever those stupid tabloids said.
The cover of the one she was reading asked, "will Ashlee Simpson ever get a nose job?" Poor Ashlee—she'd probably be hotter than Regina if she'd get that snout fixed.
Her mom looked up, dog in her lap. "Where do you think you're going?"
Regina rolled her eyes, going for the door. "Hanging out with Gretchen and Karen—"
"No no no-" her mom jumped up and rushed towards the door. Regina rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. There was no way she was about to do this.
"No. I told you, you're grounded until college. No hanging out with those girls unless they're here or at school."
"Ugh, mom. We're going to be in Gretchen's house, studying. Am I not allowed to study?"
"Study over the phone!" Her mom frowned. "Look, I am doing this strict parenting thing whether you like it or not. Imagine how I feel! Apparently drinking around your kids is bad parenting—I'm still trying to figure out how."
"Are you sober?" Regina asked with a sigh.
Her mom bit her lip sheepishly.
Regina rolled her eyes and heard a honk. "Look I've got to go," Regina snapped, pushing past her mom to head to the convertible outside. Her mom was saying whatever she was trying to say, but Regina couldn't care less.
She was only human.
Where's the compassion?
It seemed like such a rarity these days.
"Hey gorgeous," Brady called, leaning against his BMW convertible.
Regina skipped over and he grabbed her face, leaning to give her a kiss. What the fuck? She pulled a way, sneering her nose. "Brady. My lip gloss."
He blinked. "What about it?"
Why was everyone so stupid?
She simply stared at the door, and Brady took that as a hint to open the door. She smiled. At least he had some brain cells left.
The movie theater smelled like burning butter and tacky carpet. Brady bought their tickets and led them to the back of the theater. It was hardly packed—a couple in the front and some freaky looking old guy in the corner, a few scattered individuals.
Regina already hated this.
"What this movie even about?" She asked, not really caring.
Brady turned to her, popcorn in his mouth. She grimaced as he said with a full mouth—"uh...I don't know."
"What are we watching?"
"...I don't know."
She blinked. "What?"
"Just kinda told the teller to recommend something."
And then he shoveled more popcorn into his mouth. She stared at him. He offered her some popcorn. Regina stared at the sexy idiot and felt like blowing up the theater.
The movie started—for some reason, the teller had a little recommended a sci-fi movie with bad actors and even worse visual effects.
Why wasn't Brady trying to make a movie? Regina was sitting there, pretty and patient, waiting for him to touch her thigh or something. Why else would she be here—to genuinely enjoy a movie with him?
She twisted her body towards him a bit, and smiled, brushing her hair out of her face. If she tilted her body at just the right angle, her tits would pucker into a seductive cleavage, and Brady would have no choice but to touch them.
Or maybe, if she puckered her lips just a bit, just enough so that he saw how full and lucious and pink they were, he'd feel graced by the awe of her presence and beg to kiss her.
Or fucking—something.
Brady simply shoveled more popcorn into his mouth. His fingers were damp with butter and kernels. He glanced at her and whispered, "I think there's an alien in the ship."
Regina frowned.
"Why should I care?"
He stared at her for a moment. "...because it's integral to the entire ploooottttt?...are you confused, or something?"
This was fucking hopeless.
Regina dropped her chin into her palm and glared at the screen.
God. This was wretched. Wretched and awful. A waste of a pretty girl's time.
They should be making out. So what if the old geezbag saw? So what if they ended up getting kicked out of the theater. Who cared? Why—why wasn't anything happening.
Not that she was bored, or anything. Why would Regina be bored? Her life was perfect.
She was the most popular girl in school and she was hot in every way possible. She was rich and fabulous and could have anyone and anything.
Then what—what was this?
What was this?
The movie ended and Regina stormed out. Brady followed behind her with confused shouts as they made it out into the parking lot. The sun had already set over Old Orchard Mall and now the sky was a deep blue. The air felt brisk with that early fall chill, and she certainly hadn't dressed for it.
Regina was too hot for this.
"What's your problem?"
"What are we doing after this?" She huffed, tapping her leg restlessly.
Brady looked so confused, and it pissed Regina off more.
"Well?"
"I mean...was the movie not good."
"Brady, I'd literally rather stapled my eyelids shut than watch that again."
Brady winced. "Harsh."
"I don't care."
Brady ran his hands through his messy brown hair and tried to think of a solution. "Well, maybe we can go back to my place, y'know." And then he smirked, taking a step towards her.
"And do what? Have sex and talk about our feelings for each other?" Regina rolled her eyes and scoffed.
Brady's mouth was agape. "Is that such a bad thing?"
"No it's not a bad thing," she said with a smile. Brady sighed. "It's an awful thing."
His smile fell.
Regina threw her hands up in defeat and glared at the sky. "Ugh! This is a waste of my night. I could've been doing literally anything else."
And it wasn't like she could stay at the mall and shop until she dropped. Her mom still had her credit cards, in this weird attempt to be a better parent and punish her for some reason.
God, it was like the universe was punishing her.
"Should I take you home?"
Regina glared at Brady. "No. I don't even want to look at your face."
Brady looked a little irritated, furrowing his bushy eyebrows. "So what are you gonna do? Walk home? In those heels."
And it sounded like a challenge, so Regina began to walk.
"You're being ridiculous, Regina, what the fuck?" He shouted.
She threw her middle finger up at him.
That seemed to end the entire exchange.
Except now Regina was beginning to regret accepting the challenge.
Her house was a good distance from the mall, and it was dark out. Pretty girls like her shouldn't be walking late at nights
(Also, Regina tried to avoid walking long distances or else her baby-soft soles would harden. Like she was one of the blue-collar chicks who couldn't afford pedicures or something.
God, why was her life so hard?)
She walked through the parking lot of the mall and to her surprise, Brady wasn't following her. Weird. This was supposed to be the part where he followed her with his car, insisting that she got in. Why wasn't he doing that.
Or maybe he was. Which meant that Regina would have to turn her head to check. But that would show him that she wanted the attention. She couldn't seem desperate.
What to do, what to do-
"Date gone wrong, Babycake?"
Regina froze.
No. Actual. Way.
She turned her head to the direction of the voice.
For some reason, the sight of Ronald letting his feet dangle out of a crusty ass white van, with a huge burger in his hand, sauce on his face, and used nasty napkin fluttering beneath the can was incredibly jarring.
He had a stupid smile on his face and he was slurping from a big soda cup. Then, he let out a disgusting belch that made Regina grimace in distaste.
"Are you stalking me, you fucking freak?" She shrieked, storming towards him. "This is already weird enough at school, why are you following me-"
"Relax," he grunted, adjusting himself on the ledge of the seat. His van smelled like axe body spray, armpits, and sweat. The back of it was filled with all types trash and clutter. "I was just getting something eat. Then I saw you and that doofus arguing and thought: 'well this is some good entertainment.'"
"Don't you have a sewer to go crawl back into?" She sneered.
Rodrick grinned, leaning forward. And then, in this stupid ridiculous shrilly voice, "I'd rather staple my eyelids shut and get hit by oncoming traffic than see your tiny little wiener again-"
"I do not sound like that," she shouted, her face beginning to burn from the growing irritability she was starting to feel. "And I did not say that, you—you dingus."
But Ryland just had to continue. "Now I'm gonna leave and find a real bad boy who can take care of me."
Regina raised an eyebrow. "Am I supposed to be staring at the real bad boy?"
His smile kind of dropped a bit, like he wasn't expecting that. "I am a real bad boy."
"No. What you are is a scene-reject with dry hair, bad hygiene, a fupa." That fully made him frown. That frown fully made her smile. "Now if you ever stalk me again I will literally have your whole entire miserable life ruined."
"Jeez," R...R—hmm, she was running out of R names to give him....Roach!—Roach whispered, and it almost sounded like he was in awe. "I'll take whatever you give me."
Regina wrinkled her nose, a bad taste forming in her mouth. "You perv."
"Nuh uh," Roach sang, before taking the last bite of his probably cold burger. He crumpled up the wrapper and threw it into the back of his van. "I am just very appreciative of hot chicks," he argued, except his mouth was full and Regina could see all the wet chunks mushing around.
"You're gross. Goodbye."
And then she spun on her heel and began to walk. It vaguely occurred to her that that was the first time she actually talked to him. Hopefully no one saw that, or else he'd drag her down to his loser depths.
"Let me take you home!" He shouted from afar.
"I'd rather get a massage with a cheese grater than get in that funk fest," she retorted sharply. "Stop talking to me."
"You can't seriously I'm gonna let you walk home in those heels at 9:30pm."
"Leave me alone!"
"Well...suit yourself!"
Regina froze, blinking once. Then twice. Some guys were loitering in front of the Macy's and stared at her with those familiar hungry eyes she was used to. If she really needed the help, she could ask them to take her home.
...fuck this.
She spun around and stormed over to Roach, a glare tight on her face. He raised his hands up in defeat.
"Fine. You're taking me home. But do not talk to me, and do not play that God awful music you people like."
Roach snickered. "Oh Princess." Regina scoffed at the name and kind of wanted to punch him. "My van, my rules."
And then he leaped out of the van and slid the door shut with a startling loud thud. It was then did she notice the messy black paint on the side of the van spelling: Löded Diper.
He opened the side door and let his hand out to help her get in. The smell of old socks and cheap cologne pummeled out and she gagged. God, what was she doing? With defeat resting on her shoulders, she sighed, took his greasy hand, and climbed into the seat.
"You won't regret it!" He shouted gleefully. "I'm the safest driver I know."
Regina truly regretted it. She saw the van practically tumbling into the school's parking lot with gas pummeling out of the back and thought that Roach needed his licenses revoked.
He slammed the door shut and she sat uncomfortably in the van as she waited for him to get into the driver seat and pull off. He got situated, turned the car on, ensuing loud rock and roll from the radio that made her recoil.
And then—
Nothing.
Just a rumbling van and the two of them sitting in a parking lot.
"Why aren't you driving, idiot?" She asked slowly through gritted teeth.
"Well, Princess," Roach said in an equally slow cadence. "Rodrick's not sure where your castle is."
Rodrick. So that was his name.
Regina stared at him long and hard. "With the way you're stalking me, I truly in my heart doubt that."
Rodrick—Regina kind of thought Roach was more fitting—puffed up his cheeks and pursed his lips, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Finally, he put the van into drive and began to take off down a familiar route.
She rolled her eyes. "Creep."
Rodrick rolled his eyes. "I'm new to the area. I was just driving around, find any important landmarks."
"And my house is one of them."
"Look, do you want to get home or not?" Rodrick deadpanned.
Regina sighed and glared out the window. Rodrick took to humming along to the song that was playing. For some reason, he was doing a really good job at driving like he wasn't a fucking maniac.
When the explosive guitar and bad drumming became unbearable, Regina reached for his radio. He swatted her hand away and she gasped. "Change the song!"
"No!" He shouted back, shooting a sharp glare at her. "What would I even change it to? Brittney Spears?"
"She's better than whatever this crap is!"
This time it was Rodrick's turn to gasp dramatically. "This is Green Day."
"And this is my I-Don't-Care face." She proceeded to stare blankly at him.
Rodrick sighed. "This town has no taste. You guys probably have the worst parties."
"Well, I'm sorry no one's shooting up heroin in the bathrooms."
"Right, because coke is any better."
"I don't snort coke."
"I didn't say you did," Rodrick said. "And no one shoots you heroin in the bathroom, what the fuck?"
"So what do you people do at your parties?" Regina asked, raising an eyebrow. "Summon Satan?"
"Summon—y'know what, yeah, we do. Because that's hardcore. Unlike you softies, we actually know how to have fucking fun."
"Yeah whatever." Regina knew how to have fun. Regina was very fun. Everyone went to the parties she threw, everyone wanted to hang out with her, everyone knew that Regina was the life of the party.
Fun. Regina knew how to have fun.
"Right after I'm done dropping you off, I'm going to a party," Rodrick suddenly admitted. "Where I'm gonna get shitfaced and have a fucking blast."
"It's a Thursday night. We have quiz in the morning."
"That would never stop me from having fun, Princess," Rodrick replied.
"Stop calling me that," Regina grumbled.
A party? On a Thursday night? These people were crazier than she gave them credit for.
But the neighborhood began to look neater, the white picket fences up, and Regina knew that once she got home she'd get into an argument with her mom. And that would cause a whirlwind of emotions that Regina didn't feel like getting into.
And it wasn't that she was bored. Why would she bored?
But...
"Take me to your little party."
"What?" Rodrick's eyebrows shot to the top of face.
"The party you're going to?" She snapped. She hated repeating herself. "Take me so I can decide for myself if it's fun or not."
Rodrick stopped at a red light and stared her up and down. "Uhm...no offense. It's not really...your scene." And then he motioned to her outfit.
"I want to go, so take me. Geez, what's the big deal? And if I hate it, I'll just key your van and then you can take me home."
Rodrick stared at her. Regina stared back. He had a beauty mark next to his eyebrow, she noticed. Someone honked, and they jumped, realizing it was a green light now.
"Hold onto something."
"What-"
Before Regina could finish her sentence, Rodrick spun his wheel aggressively and pulled the van into a U-Turn that caused horns to blare. She screamed and gripped the bottom of the seat, her hair dropping into her face.
"Rodrick!"
"One party, coming right up!"
And then they sped off into the night.
—
Regina heard the music from a block away and watched two people go streaking down the block with a crowd cheering them on. When they saw Rodrick's ugly van pull into the street, they cheered, much to Regina's surprise.
"Rodrick! You made it," a guy said next to Rodrick's window with a stupid haircut and beer on his breath. He noticed Regina and gave her a sleazy look. "And I dee brought someone with you."
"Get lost, freak," Regina snapped.
The guy laughed. "Oh she's feisty. I like her."
"Yeah, well she's off limits, Derek," Rodrick said sternly.
Derek yelled to the crowd: "Rodrick brought his girlfriend with him."
Regina's face positively burned. "I am not his girlfriend!"
"Try not to sound too excited," Rodrick sassed, before turning off the van and jumping out. He helped Regina out, and she stared at the messy house in front of them.
Rock music was playing loudly inside the house, and it seemed to be a large gathering of people drinking and dancing and smoking and making out.
Rodrick grabbed Regina's hand, and she yelped, pulling her hand away. He rolled his eyes. "Stick with me, Princess."
"Stop calling me that."
"Then stop acting like one."
He wiggled his fingers. Regina realized, vaguely, she had no control anymore, and took his sweaty hand. He used that to walk her into the house.
It was packed with sweaty bodies, heat, and the smell of literally everything. As they walked in, people recognized Rodrick and cheered him on, before giving Regina an odd look. They all dressed like him—dark clothes, dark hair, band tees and piercings. She was the only odd one out, with her blonde hair and pink clothes.
But she could admit, the energy was palpable. People were screaming and laughing and there was something about not knowing what could happen that had her veins pulsing with a strange buzz.
"Rodrick, you came!"
Rodrick let go of Regina's hand to give some Janis lookalike a hug. In fact, she looked so much like a bootleg Janis, that Regina couldn't help by glare at her. She was probably just like Janis—weird and gay and annoying-
"Is that your real hair color?" The chick suddenly asked Regina.
"Of course it is," she scowled, grabbing her blonde hair. She'd never admit that she had it touched up to be extra blond. Could the bitch notice? It was none of her fricking business—
"I love it!" She said suddenly, smiling huge. She had a smiley piercing.
Oh.
"This is Hana," Rodrick said, "the host of this party."
"What's your name, Barbie?" Hana asked.
Regina stared at her. "Regina."
Hana suddenly grabbed a drink and stood on the table. "Everyone! Yo! Everyone!" Regina stared at her in shock as she got everyone's attention. "Everybody clap for fucking Regina!"
And then she pointed at Regina.
That caused a commotion of cheers.
People rushed towards Regina, passing her drinks and spinning her around. "I FUCKING LOVE YOU REGGIE!" Someone screamed.
Regina couldn't stop the shock she was feeling, quickly trying to down the drinks people were passing her. She made eye contact with Rodrick, who was leaning against the wall with his own drink in his hand. He raised an eyebrow, gave her a cheer, and took a sip with a mischievous smirk.
The party started back up, Hana pulled Regina up on a table, and began dancing with her.
There was so much fucking happening, her head was whirling.
"Cmon, pretty girl, don't tell me you can't dance."
"Of course I can dance," Regina shouted over the music. And the music, despite being that godawful genre, didn't sound all that bad with alcohol sloshing in her stomach. She slowly began to move her hips and shoulders and feet until eventually she was dancing with Hana on the table giggling excitedly.
She lost track of time, lost track of the drinks entering her system. Regina had been looking for this—for the buzz and thrill shaking her veins and burning her up with fire. She was at an impromptu party with people she'd never be caught dead with and she was having fun. Whipping her hair back and forth, shotgunning drinks, laughing until her stomach hurt.
She found Rodrick again, who looked blasted. "Told you this was fun!"
Regina wasn't sure why his neck looked so inviting, and why he looked oh so pretty under the purple limelight's, or why she even threw her arms over his shoulders. "I'm having sooooo much fun," she slurred out a laugh.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah! I don't wanna leave."
"Then don't leave, Princess!" Rodrick said in her ear. "Stay with me."
And that was the last thing Regina heard before the sound of an alarm began to blare.
Regina jolted awake before grimacing in pain, her head and body pounding. "Oh—fuck!"
What day was it? She smacked her alarm clock to see Friday, 7am. What happened? Her breath tasted stale and her eyes were twitching.
What happened?
She slowly tried to get out of bed, just to trip over her kitten heels and land onto a pile of clothes on the floor. She groaned and looked up to see the mirror in front of her.
Regina looked a mess.
Her hair was stringy, face red and blotchy, mascara staining her eyes. Her tank top was stained and she had on her panties still. She slowly got up, confused.
Why the fuck was she half-naked in bed? Why was she so hungover. Why-
"Rodrick." She hissed.
Bits and pieces from the night came flood in, choppy and odd. A bottle spinning. The van. A neon open sign. Laughter, so much laughter.
How did he even get her back into her room. Did she sneak in? What was happening?
Regina smelled like shit. She needed to fucking shower and try to sort out her thoughts.
She stumbled up, and walked past the mirror to grab her towel.
Something caught her eye.
Slowly, she walked back into the mirror, horror beginning to settle on her chest at the sight.
"No...fucking...way."
Slowly, she angled her body in the mirror to see the dark mark on her butt. Her shaky fingers tapped and pain flared up her body,
Her eyes went big. Her heart was hammering.
Regina screamed.
Because on her butt was black ink that spelled in sloppy handwriting:
Rodrick's Gurl.