Chapter Text
Frida Kahlo was the shit.
She was the type of girl who never answered to anyone and never let anything shake her. She broke rules, and thus practically rewrote them because, well, who was gonna check her? Skating in the halls(a very suspendable offense) became her thing, and even the strictest of teachers found themselves impressed by the teen’s nonchalant confidence. After her first semester at Clone High, there was a small exclamation that began lingering in the halls: “Frida Kahlo is the shit!”
Therefore, when Clone High’s former queen Cleopatra began to roam the halls once again, it would be an understatement to call her bitter.
A huge understatement.
At any possible opportunity, she would find small ways to heckle and express her frustration about the smaller girl’s popularity. After all, back in 2003, she was the one basking in the glory of highschool social approval. She was at the top of the food chain, and losers like Frida could only wish to catch a glimpse. Not only was Cleo extremely, and I mean extremely, attractive, she worked for her status. After all, who was better at playing marionette than her? People would move as she wished if she batted her eyes a little, and if she asked them to jump they’d probably ask “how high?”.
She slammed her locker at the thought of her fallen crown. Even as she began to walk to second period, barely anyone stopped to stare at her unattainable beauty. It was almost as if people stopped valuing looks, and actually placed importance on people’s personalities.
It was fucking ridiculous.
Taking a seat, Cleo placed her head down on her desk and stifled an exasperated groan. Lost in the angst of her pain and anguish, she barely noticed the sound of wheels that stopped at the desk next to hers.
“What’s good, Cleo?” Cleo’s eye twitched as she raised her head, coming face-to-face with her least favorite person in the school. Which was hard, because she hated a lot of people. She instantly broke eye contact and looked away from Frida in disgust. The girl shrugged and sat down, placing her multi-colored shoes up on the desk.
“Not having a good day, Pat?” She inquired, still trying to make conversation. Cleopatra whipped her head towards the girl, looking as if she had discovered a gnarly piece of gum on the bottom of her shoe.
“Can I ask why you think you can talk to me?” She quipped, placing her arms over her chest. Instead of looking hurt, Frida only laughed, which continued to fuel the fire of Cleo’s anger.
“You know…” Frida started, casually making a beat on her desk, “There’s a party at Harriet’s tonight. Just wanted to ask you if you’re pulling up.”
Barely noticing that Cleo looked as if she was about to explode, she added a “Your highness.” with a lazy smile.
Cleo pulled her lips into a thin line after the snide comment. Who did this girl think she was, making a dig at her former glory? She would show her. She would show them all.
“No, I will not be “pulling up”.” She snapped, flicking her silky black mane in the other girl’s face. Frida opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted as the teacher finally decided to waltz in. Cleo took that as an opportunity to fully turn her body away from Frida and the eagle wings she had on her face, not hearing the small sigh that escaped the other girl. Harriet, however, snapped her head dramatically at the noise and gasped.
She poked her best friend’s back, surprised at the break in her usual “chill” persona. “Girl, did you just sigh? I haven’t heard you sigh since you got your heart broken in a million pieces by that one- WAIT!”
Frida swatted Hariett’s hand away bashfully, while the other girl continued to whisper excitedly in her ear. “Oh my god, you have a crush. Who is it?! Is it Catherine?”
“No, it’s not fuckin’ Catherine,” Frida sighed, before quietly gasping. “It’s not anyone. I don’t have a crush. You.. you have a crush!” The bell rang, and before Harriet could say another word, Frida jumped on her skateboard and far, far away from her pink-haired friend.
As well as far, far away from any weird feelings she had been developing lately. Which was bogus, because she didn't have any weird feelings. But if she did, she would be skating far, far away from them.
Hah.
–
After eating lunch with a few nobodies that she hoped wouldn’t try to call themselves her friends, Cleo had a great idea. The best idea, really.
It’s not like she wanted to go to Harriet’s loser-infested party, but she knew that being friends with the most popular girl in school definitely had its perks. Since she was friends with Frida, Frida’s friends would come to the party, and so would their friends. It was likely that practically the whole school would be there, and where would be a better place to try and regain her popularity than a shallow highschool party full of a bunch of drunk teens? All she had to do was show up looking extra good, and the whispers about her would turn into people bowing at her feet again. Plus, she’s always been a party girl, and who would be better to show a bunch of losers how to have a good time than her? It was practically charity work.
When she got home from school, she turned on the lights to the dark hallway. Her foster mom wasn’t home, as usual, and she wasn’t really complaining. She saw a paper bag with a note on it that said “food”, and tossed the whole thing in the trash.
She didn’t want anything her foster mom had to offer. It was a long story.
Going up the winding staircase, she opened the door to her room and immediately sat down in front of her gold-encrusted vanity. She opened up a makeup compact and began to powder her face, re-mattifying her makeup. Pursing her lips, she twisted open a new lipstick and dotted it across her perfectly-shaped lips before patting it even with her ring finger. It was a nude color, different from her usual red but equally as flattering.
She stood up and posed in front of her mirror, obviously pleased by the quick touch-up. She pulled her white tank over her head and threw it on the floor, ogling herself in the mirror. Damn, her tits were huge. That used to be enough to make her plenty popular back in the day.
She decided on a low cut form-fitting black top, and an extra short pair of shorts that shaped her curves just right. Cleo added a slight curl to her hair, and replaced her usual big hoops with a smaller, more sensible hoop. Placing a couple of bracelets onto her wrists, she finished the look by slipping her feet into her usual platform sandals.
Damn, she looked good.
After having her fifth pose session in the mirror, she grabbed a black mini-bag that had been hanging from her closet door knob and headed out the door.
She was ready to make the students of Clone High regret retiring her as their queen.
…is what she thought, but everyone’s attention was obviously elsewhere by the time she arrived. There wasn’t even anyone available to open the door for her, and couples everywhere were busy grinding against the walls and on each other to even notice her presence.
Unsurprisingly, even Joan was getting hot and heavy with JFK in the corner of the room. Eugh, that was always weird to see. Behind them, she saw an annoying figure leaning against the wall. It was Frida, who was getting chummy with some brunette that Cleo didn’t recognize. She laughed at something the girl said, playing with the sleeves of her undershirt. She was wearing a new white and black striped long sleeve with a dark blue graphic tee on top, and a pair of black baggy ripped jeans.
It didn’t look bad. That irritated Cleo. So did the way that she was giving so much attention to some nobody, even after Cleo had graced the room with her presence. She decided on grabbing a random bottle of liquor on the counter next to her, and took a huge swig before heading over there.
When Frida noticed the black-haired girl making her way over, she nearly stumbled against the wall she was situated against. Swearing under her breath, she repositioned herself before Cleo could notice her extreme awkwardness.
“Uh, hey Cleo. Thought you were too cool for us,” she smirked, gesturing her hand across the room.
Cleo crossed her arms and pointedly broke eye contact with the short girl. “Yeah, whatever, I decided that it would be a disservice to my community if I didn’t show up.” Frida just ogled her as she continued, obviously taken-aback by the new outfit that Cleo was working. Like, really working. “Like, seriously, a party without me? You guys would’ve been doomed.”
“You got that right,” Frida whispered, jumping when Cleo turned to face her fully. Was it getting hot in here?
Cleo, on the other hand, was definitely feeling that “shot” she had taken earlier. The room felt fuzzier than before, and something about Frida felt.. Different.
“You know, you don’t look half bad in this lighting,” Cleo mused, stepping closer to the girl that she had been shit-talking for the past month. She leaned her arm against the wall on the side of Frida’s head, practically pinning her to the wall she was standing on.
Frida was now sweating. “Uh… what..?” Cleo smiled.
“Yeah, like, I don’t know…” She lowered a hand onto Frida’s shoulder, and ran it down her arm before she started playing with the bottom of the other girl’s sleeve. “I like this.”
Frida was not sweating, no, she was definitely turning into a puddle. Was Cleo flirting with her? There was no way Cleo was flirting with her.
She averted her eyes from the girl and her very well-fitting top, and made eye contact with Harriet. The pink-haired girl’s jaw dropped, and she immediately panicked and bumped into Joan, who then turned her head towards Frida and Cleo as well. She threw herself away from JFK, and looked over at Harriet in disbelief.
Frida, now with an audience, slipped under Cleo’s arm and ran upstairs without a word. Cleo gasped, and watched as Harriet and Joan followed Frida up the stairs.
Fuck.
–
“You have a crush on Cleo!?” Harriet’s voice boomed across the upstairs hallway, and Frida immediately placed a hand over her mouth.
“Man, shut up, no! She just… I don’t know, she just randomly started coming on to me!”
“Frida…” Joan started as a deep frown began to form on her face. “Cleo’s bad news. I mean, I seriously don’t think that girl’s ever had good intentions in her life.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard the stories about her..” Frida shrugged off, obviously irritated by the bad-mouthing. Joan sighed and put her hands on her hips as Harriett interjected.
“Really, Cleo? I didn’t think that her type was… your type.” She rubbed her neck, before thinking back on Frida’s past crushes. “I mean, you’re usually into artsy types like… you.”
“Well maybe it was time for a change,” She snapped, obviously shocking Harriet. Immediately, she placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder apologetically. “My bad, man. I’m just… riled up. Can I get a drink, and we talk about this later?”
Harriet looked at Frida’s desperate smile and glanced over at Joan, who shrugged. She groaned, and turned back to her friend. “Fine, okay, fine. But we’re talking about this later.” Frida squeezed her shoulder before making a beeline to the stairs, quickly sliding down the railing and landing on the floor beneath her. She greeted a couple people who were near the stairs, and gave a random buddy of hers a high-five before making her way over to the alcohol. She was planning on abstaining tonight, but after what happened earlier she needed more than just a shot.
Scanning the bottles, she decided to play bartender and mix some vodka with a brown tequila. She figured she’d probably regret mixing light and dark liquor in the morning, but she needed to be drunk. Immediately.
–
“Yeah, man! Do a flip!” Frida laughed with a crowd as Abe Lincoln of all people got on her board and decided that he was going to do a kickflip off the stair railing. She had successfully gotten drunk and managed to run away from Joan and Harriet for the night, and got her mind off of a beautiful bronze goddess who had been playing with her shirt earlier.
Tall, beautiful, bronze goddess with dark medium-length hair and killer legs-
Shit.
She shook her head before continuing to cheer and whoop with the people who surrounded Abe, who was obviously drunk with tear-stains running down his face after probably crying to himself about Joan.
“Come on abe-irino, you got this!” Right after she had said it, the gangly man ended up busting his ass, ending up in an extremely awkward position. Was his neck supposed to look like that? Whistling, she walked away from the chaos and saw Harriet, who she forgot she was supposed to be avoiding. She ran up on her and threw an arm around her shoulder, nearly knocking the drink out of her friend’s hand, who raised an amused eyebrow at her.
“Damn, I’m trying to be as drunk as you,” she laughed, before finishing off the drink she was holding in her hand. She tossed it into a nearby trash can before cheering at her good shot, and looked over at Frida with a goofy smile.
“Hey, let’s grab a group and play truth or dare, like old times?” Frida raised her unibrow, remembering how… wild their games of truth or dare get. However, she was definitely too drunk to really think too hard about it, since she agreed and gathered up some of their friends. In the process, she noticed Cleo in the corner talking to a banged-up Abe. She felt a twinge in her chest.
Was it jealousy? She didn’t know. She knew they used to be exes, but also knew that Abe was way too obsessed with Joan to switch interest like that… right? With a huff, she grabbed a clear cup and poured a little bit too much liquor, and downed it in one gulp before sitting down in a circle with her friends.
“JFK, truth or dare?” Harriet declared, impatiently waiting for his response. He smiled goofily, his arm situated around Joan’s shoulder.
“I- Uh, DAREE!” He jumped up, ready for whatever was gonna be thrown at him.
Harriett smiled mischievously. “I dare you and Joan to take body shots!” Joan choked, suddenly flustered.
“Um, right here…?” She blushed, pushing her red hair behind her ear. JFK whooped, ripping his shirt off while Confucious laughed and handed him a bottle of whiskey. He poured it on himself, making eyes at his bashful girlfriend. Smirking, she made her way over to him and began to… go to town.
“Hey guys, I don’t think you have to go that far-” Harriet interjected, watching as they stumbled into each other’s mouths and into a nearby bathroom.
“Guess we lost two,” Frida mused, a small smirk on her face. A hand landed on her shoulder, and she looked up to see Cleo looking down at her, Abe at her side.
“Well, here’s two more.” She was slurring, and Frida couldn’t help but glance up at the tall girl’s cleavage.
What?! It looked at her first.
“Ha, alright…” Frida smirked, making space for the two of them next to her. She was glad for the extra alcohol she had ingested. Whilst the room was spinning slightly, she definitely needed the liquid courage to be next to her crus- next to Cleo right now.
Harriet made eye contact with Frida, and then with Cleo, an innocent smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“Alright, why not?” She focused her attention on Cleo, and for some reason, Frida had a bad feeling. “Cleo, truth or dare?”
Cleo thought about it for a moment. She could take the easy way out and say truth, but that’s never really been her style. “Dare,” she grinned, tilting her head. Frida was sweating again. Maybe it was just all that cheap vodka she had downed seeping out of her pores.
“Hm.. I dare you and Frida to spend 7 minutes in heaven. Well, in that closet over there.” She gestured towards an-almost empty closet with only a few coats in it, and Frida spluttered.
“What?! Dude, that’s like, the wrong game!” Harriet only laughed, pulling her friend up by the arm and pushing her near Cleo, who was standing up with a smug look on her face. She looked up at the girl, who had her hands on her hips.
“What? You scared, Kahlo?” She teased, causing Frida’s face to turn a bright red.
“Pshh, nah.” She paused. “I’ve totally uh, done this before. Yeah. Let’s go.” She practically ran towards the closet, trying to ignore the fact that the woman of her dreams was following her into an extremely tight closed space.
Cleo closed the door behind them, and suddenly Frida wished she had not taken that extra shot. Instinctually, she backed up against the wall and watched closely as Cleo approached her slowly. She leaned against the wall next to her, and Frida got deja vu from earlier.
“So…” Cleo started, licking her lips. Damn. “Is this okay?” She asked, placing a perfectly-manicured hand on Frida’s neck. The shorter girl gulped, but didn’t break eye-contact.
“Yeah…” she whispered, placing her hand on top of Cleo’s. Cleo smiled, and it was obvious she was drunk, but she looked giddy, almost happy, and it made Frida’s heart melt.
“Are you… okay with this?” Frida gestured to herself, feeling insecure for a moment. Cleo bit her lip, and they were suddenly closer than they had ever been. Their noses were almost touching, and Frida could feel Cleo’s breath against her mouth.
“Hell yeah,” she replied, practically throwing her mouth onto Frida’s, immediately parting the other girl’s mouth with her tongue. Frida gasped, and Cleo took that as an opportunity to intertwine their tongues, grinding her hips against the shorter girl’s. Frida hooked her arms around Cleo’s neck, fighting the small moan that was threatening to emerge from her throat.
Cleo smirked against her lips, and placed her knee in between Frida’s legs, pressing against her… yeah. Frida couldn’t stifle her noises any longer, and one of her hands traveled down to Cleo’s chest, grabbing at the other girl’s breast hesitantly. Cleo moaned in response, pressing herself further into the girl’s hand, who then slipped it inside her shirt.
“You’re so hot,” Cleo whispered in between kisses, traveling down to the girl’s neck. She made eye contact with her as she sucked a mark into her skin, and Frida blushed while taking in the sight. Cleo leaned down further, her hands finding the button to Frida’s baggy jeans. Lost in the moment, Frida squirmed as she slipped off her pants and fondled her ass before playing with the hem of her boxers.
“I don’t know what I expected,” Cleo giggled, placing her hand against the sugar skulls on Frida’s boxers. She lowered that same hand and pressed lightly, a gasp escaping from the other girl’s lips.
“Fuck… shut up..” she muttered shyly, biting down on her hand while the tall girl, suddenly below her, fiddled with her underwear.
Cleo rested her head on Frida’s thigh, looking up at her almost innocently. However, there was nothing innocent about the way her hands were fondling the artist’s waist.
“Tell me you want this,” she tempted, snapping Frida’s waistband against her skin. She gasped. “Tell me you want me.”
“I… I wa-”
In a flash, the door snapped open, revealing the group they were playing truth or dare with earlier with Harriet in front.
“Your time's u-, holy SHIT!”