[Scene: Overlit High School Hallway – second period break. Lockers sparkle. Cindy sparkles more.]
Kahuro struts down the hallway in last year’s jeans and a ponytail that looks like it gave up halfway through.
Cindy (leaning against her locker like an ancient goddess banished to a high school for being too iconic):
“Oh my Ra, Kahuro… that ponytail is so... post-apocalyptic. Did your hairbrush call in sick?”
Kahuro glares, but Cindy steps in her path like a divine speed bump made of glitter and superiority.
Cindy (mock-gasping):
“Wait. I just had a vision. You, winning Prom Queen. And then I woke up… screaming.”
Kahuro (defensive):
“At least I don’t need five layers of makeup to feel pretty.”
Cindy (smiling venomously):
“Sweetheart, I don’t need makeup. I wear it so other people don’t go blind from my raw beauty. I'm basically a walking eclipse.”
She flips her hair, which glows with the approval of ancient Egyptian spirits and Sephora's finest.
Cindy (to nearby onlookers):
"Anyway, someone please get this girl a map—she clearly lost her way between ‘meh’ and ‘why even try.’"
Kahuro storms off, spiritually bruised. The hallway bursts into subtle applause (or maybe that’s just the sound of Cindy’s heels echoing like judgment).
Cindy (to herself, applying clear gloss):
“Being this perfect should be illegal. But then again… I’d look good in prison orange too.”