The Geek Revolution ✓

61 | prom

I HEARD BRITTANY WAS EXPELLED.

Or driven out of town by a mob of her victims.

At least, so say the many students who, in their hunger for details about what truly happened, decided to fabricate their own. No-one really knows how the teachers decided to deal with her. Not even the Monarchs — but given their mutiny, that's to be expected.

All we know is that no-one's seen or contacted Brittany since her breakdown on Monday.

And she hasn't been missed.

The entire student body has been alight with joy since that day. Most of the freshmen and sophomores — who had only a short, albeit terrifying, understanding of how cruel the Monarchy could be — assumed all the paper and commotion was just the senior prank for the year. But the juniors and seniors — who lived through their reign for years — truly understood the magnitude of that day.

More than understood, actually. They revelled in it.

Surprisingly, most of the cheer was spread by the Monarchy themselves.

They went through school apologising to any student to which they ever caused harm — emotional, physical or otherwise — which was a lot. I heard Madison was using her previous messages as a way to track down her cyberbullying victims. As for the others, they had to rely on facial recognition to find students, which wasn't too hard.

With the extensive damage the Monarch had done over four years, nearly every second person was someone who deserved an apology. Either from Derek, Reece, Madison, Terrence, or on behalf of Brittany. What was inspiring, however, weren't the apologies.

It was that, in most cases, people didn't fully accept them at first.

I can't count the profanities spewed towards the ex-Monarchs, nor the bitch-slaps and flipped birds — though I can count the one time a girl dumped her water on Reece. One might have looked at the hostility towards the Monarchy negatively, but it filled me with relief.

It proved that the students no longer felt compelled to readily accept whatever the Monarchy dished out. If they wanted to swear and insult them with the dirty laundry made available to the whole school by yours truly, they could. And on the other hand, if they wanted to sit down and talk it out, they also could.

It didn't matter if they accepted the apologies or not. I know the Monarchs weren't apologising to assuage their conscience; it wasn't a self-serving gesture. If anyone could get closure from them reaching out, they were willing to do it over and over again.

The fear was gone, from both bullies and bullied, replaced by freedom so profound it made my heart thump with pride when witnessing it.

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Squeezing into my vice of a dress was not easy.

With its cream colour and gentle, flowing silhouette, my ball dress is indubitably beautiful — but two times more high-maintenance. Aside from its sheer skin-hugginess, there are so many layers of skirts and odd, thin lacy contraptions that criss-cross between my shoulder blades to the low backline that made just getting changed a hellish feat.

Not to mention makeup and hair.

I did my best to conceal the scabs on my cheek from where Brittany scratched me but to no avail. My excuse to Mom when I came home with a plastered face was that a girl had accidentally scratched me whilst going for the same hit in a game of volleyball in Gym class.

"It was my fault, really," I casually explained, "I should have called for it."

Yet, all the grief of scrubbing up has been worth it. I may be sucking in my stomach and only showing my good side in photos all night, but nothing will dampen my spirits. It's Prom night after all and my last one, at that.