MEAN GIRL vs GOTH GIRL: Connie vs Devon
Connie and Devon seemed as different as day and night, but the two twenty-one-year-olds had one thing in common. They could both hold a grudge. For as long as Bobby could remember, every school he attended had been ruled by Connie, a cheerleader and beauty queen who was sweet and likeable most of the time but could spit fire when challenged. The definition of a mean girl, she was backed up by her posse, Karen and Sherri. Connie would not tolerate any challenge to her rule. That put her in conflict with Devon, a pale, edgy Goth girl who refused to bow to anyone, including beauty queen mean girls. Connie stood 5’6”, weighed about 105 lbs., with green eyes and very long, dark-red hair. Devon stood 5’2”, weighed about 95 lbs., with short, black hair. She wore thick, black eyeliner, black lipstick, and had tattoos on her right arm from her shoulder to her wrist. She had the darkest eyes Bobby had ever seen.
Total opposites and natural enemies, the tension between the girls grew through high school, but they never came to blows. Devon was at a serious disadvantage with Connie’s posse around, although Connie was the bigger girl and more than a physical match for petite Devon, anyway. Bobby had known Connie since first grade. She was friendly to him. She was friendly to everyone, as long as they bowed to her and accepted her place at the top of the town pecking order. Devon was remote and unreachable. As far as Bobby knew, Devon had no friends. Connie had the bright smile, amazing legs, and curvaceous body, while Devon was mysterious, and she had those smoldering, dark eyes. They got through school without any major incident.
After graduation, they went their separate ways. After a few of years, Connie’s dreams of stardom fizzled. She decided she wanted to further his education and enrolled at the town’s small college, which was a converted public school. Devon, who had struggled to find work, made the same decision. Bobby, who was already attending classes there, witnessed what happened next. If the dark-haired Goth girl thought her problems with Connie had ended with high school, she was in for a rude awakening. Connie, Karen, and Sherri attended the college. Connie immediately decided that she would be the queen of that school, too. The tensions that had simmered for so long between the Goth girl and the mean girl reached a boiling point. Now young adults, there wasn’t anything holding them back. Something had to give.
Connie declared the small hallway by her locker off limits to Devon. It was the only hallway with an exit anywhere near the sidewalk to Devon’s dorm. Devon told Connie she would go anywhere she wanted to. Connie informed her that if she showed up in that hallway, she would regret it. The short hallway was in a building that only housed the band hall, which was empty in the afternoons. The building was deserted then, making it the perfect place for a showdown.
Bobby knew what was coming. That afternoon, he hid around a corner, waiting for the battle to come. As expected, Devon appeared. She was dressed in a black, shoulder-less top, tight, black jeans, and black combat boots. The doors to the hall swung open. Connie entered wearing a tight, white top, skin-tight, navy-blue pants, and Tony Burch flats. Karen and Sherri stood behind her. Bobby pulled out his phone to record it all.
Devon sneered. “You’re real brave. That’s why you need your posse. Keep your girls out of this or let them know you’re afraid of me. One or the other might be tempted to take your place.”
Connie ordered Karen and Sherri to back off.
Connie and Devon faced off, fists clenched, their faces full of fury, their eyes burning. A decade of taunts an insults had finally come to a head. Connie shoved Devon. Devon pushed back. Connie shoved back, hard. Furious, Devon shoved Connie’s back against a locker. Connie lunged, shoving Devon’s back against the adjacent locker. They marched together in the center of the hallway. It was on! They threw a blur of flailing fists. Connie’s posse cheered her on. Devon landed a hard fist to Connie’s nose. Connie stepped back with her hands cupped over her nose, eyes wide. Connie erupted in fists. Devon reeled from the onslaught, until Connie sent her down! Devon sat up and looked up, shocked that Connie could out-punch her.
Snarling, Devon leapt up throwing wild fists. Connie grabbed Devon’s hands to stop her. They ended up palm to palm, fingers locked together in a test-of-strength mercy match. Eye to eye, they strained, bodies shaking. Connie had more, slowly forcing Devon to her knees. She slammed her knee to Devon’s forehead, flooring the Goth girl. Connie stomped Devon’s body, but Devon kicked Connie off and down.
They raced to their feet. Again, Connie forced a test of strength, and again Connie was winning, until Devon leaned in and actually bit Connie’s pretty face! Connie howled in pain. She turned her back to Devon, her hands clutching her face. Devon seized Connie’s long, dark red
hair and used it to slam Connie face forward against a locker. BAM! Bobbie saw terror in Connie’s wide eyes. Devon kept her grip on Connie’s hair, ran her across the hall, and slammed Connie’s face to the adjacent locker. Connie collapsed to her knees, sitting on her own feet with her face against the locker.
Sneering, Devon pulled Connie up by her hair. Connie suddenly spun, teeth bared in a fierce sneer, and she clawed her fingers in Devon’s eyes! Devon screamed! Connie seized Devon’s short, black hair and used it to drag Devon’s face across the lockers, raking Devon’s face across the metal locks. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! She dragged Devon’s face back across the opposite way! WHANG! WHANG! WHANG! WHANG! Devon’s legs gave out. She fell in a heap at Connie’s feet. Connie reached down for her, but Devon kicked her boot back into Connie’s belly. Connie staggered back, doubled over. Hurt and gasping, Devon used the locks on the lockers to pull herself to her feet.
They stared at each other, breasts and bellies heaving. Both had tears on their cheeks, but neither would turn from their battle. Someone had to win, once and for all. They staggered together, throwing fists. They fell, rolling, slamming fists to bodies. Devon came out on top, raining fists down on Connie. Then, the inevitable happened. Karen and Sherri raced in and pulled Devon kicking and cursing off Connie. They pinned Devon’s arms back. Connie rose and pounded her fist into the helpless Goth girl. Devon collapsed, her back against the lockers. Karen opened a locker door, and Sherri forced Devon’s arm into it. They then closed the door against Devon’s arm. Connie pressed her foot against the door.
Connie shouted, “Beg me for mercy and admit I’m better than you are, or I swear I’ll kick the door shut on your arm!”
Devon looked up in horror, but she was too proud to beg her enemy. She closed her eyes and bared her teeth, bracing for the agony to come.
“STOP!” Bobby stepped out of hiding, holding his camera phone. “I have what you were about to do to her recorded. Let her go, or I’ll take it to the authorities!”
Terrified, Karen and Sherri fled out the hallway doors. Shocked at being left to fight alone, Connie tried to grab Bobby’s phone in a useless attempt to get rid of the evidence. All the while, Devon slowly rose behind her.
Bobby said, “Either you two stop this, or finish it in a fair fight, one-on-one!”
Devon spun Connie to face her. They went for each other’s hair and took it to the floor, hitting, choking, scratching, and even biting, one on top and then the other. Each girl had her moments. In the end, Devon came out on top. She poured a decade of fury and frustration into her enemy until Connie was left almost limp, sobbing and whimpering for mercy. Bobby recorded that too, before stopping the fight. Connie was left helpless at Devon’s feet. The queen had been dethroned. Defeated, Connie crawled away and vanished around a corner. Connie couldn’t go to the authorities, because Bobby had proof that she had wanted the fight and had pushed first.
Gasping, quaking, and barely on her feet, Devon stepped outside. Bobby followed. She turned to him.
“I could have handled them myself, but . . . thanks.” She paused. “You have a motorcycle, right? I’m not too steady on my feet. I could use a ride.”
He nodded. She sat behind him on his bike. He felt her body press against his back, as her arms encircled him.
He asked, “Where are you going?”
“Wherever you are.”
They rode away together.
