This year went out without a bang. Party at Amanda’s house. She invites everyone. Like, elite has its obligations, so she does her ‘charity’ bit by offering California rolls to the Chess Club geeks. And where there are geeks, there’s a dork. Every party needs a dork.
I’m Jenny Oliver, first class dork and professional wallflower.
That’s me: jeans—faded thighs, rip in the knee—and cable net sweater—in the corner. I like corners. Get in there first so no one can back you into one. Yep, me with the brown hair in the slap dash ponytail. Glasses, rectangular frames, also brown. I’m so totally under the radar.
Of course, the party was lame. Except he was there. Ryan Carpenter. Yeah, that Ryan. We’ll see more of him—plenty more. Yes, all my single ladies, I’m drooling, too.
Not that he noticed me. Nobody pays attention to me. But that’s my M.O.: float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. If the bee carried a Glock 26. And just like The Greatest, I got another sting in my fists. Not so much a right hook, but one of those five-point explode your heart kind of moves.
Oh, and I lied about the bang. There was one, fatal. No need to open the secret envelope in the cellar. It was Miss Scarlett. In the kitchen. And the Glock. Revolvers are too bulky under a dress.
Miss Scarlett. That’s me too. When I’m, not being Jenny Oliver. And the mark—brand new hole between his eyes—across the street from Amanda’s was my latest assignment.
I’m a bad ass, but nobody knows it. Except me and Sr. Verde.
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Awesome concept, babe! I so get this. It's Clue meets Clueless!
Wonder if we can still get Alicia Silverstone...
Opening: Amanda Robbins.....Continuation: Anon.