Girls Night by I.S. Belle

Author:I.S. Belle [Belle, I.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fight club, sapphic, young adult, highschool, teen, femlae friends
Publisher: Tiny Ghost Press
Published: 2024-04-15T23:00:00+00:00

It’s not about Girls Night, she told herself as she neared the office. When that fell flat, she tried, she doesn’t have anything concrete on us.

Unless she did, and she’d marked Tulsi as the one most likely to screw them over for personal gain. Some of those social media posts were getting less vague. A girl had posted a #GirlsNight photo of her skinned knee that showed people’s faces in the background. Another girl had made a text post talking about how her latest assignment had gone on her public account: sneaking out to play drums in her new punk band. Alex had made them take both of them down, and the next Girls Night, she’d given an impassioned speech about not posting anything on socials you wouldn’t want your mother to read in front of your whole family.

No talking about Girls Night, she’d begged. No assignment talk, no showing off bruises, and for the love of God, no face pics.

Yazmine tilted side to side in a roller chair, high heels up on the admin desk. She hit Tulsi with a lazy peace sign as she entered. “Good luck, bitch. Hope your new school sucks.”

Tulsi flipped her off and knocked.

Ms. Ryans’s voice floated through the door. “Come in.”

Tulsi sat on the couch and slouched down as far as she could get away with. “What’s up?”

Ms. Ryans’s weariness was showing through her concealer. Her eyes drifted down to Tulsi’s thigh, where a bruise poked out from under her skirt’s hem.

Tulsi sat up.

Ms. Ryans smiled tightly. “How’s your family doing?”

“Great. We’re always great, us Ortizes.”

“And you’re still writing your own essays nowadays?”

“You know it,” Tulsi said. They hadn’t caught on to Sunju’s one. She’d been starting to think she was in the clear.

“Good,” Ms. Ryans said. Her smile was brittle in the way it was around most students she had in her office. Tulsi often got the feeling she regretted her career choices.

Ms. Ryans nudged a pencil back into its perfect place. All straight lines on her desk.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” she said. “We’ve been noticing some worrying injuries since this self-defense course started.”

I bet, Tulsi thought. Skin splitting open on knuckles or floorboards. Bruises turning black. A gouge mark from someone who hadn’t listened to the “no long nails” requirement. Last week, someone had spat out a tooth and giggled. There were so many girls at Girls Night nowadays that most attendants only got the chance to fight once every few weeks, and when they did, they unleashed a month’s worth of shit.

Tulsi waited. “And?”

“And,” Ms. Ryans said, sighing, “we would like to know if the rumors of a . . . of a fight club are true.”

There we go. They’d have to get more people on lookout.

“A what?” Tulsi barked out a harsh laugh. “No. Shit, no.”

“Are you sure?”

“If there was a fight club, we’d know about it.”

“Mm. How’s Joseph been as a teacher?”

“Joseph? He’s fine. Good guy.”

Ms. Ryans’s eyes narrowed. Maybe Tulsi should’ve been more dismissive. She didn’t go around calling people good guys.

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