Her long strawberry-blond hair hung in model-perfect waves nearly down to her elbows. Her creamy skin was flawless and tinted with blush, her eyes heavily but effectively made up, and her lips colored with bright red lipstick. On her arm, perched at an angle so everyone could see the signature H of the Hermes logo, was her handbag that had likely set her back five figures. She was the kind of person you always hoped got fat and ugly after high school, but nope. That’s not how it had worked out for mean-hearted Magnolia. Her waist was tiny, her legs were slender and toned in her short skirt, and her boobs were noticeably bigger than I remembered.

“Magnolia,” I acknowledged without a smile. She didn’t deserve one of my smiles.

“I never thought we’d see you back in town, Chloe Abrams,” she purred.

If I’d had my way, she wouldn’t have, but instead of responding, I picked up a bag of chips, as if I’d barely noticed her.

“Dressed to impress, and on a Sunday, no less.” She made a little sound in her throat. “It’s good to see you’ve made some external changes.”

I shouldn’t have dignified her bitchy comment with any kind of response, but I made the mistake of looking at her. Her judgy gaze was roving over me, from my Jimmy Choo chunky heels to my jeans to my designer black blazer and tee. Overdressed for a Sunday? Some might say so, but at the moment, I was relieved that I never left home without looking my best, hair done and full but light makeup.

Heat crawled up my neck, my outer armor seeming to fail when faced with my biggest childhood nemesis. Magnolia was the one who’d taught me what a mean girl was, back when we were six years old. She was spoiled, born with a silver spoon and a sharp tongue in her mouth, and the only child of the family with the biggest house in Dragonfly Heights.

She’d tormented me throughout our childhood, calling attention to my shortcomings and my family’s economic status at every turn, with disdain and mockery. One of the first run-ins I remembered was in first grade. My mom had made a lot of my clothes back then, and usually they were simple and plain, as dictated by cost. So when she’d presented me with a pink T-shirt that she’d appliquéd a teddy bear onto, I’d felt like a princess.

Today was an awesome day. I could barely wait to get into Ms. Tanney’s classroom so everyone could see my brand-new teddy bear shirt.

I put my jacket on the peg with my name, hung up my school bag, and practically bounced to my desk.