A preview of their first victims. It's going to get interesting.
PART 1
Amalia savored the smells in the air. They were far from salubrious, but they represented success to her. She was free, free from the podunk town she couldn’t wait to leave behind, free from the school where she had been tormented the last few years for looking different. She looked over at her friend Michelle, who in many ways had made it possible. If Michelle hadn’t also gotten admitted to Metropolis University, there was no way Amalia’s mother would have let her go. As it was, her childhood friend, her companion through the last four years of hell, she was not only attending the same school, they had rented an apartment together. They’d only been living there a little over a month now, but they loved their loft space in a converted warehouse. Sure, it wasn’t the safest part of the city, but it was their place, their own, without moms or dads telling them what to do every day. The two weren’t really party girls, but they had shared a few drinks with friends in the new place the first week or two, simply because they could. “We’ll have to split this bag of donuts,” Michelle said, bringing Amalia out of her contemplation. “I have a full class schedule today, it may be all I get time to eat,” Amalia replied. “Well, make sure you eat enough, we’re going clubbing tonight, DJ Thierry is visiting from Brussels.” “I know,” Amalia laughed, “you think I’d dress this way for class?”
Amalia looked down at her large platform boots, over black thigh highs that hugged her chunky thighs. Over that, she had a simple camouflage skirt, and a black thermal t-shirt, with fishnets on her arms. Suddenly conscious of how she appeared, she put her hands to her scalp to check that her fall of black and purple cyberloks was staying in place. Amalia was a heavyset girl, with large breasts. Although she sometimes enjoyed wearing corsets when going out, it didn’t seem appropriate for a day when she had to wear her outfit to attend classes.
Considering that point, she noted how Michelle’s outfit was rather less modest. The tall, slender girl was sporting black boots very similar to Amalia’s, since they bought them in the same place, but she was rocking a miniskirt with no stockings. Her pale legs contrasted sharply with the black skirt. In a similar way, the black skull tank top she was wearing, somewhat distorted as the skull stretched over her large breasts, contrasted with her pale arms and neck, as did her auburn hair as it fell rather messily over her shoulders.
“I don’t know about this shortcut,” Amalia groused, “it looks kind of dangerous over here.” “Stop your whining, if we don’t take a shortcut, we’ll be late for organic chemistry. And you know how Doc L. will be about that.” “Yeah, she’s such a pain in the—“
As they turned the corner from the alley they were in into a space between some decrepit buildings, they came nearly face to face with three girls: a thin one wearing a bandana, an athletic one with her hair in a ponytail, and chubby one in a flannel shirt. From their expressions, they were amused but not happy to meet the two college students. Amalia stopped speaking and grabbed Michelle’s arm, trying to get her to stop and turn back, but it was too late.
“Oye, chicas, what have we got here?” Lupita asked, rhetorically. “Two circus clowns seem to have lost their way,” Alma snarked, adding, “Last I checked this neighborhood wasn’t a circus.” Clara chimed in, “What she means to say is why don’t you two go back the way you—“ “Cállate, Gordita. I’m talking.” Clara’s look went from apologetic to staring daggers at Alma.
“We’ll…just be…going...now…” Michelle said, her voice quavering. That’s when she realized she had lost sight of the athletic one. As she turned, she found Lupita had gone around behind them so they couldn’t exit the way they came in. They were trapped. Amalia, frightened, turned toward Clara, who seemed the most reasonable of the girls so far. “We don’t want any trouble, we’re just trying to get to school. Ummm, want some donuts?” Alma grabbed the bag and tossed it to the ground, “She’s had enough donuts,” she said, poking Clara’s love handle through her flannel shirt, “and from the looks of you, you’ve had too many, too.”
Clara was fuming but she knew that this wasn’t the time to fight Alma. No matter how senseless it seemed, Lupita had clearly made up her mind that she was going to mess with these girls, and there was no way Clara could talk her down with Alma supporting her; she was the odd one out here.
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