So I’ve been thinking too hard about Chloe Bourgeois from ‘Miraculous Ladybug,’ and I had to write out why she and her fellow queen bees were so interesting to me. That train of thought led me to writing this meta post about teenage girl bullies in fiction.
I’m not a fan of the “Alpha Bitch” name for this trope on TvTropes, and queen bee is too cutesy, so I’m using girl-bully instead. It’s not a perfect replacement, but hopefully I’ll be able to make my argument all the same.
Characters mentioned include Chloe Bourgeois, Pacifica Northwest, Gretchen Wieners, Quinn Fabray, Cordelia Chase, Trixie Tang, and Rachel Green. The focus here is Western television.
faceclaim: i don’t really have any preferences ! i always love playing lily collins though. muse: girls… who are soft and sharp and scared and lonely and vicious and intelligent and fun and boring and are the life of the party and who are damaged and are in love with love and are scared of love and everything in between! character: buffy summers, cordelia chase, grace blood, blair waldorf, allison argent. oops.
subject/class? english, media and drama! literally the only three classes i was able to do during school that i liked…at all. movie/show? CLUELESS and buffy the vampire slayer ! food/drink? i’m really feeling risotto lately but my all time fav is sushi and malibu and pineapple juice has been my recent go-to !
if we were to read a headline about you, what would it read?: “girl won’t stop crying. someone needs to tell her to shut up!” what concept has piqued your interest/are you most excited to see?: UPTOWN! i’m so #thankful because i have NOT been inspired this much in sooooo long. a gif that best describes you:
It was over a month since my sister went missing. Mom had all but given up, now only going as far as Craigslist to look for her. Even despite our recent tragedy and the disturbing rumors I’d heard concerning the woods just outside of town, I loved taking walks at night. I didn’t see any reason not to, so long as I carried my knife and stuck to my usual route, well away from the forest. I took the interurban trail up to the tiny circle of restaurants and convenience stores, turned onto the sidewalk, and walked the rest of the way home under bright orange streetlights. Even on the darkened trail, I had my flashlight app see the way. It was important to Mom that I played it safe.
I won’t pretend that I haven’t felt drawn to the forest since her disappearance, though. Every night, I keep turning the incident over again and again in my mind:
Eliza gets home from work. I’m sitting on the couch playing Fallout. Mom’s making dinner in the kitchen.
“We got mail!” She announces, slapping a handful of letters down onto the kitchen table.
“Anything for me?” I called.
“Not unless you want junk mail.”
I shrugged and disintegrated a feral ghoul. A letter from grandma I’d shake open for money, a bank statement about my savings account, spam letters… those were the rare occasions I ever got mail, not counting the dreaded report card. Eliza had graduated two years ago, and I had just become a high school senior.
I’ll admit it was fun at first, watching her man the drive-thru window at McDonald’s for a few months, lording over the fact that the prodigal daughter was reduced to a mere fast food worker, but she graduated to Value Village by fall, and then a swanky boutique. She claimed to hate every minute of dealing with middle aged moms, old ladies, and modern-day Cordelia Chases, but I was still jealous of how glamorous she made everything look. This was her first year at college, studying to become a nurse. She seemed glad to take a break from working, and I couldn’t blame her. It seemed like a nightmare.
But, I thought, shoveling a handful of pork rinds into my mouth, it was a nightmare for Future Riley to deal with.
She flopped down next to me, inspecting an ancient, cream-colored envelope.
“What'cha got there?” I asked, my voice muffled with food.
“I dunno. There’s no return address.” She murmured this to herself as much as me, completely unperturbed by my manners.
“Open it!” I urged, pulling up my Pip-Boy to pause the game.
She fumbled with the envelope flap for a moment, tearing off little bits at a time. She may be perfect at everything else, but my sister was shit at opening envelopes.
Finally, the letter inside was freed.
“It’s… an invitation.” She declared, falling silent for a moment to read. I didn’t want to look over her shoulder, or she’d elbow me in the ribs.
“To what?” I asked when she looked up.
“It says a dinner in my honor. It’s at that mansion up in the woods. But, like, it starts at 3 in the morning.”
“Weird. Maybe it’s for a timeshare or something, and they just make the letter look all old so people will think it’s fancy.” I said, already returning to my game.
“Yeah, maybe…” Her voice trailed off as she reread the letter, addressed to “Miss Eliza St. Vincent Dupree of 1014 Sycamore Avenue” in calligraphy. Her brow wrinkled, then she shook her head. “You’re probably right. Whatever.“