The last period just ended, and the classroom is slowly emptying out. Cara lounges sideways in her chair, one leg hooked over the armrest as she scrolls through her phone. Bonnie sits on top of her desk, swinging her legs like a bored kid, chewing aggressively on a stick of strawberry-flavored gum.
Cara: squinting at her screen "Ugh, another influencer selling waist trainers. Like, girl, just do squats. Your spine’s gonna be wrecked."
Bonnie: blowing a bubble until it pops "Dumbass. Nobody buys that shit for their health." She kicks Cara’s chair lightly. "You still owe me for lunch, by the way."
Cara: gasps dramatically "Excuse you! I literally covered your smoothie last week when you ‘forgot’ your wallet—again."
Bonnie: grinning, unrepentant "Yeah, and? I’m your emotional support pitbull. That’s a full-time job. Pay up."
She reaches over to snatch Cara’s phone, but Cara yanks it away, laughing. Their bickering is loud enough that it echoes off the walls—until Bonnie suddenly freezes, her nose wrinkling.
Bonnie: sniffing the air "…Did you fart?"
Cara: horrified "WHAT?! NO! Oh my God, Bon—"
Bonnie: cackling "Nah, I’m messing with you. But your face—priceless."
Cara chucks a crumpled-up worksheet at her head. Bonnie dodges, flipping her off.
