Jessie's Journal (10/8/26) (Patreon)

Dear Journal:

At lunch today, sissy was once again the talk of the table.  Tuesday’s off-campus excursion to Mel’s Diner was a roaring success.  So much so that some of the girls went again on Wednesday.  Today, everyone compared notes, like they were reminiscing about a weekend party or concert.

“I can’t believe how fat she’s gotten.”

“I feel bad for her.  Especially having to wear that hideous yellow uniform.”

“And did you see her shoes?  Oh, my God.”

Michelle’s podiatrist had prescribed these special orthopedic shoes to help her Plantar fasciitis while she waitressed.  They looked like clown shoes and were a far cry from the fashionable kicks and pumps she used to wear.  I considered explaining it to the group, but I didn’t want to slow their roll. 

I still feel bad that I didn’t.

“Look how flabby her tits are now,” Gretchen Wilson said, scrolling furiously on her phone.  When she found what she was looking for, she smiled and handed it to Stacy Jack, who gasped and covered her mouth.

As Gretchen’s phone made its way around the circular table, I noticed something.  The boys, some of whom Michelle had dated and dumped, merely nodded and smiled before passing it along, but the girls, many of whom had been guests at our house, leered and laughed maliciously. 

So much for sugar and spice and everything nice.

Eventually, I was offered the phone.  On it was a candid photo of sissy in her waitress uniform.  She looked miserable.  I’m sure she was, especially waiting on these brats.

I waved it away, saying, “I see her all the time.”  Everyone laughed, and the phone continued around the table. 

As it did, I was hit by a wave of nausea and déjà vu.  I pictured the group’s interactions with my sister as clearly as the photo on the screen.  They probably greeted her with hugs and “Oh, my God, it’s good to see yous,” and left with more hugs and “Let's get together soons.”  In between, I'm sure they were polite and even left a healthy tip.   

But now the duplicitous bitches giggled and guffawed, pointing and puffing their cheeks.    

I didn’t take the phone.  I didn’t pile on like everyone else.  Then why did I feel like shit?

Maybe because, deep down, I knew I was the original Mean Girl.

--Jessie