Killer Queens: Part One (Short Story)


Summary: Jera loved her life. She was wealthy, loved by everyone, and had the power to kill anyone she ever wanted. Yet when Chloe, Jera’s pain in the ass rival, offers up an interesting challenge, Jera knew she couldn’t resist. Of course, competitions come with unexpected factors. In this case, it happens to be Bartholomew Kawawinski, the nerdiest and most unfashionable human being Jera has ever seen. She has to win Homecoming Queen with him as her date, but is that something she can even pull off?


Killer Queens: Part One


The students of Westford High were going crazy as Jacoby Crawford, captain of the school’s football team, landed a touchdown. Westford’s Wildcats were already leading by five points. They would probably take home tonight’s trophy.

All the students and teachers crowded the bleachers, waving pom poms and sweating paint off their faces. Man, they were so wrapped up in their excitement, that they failed to notice a great performance at the end of the field.

I, Queen Bee Jera Jameson, was a multitasker. I had one hand,  up in the air, fist pumping every time a touchdown was made. The other was dragging this sniveling, sobbing, and ugly girl by the hair. I didn’t even know her name but I would describe her as “mousy” looking. She was a little thing with coke bottle glasses that made her eyes as round as saucers. Her hair was a dull brown and it felt so greasy in my hand. Ew.

I was tired of moving at such a slow pace, so I tugged harder on Mousy girl. I was on a time limit okay? I would have been pissed if I missed the new episode of Gossip Girl, and you didn’t want me to miss Gossip Girl.

As we were passing through the entrance of the football field, a teacher had come across our path. Of course, this girl started going crazy.

“Please, help! She’s trying to kill me!”

The teacher looked confused for a moment before letting out a loud laugh. “Oh kids these days with their youthful slang. Have fun being “killed!” She walked off, holding her stomach from how hard she was laughing.

I looked at Mousy girl, yawning. “Are you done? I got places to be, other people to kill.”

She turned toward me, panicking, and a bit of anger maring her face. “Why me? What did I ever do to you?”

I shook my head slowly. “Oh hunny. I told you if I ever caught you again wearing high waters and loafers, I’ll kill you. And here we are now.”

Mousy girl shook her head furiously, trying to pull away from me.

But I did pilates and my diet only consisted of liquids. Obviously, I had the upper hand.

“Help! Someone please help me!” Mousy girl was proving that she did have a voice because her screams were seriously giving me a headache.

“Can you like shut up?” I said irritated. We were already way out into the forest and no one would even be able to  hear her.

“Somebody help me!” She screamed even louder. Enough was enough, I karate chopped her in the neck, successfully knocking her out.

I sighed. “Why do I always get the fucking loud ones?”



With a heave, I lifted the body and threw it into the river. I tried to catch my breath, but damn near lost it when I saw my clothes.

“Aw, my Miu Miu’s!” I whined. “I just literally got these yesterday.”

There were splatters of blood all over my dress and my heels were covered in dirt. I knew I should’ve wore the Gucci tracksuit instead.


I couldn’t stay like this any longer. Going into my purse, I pulled out my gallon sized bottle of hand sanitizer. I started rubbing it all over my body, not wanting to take a chance at catching some weird disease. When I bent down to get my legs, I noticed an orange purse decorated with hibiscus flowers on the ground.

So I went over and checked it out. I found a wallet, phone, and inhaler. It must have belonged to  Mousy girl. Just because no one around here would ever wear this atrocity. When I opened the wallet, to my surprise, I saw a picture of Mousy girl and an equally nerdy looking guy. They were both staring into each other’s eyes with huge annoying smiles on their faces. Gross.

Looking at their picture made me a bit sentimental, I began thinking of a time before I became a Queen Bee.

The sound of twig snapping caught my attention and I whipped around to see my bitch ass rival, Chloe. Besides her new nose, I noticed the blood on her Dolce and Gabbana dress.

I glared at her. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, can I borrow some hand sanitizer?” Asked Chloe.

I hugged my purse to my chest.“No, get your fucking own. What the hell do you want?”

Chloe made  a deep sigh, a look of disappoint on her face. “Well I’m just a little pissed. I was supposed off Emily Stirwell. Like, you totally stole my dibs.”

“Wait, that’s her name?” I said shocked..So nerdy. I shrugged my shoulders, not caring about Chloe’s dibs. “Anyway, it’s not my fault you were so slow. Early bird kills the warm.”

“That’s not how that goes and I had to settle for Dandruff Donna.” Chloe shivered, horrified. “Like what if I catch that?”

“I don’t give a shit. Pretty sure you’ve caught everything else under the fucking sun anyway.”

Chloe glared at me. Good. “Look, I’m just trying to be civil. Hear me out.”

I sneered at her. “Sure, even though you killed my boyfriend back in Freshman year, I’m supposed to link up with you and go shopping.”

Chloe sighed. “You’re still on that? We became popular after he passed.”

“After he was killed you mean.” I said, annoyed.

“Yeah, killed. But it all worked out! What was I supposed to do?” Said Chloe.

‘You could’ve picked someone else.’ I thought. Four years ago, the annal Queens competition at Palmer High took place. All the freshman girls who had potential to become popular had to carry out a certain murderous deed in order to determine the ultimate Queen Bee of the school. Chloe and I were tied neck to neck, both of us each having 13 kills under our belt. The last kill had to be of quality. I had been thinking of the governor, but felt like it was too overboard. So I killed the school’s principal

Everyone was praising me, saying I picked a pretty good choice and I felt pretty damn proud of myself. I had no idea Chloe would stoop so low as to kill my boyfriend of three years, Jake.

I literally cried for an entire day and in retaliation, killed her brother. Anyway, the judges felt we were evenly matched and decided the next time we would compete for queen bee, would be senior year.

Chloe continued with her nonsense. “How about we do something about this bad blood between us?”

“No.” Was my straight up answer.

“And here I thought we could have a friendly competition. You and your squad would get dibs for an entire month, free clean up after every spree, and complimentary mani’s at Le Belles.”

I stared down Chloe. “If you think you can convince me with such materialistic things, then you’re absolutely correct and I accept whatever challenge your janky ass is selling.”

Chloe pointed at my purse. “The only thing janky is that Christian Dior purse from last month.”

I gasped in shock. How dare she.

“All you have to do is become homecoming queen. Get more votes than me.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. This can easily be rigged.” I wasn’t going to let this bite me in the ass.

Chloe scoffed. “No faith whatsoever huh?”

“You killed my boyfriend.” I deadpanned. “But I’m not trusting you simply because you can get votes with your hussy ways and it needs to be said that seduction is out of the question.”

Chloe paused for before replying. “Deal. ONLY if we pick each other’s dates for homecoming.”

I tapped my foot in impatience. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Bartholomew Kawawinski.” She said immediately.

I glared at her hatefully. “I really hate you.”

“Likewise.” Was her reply. “Can’t pick anyone worse than that though.”

That was true, so of course I had to go with second worse. “Mr. Sneezebly.”

Her eyebrows raised. “The janitor?” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever. I’m out.”

I watched her walk off and the sneer on my face melted into sadness. I pulled out my phone and went through my photo album labeled “Hubby”. I had 545 pictures in this album and they all had Jake in them. Some were of us together, going on dates or just cuddling in bed. Others were of pictures I took of him secretly.

I let out a sigh. “I miss you.”