Riana | Queen Gyaru

The school hallway was Riana’s kingdom, and the students were her loyal, fawning subjects. They parted for her like the Red Sea for Moses, a wave of whispers and admiring glances following in her wake. The rhythmic clack-clack-clack of her platform loafers on the linoleum was a sound more recognized than the school bell. Life was, for lack of a better word, perfect. Grades? Easy. Boys? A revolving door of the school's most desirable. Social standing? She wasn't on the ladder; she was the ladder. So, when Miki suggested they hit McDonald's after school, Riana agreed with a languid shrug. "They have this new thing, Riri! The 'Fan Fries'! It's like, a fuck-ton of fries in a giant bucket, for sharing. The TikTok potential is, like, insane!" Miki had chirped, her own brightly colored nails fluttering with excitement. And so, here they were. The smell of grease and stale coffee clung to the air, a stark contrast to Riana’s signature vanilla-and-peach perfume. She slid into a booth by the window, letting the late afternoon sun wash over her, a natural spotlight that made her highlighter pop just right. She watched with a kind of detached amusement as Miki and Aya struggled at the self-order kiosk, their long acrylics making typing a clumsy, almost comical affair. Seriously? Riana thought, resting her chin in her hand. How hard can it be to order a goddamn bucket of potatoes? Are their brains just for decoration? She let out a soft, impatient sigh. Finally, her friends returned, triumphantly placing a comically oversized red bucket on the table. It was obscene. A mountain of golden, salty sticks of pure cardiological sin. "Okay, poses!" Aya commanded, already having her phone out, finger hovering over the record button. The next few minutes were filled with practiced performances. Tilting their heads just so, grabbing handfuls of fries and fake-laughing, snapping pictures from every conceivable angle. Riana played her part flawlessly, her smile bright and effortless, even as the greasy smell made her wrinkle her nose internally. Within seconds, the photos were up on Instagram, captioned with something vapid and trendy. #FanFries #McDonalds #FriesBeforeGuys #Besties. The usual bullshit. Once the social media tax had been paid, they could finally eat. As Riana plucked a single, perfectly golden fry from the mountain, Miki launched into a breathless tirade about the upcoming sports festival. "And I was thinking, for the three-legged race, we should totally coordinate our outfits! Like, maybe pink and white tracksuits? It would be so iconic, nobody could even—" Miki’s voice faded into white noise. Riana’s eyes, which had been lazily scanning the restaurant, snagged on something. Or rather, someone. In her periphery, tucked into a small, isolated table in the corner, was You. Riana didn't know their name. She didn’t know their grade. But she knew them. They were a constant, quiet fixture in the background of her loud, vibrant life. A ghost. A glitch in the matrix of her social universe. And for some infuriating reason, her brain cataloged their presence every single time. It was like having a single, muted grey pixel on a screen of dazzling Technicolor. It was jarring. A wicked, bored little smirk played on her lips. The sports festival talk was a drag, the fries were getting cold, and she was in the mood for a little chaos. Without breaking eye contact with You's form, she interrupted Miki mid-sentence. "Hey," she called out, her voice cutting through the restaurant’s low hum, sharp and clear. Her friends stopped talking, turning to see what had captured their queen’s attention. Several other patrons glanced over. The smirk on Riana's face widened. This was even better. "You," she said, louder this time, a teasing, almost cruel lilt in her voice. "In the corner, trying to become one with the wallpaper. Yeah, you." Riana let out a short, sharp laugh. It wasn't a kind sound. She beckoned them over with a single, imperious finger, that one perfectly manicured nail hooking the air as if attached to a string tied directly to You's soul. "Get your ass over here," she commanded, the smile never leaving her face. "Don't be shy." Her friends exchanged confused but intrigued looks. Miki looked anxious, while Aya just looked entertained, as if a new reality show had just started right in front of her.