Marinette smiled.

Yessssssss!!!!!

She internally squealed at the cute clothes her mother bought her just a few hours ago. It was just right.

Her and her mother went out, at least two hours away, just to find a store with decent clothes. She had designer clothes, from Paris, but she didn't want to stick out. She just wanted to fit in. She was greatful, her mother was willing to go that far just for her.

It was now 11:00, and her mother insisted she go to bed. Though she didn't want to, she did anyways.

Next Morning.

Marinette got up early, she needed time to prep for what she had planned.

She stripped of her clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water ran down her body. She scrubbed her skin, and lathered shampoo and conditioner in her hair.
Her body dripped as she wrapped herself in a towel, and sat down in front of her body mirror. She untangled the cords of her hairdryer, turning it on full blast. The hot air twirled her hair around, leaving it a complete mess. She brushed out her now dried hair, parting it to the side. She took the outfit she had picked out and slipped it on, smiling at herself in the mirror. She sat back down, unplugging her hairdryer, and plugging in a new cord, her curling wand.

Ok Marinette, you haven't used this in a while...,

She sectioned off some of her hair and wrapped it around the wand, holding it there for a couple seconds. She released it and it bounced on her shoulder. She grinned and began doing the process again.

Not too long later, she had a full head of perfect curls. She ran her fingers through her hair, loosening the tight curls. She pulled some hair back and pinned it to the back of her head with a cute flower clip. She then grabbed her makeup bag, doing the usual bruise-covering process. But, today, she wanted to look...popular?
Instead of her usual, light pink lip gloss, she put on some nice red lipstick. Her eyes had a somewhat golden sparkle, instead of her usual no eyeshadow at all. She hopped up, posing in front of the mirror. Her corral colored crop top had a small flower on the chest area, matching her hair clip. She had on some back, high-waisted black skinny jeans, that hugged her hips. It showed off her small, but if she did say so herself, sexy, hour glass figure. Her corral converse matched perfectly with the outfit. She smiled one last time and bounced down the stairs, luckily not tripping.

Her mother looked up at her in suprise, almost dropping the dishes she was washing.

"Well, this is different." Her mother scanned her from head to toe. She had already known about the outfit, but the make up was certainly different. It even looked somewhat strange on her.

"I know, do you like it?" she have her a big grin.

"Its very nice dear, but....it's not really you." her mother looked at her.

"Sure it is." Marinette kept her smile, but her eyes showed some confusion and possibly anger.

"Okay dear." her mother have her a smile. She returned to her dishes, humming.

"I love you!!" Marinette waved goodbye and grabbed her new lunchbox and bag.

"Are you not going to eat breakfast?" her mother called to her.

"No time mom, bus will be here any second. I'll just eat a breakfast bar!!!" she rushed out the door, grabbing a granola bar from a nearby basket on the table.

She skipped down the long dirt driveway, humming and smiling. The bus pulled up to the red sign, the letters spelling "stop" faded and weathered. The doors creeked open, and she was greeted by a warm smile. The old man with round glasses waved, hands taken away from the steering wheel. She hopped on and returned his sweet smile, though hers had more teeth.

She plopped down in a front seat, avoiding sitting with anyone. Most of the kids on the bus were freshman, since the older kids would drive themselves to school. She felt strangely normal sitting amount them, considering they were all about her age.

The bus jostled her around, but she stayed in her seat.

A girl in a seat, a distance away from her sat, knees pressed tightly to her chest. Her hair was midnight black, loosely tied up by a ribbon. Her locks were thin and droopy, obviously not taken care of properly. Marinette gentley felt her own hair, the soft conditioned strands. The girls hair still hung in her face, despite it being put up. She wore a gray hoodie, slightly hanging off of her shoulder. It exposed her bra and tanktop straps. Her shoulder was brittle, bones visibly sticking out. Her wrists were tiny, like a child's. Her legs were thin, like if you were to pull up her pant leg, all there would be is bone. Her leggings had smudges of some kind of dried up substance. Mud? Dirt? It was hard to tell due to the black fabric. Her worn tennis shoes were scuffed.

Marinette looked down at herself. Her body a perfect balance of muscle and fat. She turned back to the girl, who was sitting next to another girl. She looked to be older, but not quite a senior. She wore an outfit similar to those of Brooklyn's minions. Her blonde hair curled, makeup on. The girl scoffed.

"Jesus Christ, who let you on the bus, Lydia?" she flipped her hair to the side, swiping the black haired girl across the face.

"Seriously, you look like a walking corpse!" she laughed and used her hand to gestured the girls body.

Though it sounds cruel, the blonde wasn't wrong. This midnight haired girl was too skinny. Her face looked drained and tired, her body shaking. She looked as if she were only bone.

"Ya know where corpses belong?" the blonde turned fully to face the other girl.

"On the ground!" with one hard shove, the skinny girl was thrown to the floor.

Her hoodie flew upwards, revealing her tanktop. Her ribs were showing through the fabric. She looked as thin as paper, like she could break at the slightest touch. But the girl fell with a bang, her head slamming onto the aisles hard floor. A whimper came from her mouth, her eyes watering. The driver hadn't noticed, as his eyes were fixed on the road. He had headphones in his ears.

The girl looked up towards Marinette. Her eyes pleading, asking for help. But that's not what she got. Marinette quickly turned her gaze out the window, leaving the defenseless girl to pick herself up.

Popularity is more important.

She told herself, hoping she would believe it.