Operation Ascendancy: Sabotaged
Wednesday, February 12thDear Diary,
Let it be known: I came. I planned. I slayed.Until she showed up.
Let me rewind.
Today was Day 3 of my Operation Ascendancy, the carefully orchestrated campaign to assert social dominance over the student body. My strategy: infiltrate the elite, charm the insecure, and become the unspoken standard of power and fashion.
Step 1: The Breakfast Table Maneuver.I arrived in the dining hall five minutes late — fashionably, not chaotically — in a tailored skirt (hemmed just above regulation), a silk hair ribbon, and lip gloss so dewy it could have ended a drought. I chose the second table from the front: not desperate for attention, but just close enough to suggest importance. I began sharing "casual" stories from Manhattan — rooftop parties, art galleries, the time I mistook Zendaya's assistant for a waiter (he was holding champagne).
Three girls immediately laughed. One asked for my TikTok. One gave me a protein bar. Success.
Step 2: The Courtyard Coup.At lunch, I made my debut on the benches by the courtyard fountain — apparently the place to be seen. I had just begun a flawless retelling of my run-in with Gigi Hadid at SoHo House when she arrived.
Her name? Cressida Bellamy.(Yes. That's a real name. Let that sink in.)
Cressida is a Year 12. Tall. Polished. Smells like money. Her ponytail is the type that requires four separate salon appointments a week. Her blazer has gold embroidery. Her eyebrows are weaponized. She did not sit — she descended, like she was born on a yacht and never touched the ground.
She looked at me. Then looked through me."New girl," she said. "How quaint."
Quaint.A word usually reserved for doilies and dying towns.
Naturally, I smiled — my trademark slow, sweet, lethal smile."Cressida," I said. "How refreshing. You're the first person here with decent hair."
That got a few gasps. One snort. A girl named Lily dropped her fork.
Cressida arched an eyebrow. "Charming. I do hope you last longer than the last Manhattan transfer. She cried after one week."
To which I replied, "Well, I don't cry, darling. I get even."
It was delicious. For one glittering second, the table held its breath.
But then… she smiled.Not with her mouth. With her eyes. And that, Diary, is how you know you're in real trouble. When a girl smiles with her eyes, she's already plotting your fall.
I later learned Cressida is the Head of House for Year 12, captain of the debate team, and the daughter of some kind of aristocrat who owns half of Perth. Her mother was a runway model. Her father once hosted a fundraiser with Princess Mary of Denmark.
She is basically the Antichrist in couture.
And the worst part? She's good. Smart, strategic, socially untouchable. I watched her dismantle a girl for wearing the wrong shade of pink lipstick — with one look. One.
This changes everything.
Operation Ascendancy is no longer a takeover. It's a war.
I've updated my tactical board:
Cressida Bellamy: Primary Threat. Do not underestimate.
Lily Wu: Wavered under pressure. Possible recruit.
Juniper Cross: Cressida's second-in-command. Probably the brains. Must befriend.
Ava Fernandes: Seems impressed by me. Might be useful.
Leonora: Distracted by something weird and chapel-related. Honestly, not helpful.
I don't plan to lose.But I do plan to play smarter.
And I will not stop until I dethrone Cressida Bellamy and have the entire student body quoting me like scripture.
Let the games begin.
Unbothered. Moisturized. In my power.Leoni Cortzel