AUTHOR: ENOUGH TODDLER PHASE AND MID SCHOOL .. LET'S GO TO THE INTERESTING PART .
.THE HIGH SCHOOL.
Buckle up readers .. it's gonna be a long drive...
Austin High was no ordinary school.
It was a battlefield, a circus, and a kingdom all wrapped in brick walls and graffiti-stained lockers—think "Class of '25" scrawled in neon spray paint and "Detention 4 Life" scratched into dented metal.
And in this jungle, there wasn't one apex predator there were two.
The air buzzed with whispers, the halls clanged with slammed lockers, and every teacher's coffee trembled. Fate had a sick sense of humor, and it was laughing now.
Sofia's Rule
Sofia Roosevelt didn't walk the halls of Austin High—she glided.
A long mane of glossy black hair framed her face, her eyes sharp enough to cut glass. Her lips always curled into a smirk that spelled trouble.
Her uniform skirt was tailored half an inch shorter—just enough to scandalize the dress code without a detention slip.
Every step in her red designer shoes echoed like a warning bell: the Queen is here.
Click-click-click, her heels snapped on the tiles, a metronome of menace.
And everyone knew better than to cross her.
Sofia's bullying wasn't fists or shoves. No—hers was an art.
She ruined reputations with a single whisper, flipped friendships with a wink, and destroyed confidence with a sarcastic laugh. Her hazel eyes scanned for weakness like a hawk circling prey.
A girl once wore the same skirt as her? By day's end, Sofia had convinced half the school the poor girl copied her because she "had no personality." "Imitation's flattery,"
A boy dared to reject her party invite? Sofia made sure his crush knew he still slept with a teddy bear. By lunch, "Teddy Tim" trended on the school's secret X group.
Her favorite pastime? Picking targets who thought they were safe. The shy freshman with homemade cookies? Sofia swapped the sugar with salt, then loudly praised how "unique" they tasted until the girl cried. "Bold flavor choice," Sofia said, batting lashes, as tears hit the lunch table.
The basketball captain who scoffed at her fake confession? By next day, the school believed he still wet his bed. "Captain Soaker," kids whispered, snickering as he slunk past.
Today, she stood by her locker, surrounded by her loyal "court"—three girls who obeyed her every nod like trained poodles in plaid skirts. "Watch this," Sofia whispered, pointing at a nervous freshman trying to balance his lunch tray. His hands shook, spaghetti wobbling like a Jenga tower.
She extended one stiletto-clad foot. A casual flick.
The tray went flying. Spaghetti showered across the hallway—splat-splat-splat, sauce splattering like a crime scene. The freshman froze, horrified, as laughter rippled through the crowd.
Sofia raised her eyebrows innocently, her smirk sharper than her eyeliner. "Oh, sorry, did I trip you? You really should watch where you're going." Her voice was silk, her smile poison.
The court laughed. The crowd laughed. A jock hooted, "Spaghetti Shower's the new mascot!" The freshman's face burned red, muttering apologies as he scooped noodles.
Sofia smirked. Another pawn crushed. Another victory sealed.
She didn't need fists. Her weapons were rumors, charm, and manipulation.
A raised brow, a cruel laugh, and reputations crumbled like sandcastles. By week two, girls copied her ribbon-tied hair, boys begged for her glance, but none dared defy her.
She was the Queen of Austin High, and the crownsparkling enough to blur the eye sights.
Louis's Rule
If Sofia's reign was a chessboard, Louis Astor's was a boxing ring.
He didn't glide. He stomped. Every step shook the floorboards, every slam of his locker sent echoes through the hall. His sneakers squeaked like war drums, leaving scuff marks teachers cursed.
His messy dark hair fell across his forehead, his jaw clenched tight, and his storm-grey eyes dared anyone to look too long. One glare, and kids dropped their phones mid-selfie.
Where Sofia used words, Louis used fists. Once, a senior twice his size tried to shove him in gym class.
Louis knocked him out cold with one punch. The senior woke up seeing stars, mumbling, "Never again." Since then, no one brushed shoulders with him without apologizing first.
His bullying? Simple: intimidation.
A junior holding a math book upside-down? Louis snatched it, tossed it down the hall, and growled, "Go fetch." The book skidded into a trash can; the kid sprinted.
A sophomore dared sit at his lunch table? Louis and his gang lifted the tray and dumped it in the trash. "Table's taken," he'd snarl, cracking knuckles for effect.
Detention? He practically had a reserved seat, complete with "Louis wuz here" carved into the desk.
Today, he leaned against the trophy case, arms crossed, his leather jacket creaking, watching a trembling sophomore try to unlock his locker.
Louis grinned, teeth flashing like a wolf's. "You know, if you're that nervous, maybe you don't deserve to be here." He slammed the locker shut—BANG—inches from the kid's fingers. The boy yelped, scurried away like a frightened mouse. "Run faster next time!" Louis called, chuckling.
Louis thrived on confrontation. A nerd bumped him? Backpack on the flagpole. "Fly high, brainiac!" his crew jeered. A teacher scolded him? His car tires went flat—mysteriously. "Coincidence," Louis shrugged, winking at his posse.
But he wasn't just a thug.
He was strategic.
He knew how far to push without expulsion, how to frustrate teachers into silence, how to build loyalty among weaker boys who clung to him like shadows.
His gang—three wiry dudes in knockoff sneakers—nodded like bobbleheads at his every word.
Within months, Louis wasn't just the strongest kid—he was the unquestioned King of Austin High. His name was whispered like a curse; his smirk ruled the halls.
The Clash
Kingdoms can't have two rulers.
The moment came mid-morning. The halls thrummed with chaos—lockers clanging, sneakers squeaking, a stray football sailing past. Then, silence fell like a guillotine.
Sofia, fresh from her "trip and spill" triumph, strutted down the hall with her court trailing, their giggles sharp as glass.
Louis, still laughing with his gang, rounded the corner from the opposite side, his crew's hoots echoing like a pack of hyenas.
Their eyes locked.
Sofia's hazel gaze burned; Louis's grey stare sparked. For a heartbeat, the hallway held its breath. A dropped pencil rolled, untouched.
Sofia tilted her head, smirk curling like a whip. "Still pretending you're king, Astor? That crown's looking rusty."
Louis raised an eyebrow, his grin sharp and dangerous. "And your throne's wobbling, Roosevelt. Careful—glitter don't hold up in a real fight."
"Ooooh!" the crowd gasped. Phones whipped out, filming. A freshman whispered, "They're gonna end each other."
Queen. King. One school. No surrender.
A sophomore muttered, "Oh no… the storm's about to start." Another hissed, "Bet on explosions by lunch."
Neither moved. Neither spoke. They glared across the battlefield of lockers, silently declaring war. Sofia's ribbons fluttered like battle flags; Louis's fist twitched like a loaded gun.
The bell rang. The hallway erupted—students rushing, shouting, dodging. But Sofia and Louis stayed frozen, eyes locked, until a janitor's mop bumped them apart. Austin High wasn't big enough for both of them.
Then it happened. A glittery note slipped from Sofia's locker, landing at Louis's feet. He snatched it, smirking—until he read it. His face froze. "You didn't," he growled.
Sofia's laugh was pure venom. "Oh, I did. Check the cafeteria board, 'king.'"
The crowd buzzed. "What's on it?" "A prank?" "Oh, crap, RUN!"
Louis bolted, Sofia's cackle chasing him. The war wasn't coming—it was here.
Sofia: Well, well, readers know who's the real Queen to support.
Louis: Oh, shut up! Why back a sparkly wannabe when the King's here?
Author: Guys, please! Let me end this chapter in peace!
Both Sofia and Louis roll their eyes, smirking secretly
PLEASE SUPPORT,
CHAOS GUARANTEED FROM,
🤜 SOFIA AND LOUIS 🤛