Sam was dancing round her room, pouting for her dresser mirror, and singing along to the music in the background. She tossed her hair, and preened, sang into her hairbrush, and dreamed of her next date with the quarterback.
In her own bedroom, Ashley watched her, watched the girl oblivious to all the pain she'd caused, all the abuse she'd spouted, every insult delivered as helpful advice, and only ever intended to help.
Sam was the blondest, most entitled brat, she'd ever had the misfortune to consider her friend in the past. Ashley felt embarrassed when she'd stood by, when she'd added her own catty insights. But now... Now, she could set things right.
"Goodbye, Sam Peters, hello Sakura Tanaka." she purred to herself.
Sam entirely blind to her own shrinking. As she dropped from 5' 8" down to 5' 2", her hair shifting from a cascading mane of blond falling half-way down her spine to a straighter pitch black, lacking bounce and shape.
Her singing became more heavily accented, her English more of a struggle.
Sam didn't was proud of her body, and took a break from dancing around the room to admire her reflection. Though she was Japanese, she'd been blessed with more curves than might be expected. She admired her bust, doubtless benefiting from a more American diet.
Most Japanese could only be proud of their long, slender legs. But she had the curves as well. If only her mother would pay for that laser surgery, she could abandon those ugly geek glasses.
- - - - -
Ashley saw the new girl's pride. That wasn't meant to happen, she wasn't meant to be happy. A snarl disfigured her face as she thought of how to escalate things.
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