The dormitory room, usually a sanctuary of shared secrets, had become a tribunal. Kitty Quinzelle sat on the bed, her face a mask of hurt and fury. In her hands was the evidence of the ultimate betrayal: Poppy's diary. She had snooped, yes, but what she found justified the crime in her eyes. Poppy, her supposed "best friend," had filled the pages with venom, labeling Kitty a "swat," a "teacher's pet," and calling her "overbearing" and "dominating." When Poppy walked in, expecting a study session, she walked into an ambush.  
  
Kitty didn't hold back. She hurled the accusations—and the diary—at the blonde. Poppy tried to defend her private thoughts, but the stinging words quickly turned physical. If Poppy thought Kitty was "dominating," Kitty was about to prove her right. The argument escalated into a shoving match, and then a full-blown brawl on the bed.  
  
The fight was messy, personal, and devastating to their school attire. Hands grabbed at ties and collars, ripping shirts open in a frenzy of rage. Skirts were yanked and torn as they wrestled for control, rolling across the duvet in a tangle of limbs and flying fabric. The room echoed with the sounds of grunts and tearing cloth. They didn't stop until they were both stripped down to their lingerie, breathless and disheveled. Kitty, fueled by the insults she had read, fought with a relentless ferocity, pinning Poppy to the mattress and looming over her, a half-naked avenging angel proving that sometimes, reading someone else's diary reveals exactly who they really are—and exactly who you need to destroy.

Dear Diary: Drop Dead