The three girls slung their bags off their shoulders and two of them sat down, already in animated conversation. The third stumbles as the train judders into motion and she lands in the seat with an ungraceful flump. They are clearly only three from a larger group – these types of girls always are. They sit in a trio, facing each other to share the latest humiliation of the school; the kid who fell at lunch, the girl whose skirt was blown up, the boy who wet himself, it was all the same to them. Two of them, the first two to sit down, discuss it wildly, eyes flashing with malicious merriment as all the juicy details of the event unfold.

One governs them, her voice dominating over the other two if they speak at the same time. She widens her large doughy eyes to apply yet more makeup and her jaw hangs slack, revealing her pink rimmed braces flashing with saliva. A pink, fluffy bag is moved to her lap as she pulls out some lipstick, holding it poised momentarily as she says something that has to be heard. The lipstick is smothered on liberally as she basks in the attention of the other two, relishing in every second that she holds power over them before letting loose her information with a frivolous flick of the hand and rolling of the eyes.

The one she is talking to is her right hand girl. She is much more attractive than the ring leader, and knows it, and there is an aura of blatant smugness hanging in the air around her. Long, smooth ringlets fall over straight shoulders with bright eyes hiding behind her dark fringe. Her skin has the look of softness, with no signs of blemish, and her eyelashes flutter with delicate innocence. She laughs and her rose lips part in a sneer to show shining white teeth; glittering with glee and malice. With a flick of her head she threw the hair out of her eyes and the carriage is swamped with the brief, intoxicating scent of her perfume. There is a hidden flash in those bright eyes of hers; a thirst for power in that sparkling blue. She whispers something into the first girls’ ear, her tongue flicking between her lips as her eyes look around the room. Despite what many may think, she is the leader of the pack.

The third and final girl is the quietest. She is new to the group, and cowers away from attention like a scared mouse. Curly brown hair falls over her freckled face with small, bright eyes watching from behind the frizzy locks. She nervously fingered the stitching on her schoolbag – crafted into the name “Abbey” – and itched under her mauve blazer. The other two girls laughed and she weakly mimicked them; trying to laugh convincingly at a joke that she failed to hear and that she would have failed to understand.

Abbey had transferred from across the country, her parents sending her to private school after inheriting a large sum of money. She had moved from her humble high rise flat of fourteen years into a mansion in the country, the two girls with her being the next door neighbours. They were expected to be the best of friends.

The train shuddered to a halt and a group of boys climbed on. They shuffled their way down the aisle and past the three girls – two of whom began to giggle and whisper conspiratorially, throwing a glance at Abbey in the seat opposite. She did not notice them; she was too busy hiding her blushing face from the boy that had smiled at her, his smirk gleaming in the sunlight. They waited until the boys had shuffled past before converging into a huddle of hushed whispers. The train stopped again, and the three girls stood up to leave.

“Abbey!” a voice hissed in her ear. “Do what I told you!”

Abbey was in front, and she let out a sigh before folding up the waist of her skirt, lifting the hem above her knee and showing her bare legs. She hesitantly shuffled past the boys and walked out the door, watching the group out of the corner of her eye. An explosion went off in her stomach and there was a rush in her chest as she realised that they were looking over her with hungry eyes. She stepped onto the platform, biting her lip, and turned to the two girls while trying not to look too proud of what had happened.

“Good work.” One said, “Now, let’s get you some makeup.”

The wind blew some leaves around their feet, and on the other platform a child lost hold of a stuffed animal, causing it to fall into the dirt among the tracks.