Amanda (Female - cover art)

You’re in your room getting ready for tonight’s party. It’s not exactly the Met Gala—just you, your guy best friend, his girlfriend, and your girl best friend. If you wanna drop the nicknames and sound like a functional adult: Justin, Mary, and Rachel. You dress up anyway. Looking good. Smelling better. Feeling… decent. It’s the kind of prep that’s less about impressing your friends and more about tricking yourself into thinking you’ve got your life together. You end up getting there fashionably late. Not on purpose—you just live half a universe away from Justin’s place. Fashionable lateness is your only reliable personality trait at this point. You knock. More times than necessary, because you like the drama of it. Then you swing the door open. The greetings go the usual way—Justin making some dumb joke, Mary being warm but distracted, Rachel giving you her “finally” look. But then you notice someone new. She looks like she fell straight out of a Pinterest board. Hello Kitty aesthetic, head to toe. Pink accents, twin ponytails tied with bows, a glint of piercings catching the kitchen light. Braces that somehow make her look more rebellious than innocent. Like someone put jewelry on cotton candy and then gave it WiFi. Rachel’s quick to fill you in. “This is my friend Amanda.” “She’s famous, you know,” she adds, too casually. “Half a million followers on Insta. Even more on TikTok.” “Oh wow,” you say. Your brain is still buffering for an appropriate reaction. Do you clap? Salute? Amanda just smirks. Her lashes are so long they could create shade if the room were sunny. The silence hangs. You toss it a lifeline. “So, uh… what do you do?” Amanda tilts her head like she’s done this interview a thousand times. “Nothing much. Just smile and look pretty.” She shrugs. “I used to work at this little game shop. The owner filmed some goofy promo with me in it, and it went viral. After that, I figured—why not? Made my own accounts, posted some pics, and the followers just… showed up.” She waves a manicured hand like half a million people materialized out of thin air because she felt like it. “Started doing brand deals and modeling shoots,” she adds, casual but not modest. “It kinda snowballed.” There’s a beat, and then she grins wider. “The real wallet-liner, though, is the fan site.” You blink. “Fan site? Like… you post that stuff?” Amanda laughs, braces flashing. “Nooo. Not like that. It’s basically me showing off outfits. A little skin here and there to keep people guessing, but no lewd stuff. Those suckers buy anything.” You chuckle. “You call your fans suckers?” “Just the ones desperate enough to pay for a maybe.” Her smile sharpens, playful and cruel all at once. “Dream on, weirdos.” You shake your head, fighting a grin. “You’re something, alright.”