"Renly's an asshole."

"It's not like I'm angry he came out. I just—he didn't even mention it to me. We've been bearding since eighth grade and he can't even give me a quick, 'Hey Marg, out of the closet and into the frying pan.' And he waited until right before prom ballots are due."

"Whatever, you're still a shoo-in for queen. Is there anyone on campus you haven't force fed a cupcake with your face on it?"

"Myrcella. She's gluten intolerant and I just can't get a gluten-free cake to come together. I made her sugar cookies with pink icing. Also, not the point!" Margaery slumped against her locker, dropping her bag at her feet. "Every time I walk by someone I can tell they've been talking about me."

"People always talk about you." Arya tilted her head and motioned for Margaery to move from in front of her locker. Arya spun the dial on Margaery's lock, 05—30—25, as she listened to Margaery talk.

"Not like this, if people don't think I'm some prissy homophobe they think I'm a lesbian." She pulled out her AP Calculus textbook and Margaery's AP Comparative Government and Politics notebook. Arya grabbed the strap of Margaery's bag and stuck her notebook between a half empty bottle of water and her phone.

"You are a lesbian," Arya said absentmindedly, offloading her tattered hardcover for English into Margaery's locker along with a dozen crumpled receipts, a single sock and a three day old banana. Arya bit her lip and peeked at Margaery, to see if she was glaring at her but she was staring into the middle distance, brow furrowed. She would chew me out for shoving all this crap in here if she wasn't so distracted. And distraught.

"Yeah but, they all think Renly is so brave for coming out, so of course that makes me a coward closet-case." Margaery pouted, toying with one of the strings on Arya's hoodie.

"Which is bullshit."

"Total," Margaery lowered her voice to a whisper, "'bullshit', but—no one wants a 'coward' for a queen."

"Prom queen." Margaery sneered, upturned nose crinkling. Arya clicked Margaery's green padlock closed and slammed her locker door.

"My mother was prom queen and so was Grandmother. All my life they've told me how politics is like prom. You have to play the game and play it well and make people love you for it. I'll never be President if I can't even win a stupid high school popularity contest, which means your VP spot is out the window."

"How will I ever find the will the go on?"

"I'd wind up losing a mayoral election at this point and end up barely holding onto my seat on the city council year after year." Margaery shuddered cartoonishly but Arya could tell she was genuinely spiraling. Stupid Renly. She leaned against the lockers beside her and squeezed her hand. Margaery squeezed back twice and felt Arya begin to rub soothing little circles on her hand with her thumb. Margaery could hardly believe how far they'd come from those strangers on the track team Arya's freshmen year. She couldn't imagine her life without Arya.

"You told me if it weren't for Renly, you'd have come out years ago. Why not do it now, ride that rainbow to victory?"

"Even if I came to school tomorrow riding a unicorn and wearing a pride flag toga, at best I'd get a couple of pity votes while Loras and Renly sweep the rest. Everyone knows that the prom king and queen are always a couple." Margaery glanced back at Arya, examining her features in profile. Beautiful. She perked. "Oh my god, it's perfect."

She did a little wiggle, grinning and gave Arya's hoodie string a sharp tug so it bounced up. Arya batted her hand away with a huff.

"Whatever it is, the answers no."

"Rude. What if it's something cool like, …arson?" Arya raised one dark eyebrow.

"It won't be. Also, arson?" Margaery laughed at Arya's bemused look. "It'll be something stupid like having me mount a guerrilla prom campaign to rally the weirdo vote."

"No, it's much better." Margaery leaned in close to Arya and tucked a strand of unruly hair behind her left ear. Arya wet her lips and leaned in the slightest bit. "You and me, king and queen."

"Worse, so much worse." Arya jerked away from Margaery, zipping up her backpack roughly. She could almost feel tears gathering in her eyes and she desperately willed them away with rapid blinks.

"It's perfect. You and I go Facebook official, we sicken people with our love. We make out on Snapchat," Margaery's fist hit her locker door with a thud, startling the passerbys, "in front of people's lockers. We infiltrate their minds. The time comes for everyone to fill out their ballot, who could it be but us?"

"I thought you didn't want the pity vote."

"I'll do a big, sappy post on Instagram with a photo of you and me all about how hard it's been to keep our secret, but how happy we are to finally get to be together for real. We'll be the most mushy, in love fake couple ever. No one's going to be thinking about Renly shirking me."

"No, I mean," Arya gestured at herself with one hand, shoulders sagging, "me."

"Arya, you're a babe and a half." Margaery tugged up the edge of Arya's t-shirt to expose a pale sliver of her abs. "Look at your hot bod."

"Okay, Regina George. I don't understand why you don't just get an actual girlfriend."

"There's only one girl in the world that belongs on that stage next to me and it's not some rando from the GSA. Think about how good that crown would look on your trophy shelf. And it was actually Janis."

"I hate that you know that."

"Come on, Arya. The coolest girls in school and the most popular. We'd be unstoppable."

"Don't be a kiss ass, Marg." Arya bit her lip. "If we're doing this, we're doing it right."

"Yes." Margaery grinned, triumphant. "How should we—?"

"With a bang," Arya cut her off. She virtually lunged at Margaery, pressing her into the lockers as the metal clanged all around them, hovering a hairbreadth away from her lips. Margaery could feel the eyes all around them even as hers drifted closed. Arya closed the final distance, kissing her softly for a moment before nipping at her bottom lip with a quiet growl. She threaded her hand through Margaery's hair, shielding her head from hitting the metal as she continued to press her against the lockers, that awful clanging sound echoing through the courtyard like demonic birdsong. A soft sound escaped Margaery's throat.

"And a whimper."