Matilda Meme Novels & Stories

I stared at her for a second, letting my brain replay the memory in question, the wrong bathroom, the wrong stall, the wrong girl walking out with a bag full of sanitary pads and four random packs of panties. Of course, I remembered, how could I forget? “That’s impossible to forget,” I said dryly. “You’re… the stall-stealer.” Her grin widened, delighted. “My name is Matilda. I knew you wouldn’t forget me. I’m not easily forgotten, I leave my prints on the sand of time and that was such a… memorable day.” She leaned closer, lowering her voice like it was some private joke between us. “I still think about how flustered you looked.”

I dropped my keys in the foyer bowl, ready to sprint up the stairs and bury my face in a pillow. "Well, if it isn't Saint Emma." I froze. Matilda was lounging on the living room sofa, scrolling through her phone. She was wearing a silk robe that I knew she had stolen from my closet, and her nails were freshly painted a shade of red that looked exactly like the one Valerie Prescott wore. Of course. They were clones. "Hi, Matilda," I said, keeping my voice neutral. I started toward the stairs. "Mom said you were at the shelter again," she drawled, not looking up. "Did you save the puppies? Did you shovel the poop? You know they have actual employees for that, right?"

Nina placed an image in my head of that same rough, sandpapery hand, the one I had touched to activate this bond on the dance floor making a similar sound on my rear. It was so visual I could almost feel the burn on my skin as my own wolf turned betrayer. Nina is so set on pairing with Tange’s wolf as soon as possible. “Tell me about yourself then, I only know your name and that you’ve just turned eighteen.” From my curled up position on the floor I weighed up his offer. There didn’t seem to be any danger in filling him in on who I am. It was a fair enough question. “Okay, well I am Matilda, I’m the eldest of five sisters. I’ve got triplets Leona, Naomi and Eleanor and the youngest is Phoebe

Matilda had won the race by the narrowest of margins. Revenge had been quick in coming as Bree targeted Matilda's biggest weakness, her ego. Not exactly blessed by the boob fairy, the then brunette was always sensitive about the size of her breasts. So much so that she had taken to stuffing her bra at an early age. She was hardly the only girl to do so, but few took it to the extremes that she did. There was hardly a girl who shared a locker room with her that didn't know she was barely a B cup, much less the C she presented to the world. What Bree did was arrange a little demonstration that shared that information with the rest of the student body.

Cent asked Matilda since the latter was practically hungry every time that it would make Cent wonder who was the real daughter of Beelzebub the Glutton? “Do you think I will crawl at the early crack of the fucking dawn just to walk with you, girlie? Of course, I came here because for the first time you used your cell phone and texted me that breakfast is on you.” Matilda’s wriggling bony finger, with more flesh than her cheeks, pointed at Cent. Matilda continued, “So, let us go?” “Yeah. Whatever.” Cent mumbled as she followed Matilda who easily hustled her way through the crowd.

She let's out a loud laughter, looking up to the ceiling and back, giving me more reasons to believe that she has lost her senses. "Weed, darling? I don't smoke weed and even if I did, then it wouldn't be the expired kind," Matilda says in a casual voice as if those words alone are supposed to put me at ease or make me feel better. Somehow they manage to do the exact opposite of whatever she was hoping for.

She had been fine when he left this morning. "Matilda." "Mildred needs you," Matilda said almost immediately. "She is lost in thought, and one of her concerns is that you no longer love her." "May the gods forbid such thoughts," Morpheus replied as he breezed past Matilda. "100 laps each!" he shouted to the men as he moved away.

I stared at the screen, and my eyes widened at what I was seeing. It was a video. Me. Standing there at the party, holding the stupid box, frozen in place. Someone had zoomed in on my face—right at the moment Justin kissed Matilda. My mouth is slightly open. My eyes are glossy. They had slowed it down. And added cartoon tears streaming down my cheeks. The caption at the top read: “When you really thought you had a chance 💀." My stomach dropped. Below it: @MatildaOfficial: “Dress better next time, babe.”

He looked up and caught her staring at him. “Uh, hi,” she said awkwardly in a small voice that couldn’t be heard over the noise of the lawn mower. She was embarrassed to have been caught staring. The guy turned off the lawn mower. “Hi. I’m Matt. You’re are?” “Emilia. You’ve probably heard about me already…” “What?” “Those photos and the memes all over the internet yesterday. That was me.” “I don’t check the internet much.” “Thank God,” she muttered. “Huh?”

Staring at the stylized monogram 'X.V.LR' boldly written on the luxurious golden airframe, Matilda stood there contemplating whether to go inside or not, her long blonde hair dancing in the air behind her. Racing thoughts that made her escape reality filled her head as barely any of the things happening in the hangar came to her notice.