Chapter 6 #2
“The brunette is Ava Grey. Her family are big in the acting industry and her dad’s a film director.
One of the best, so they have a hell of a lot of money.
And a hell of a lot of popularity. And her brother’s a big thing here, I guess,” she continues, but it looks as if she’s really fighting against herself here, trying not to roll her eyes.
“The one with the freaky glare is Zia Lin,” she says, and I immediately know who she’s talking about. I saw her in the hallway with Berlin.
“She’s like some genius coder or something.
Probably why she’s always on that phone.
My friend was in her computer science class and told me all about her hacking skills.
” She leans in closer, looks around and whispers, “Apparently, a girl in the class said something about Ava that Zia apparently didn’t like, then bam, in seconds Zia sets some virus on her that they still can’t figure out.
And as if that isn’t enough, she hacks into her camera roll and finds a video of her with some other guy and posts it on the school website.
Her parents made her pull out of school and everything. ”
For a moment I’m stunned, but then I think—really think —about the expression on her face and coldness in her eyes and I’m no longer shocked. In fact, it makes perfect sense.
I shouldn’t be shocked when this is the kind of school I go to.
“Be careful with her though, she may talk less but she’s crafty,” Lilia adds, staring at me with so much intensity I struggle to maintain eye-contact.
Yeah, I can believe that.
“And I’m guessing you know the rest,” Lilia says, her voice light but pointed as she nods toward Will, Liam, and Christian.
I follow her gaze.
I nod. “Yeah. Hard to miss.”
Lilia hums, like she agrees, but there’s something else in it too, amusement maybe, or warning.
“But one of them isn’t here,” she says, and I feel her watching me even as I keep my eyes on the back row.
My stomach tightens slightly.
I already know who she means.
“Kai,” I say, carefully. Not a question.
Lilia’s lips tug into a smirk. “Yep. The golden boy himself.”
She leans in, lowering her voice. “He misses classes a lot, and no one dares say anything. He’s top of all his classes anyway.”
I blink. “Not even the teachers?”
She laughs once under her breath. “Especially not the teachers. They love him. Can’t help it. He’s their prized student. Even they get flustered around him.”
She shakes her head slightly. There’s disbelief in the gesture, but there’s also something else.
Admiration, I realize.
Someone across the row, some guy with half a bagel in his hand, chimes in. Low enough for only the small group around us to hear. “I heard he only sleeps like two hours a night. That’s how he’s so ahead of everyone.”
Lilia sighs, already over it.
But the guy keeps going, clearly oblivious to her dismissal. “I mean, it’s easy to be brilliant when you have no social life.”
Someone two seats over snorts. “Right, because you’d be a genius too if you skipped brunch.”
Before Bagel Boy can defend himself, another voice cuts through. A girl with short curls and winged eyeliner, legs crossed poshly. “I heard he speaks, like, seven languages. Fluent.”
Another girl chimes in from behind me, whispering just loud enough to be heard. “Didn’t he teach himself piano in a week?”
Then someone else says, half-laughing. “He took his A-Level Physics exam at sixteen and finished it forty minutes early. Then just sat there reading a book.”
A beat.
“In French.”
Lilia exhales through her nose. “Okay, now you’re all making stuff up.”
***
I try so hard to focus on the teacher’s lesson, so hard it actually makes my brain hurt a little bit.
Believe it or not, it’s fairly difficult to absorb the massive amounts of information he’s spurting out at the speed of light, but just as I start to really immerse myself in the subject, a faint buzzing sound erupts from my bag.
My heart skips a beat with a glimmer of hope.
Perhaps my sisters have finally replied to my text?
Slowly, I take the phone out of my bag, hoping for a message from either of my sisters.
Confusion flickers across my face.
Unknown number?
But it’s the words that send a shiver down my spine.
What if I told you it wasn’t your imagination?
A wave of unease washes over me, causing my grip on the phone to tighten.
My mind races, desperately searching for some kind of explanation.
Because I hardly ever get texts, least of all threatening ones.
It must be some kind of sick joke, a prankster who just happened to pick my number.
But how? And why? I’m not exactly important here, so it wouldn’t do them any good.
I can’t even begin to understand why someone would send a message like that, especially since I had felt something was off yesterday.
I let out a nervous chuckle. “Wrong number,” I mutter under my breath, trying hard and inevitably failing at convincing myself that it’s nothing more than a tasteless, dumb prank.
But another message comes through.
Do you want to know what really happened to your father?
My heart plummets. Did someone hear what happened to my father, and is now trying to taunt me as a sick joke?
It must be.
Then why doesn’t it feel like it?
My heart pounds in my chest, and a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. The more I try to convince myself it means nothing, the deeper the awful, bitter realisation sinks in. If it’s such a joke, why does it feel so invasive? So personal, to the point I feel sick.
How dare they? I glance around the classroom, my eyes darting from one face to another, searching for any signs. Any signifiers. Anything at all. Because for all I know, they could even be here, hidden behind a facade. Watching. In fact, that’s actually a massive possibility.
Maybe.
But before I can even regain my composure, or at the least slow the ruthless beating of my heart, the teacher’s voice pulls me out of whatever horrified state I was in.
“Miss, phones are strictly prohibited in my classroom. I suggest you put it away immediately.”
Everyone’s gaze turns to me again.