Chapter 8
Harper Hillstrom
Itrailed behind Melody, her petite frame weaving effortlessly through the maze of tables and throngs of students who looked like they”d pranced out of a supernatural Vogue edition.
”Here,” Melody said, nodding towards an ornate table that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. ”Top-level students only. You’ll fit right in.”
”Right,” I scoffed under my breath, tugging at my shirt. Top level? More like a top circus act with the way my life”s been turned upside down.
She handed me a menu that felt oddly warm to the touch. ”Just tick off what you want, then set it down. It’ll do the rest.”
”Sounds easy enough,” I muttered, sceptically eyeing the parchment-like sheet. My fingers danced hesitantly before marking an iced coffee and an apple. Basic. Safe. I wasn”t in the mood for any breakfast that could potentially sprout wings or sing opera.
”Go on,” she urged, her voice laced with a soft excitement.
I placed the menu down, half-expecting it to burst into flames. Instead, it shimmered, lines blurring and colours swirling, and then there it was – an iced coffee that looked like it had been crafted by artisanal baristas and an apple so red it could”ve been plucked from some enchanted forest.
”Shit,” I breathed out, part awe, part fear wrestling within me. “Could have used one of these party tricks at home”
”Magic isn”t a trick here,” Melody corrected with a gentle smile, watching me with eyes that held stories of their own. ”It’s as real as it gets.”
I wrapped my fingers around the cold glass, the chill grounding me as I took a tentative sip. The coffee was a bittersweet cascade, perfect to the last drop. I bit into the apple; its crispness snapped like secrets breaking.
”Welcome to Oakland Harbour,” she said, toasting me with an imaginary glass. ”Where the impossible is just another Tuesday.”
”Or a really trippy dream,” I added, still not quite believing my reality. ”Thanks, Melody. For... well, everything.”
”Anytime, Harper,” she replied, her kindness wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
The clatter and murmur of the dining hall dwindled to a low drone as they approached, their heels clicking on the polished floor like the ticking of a bomb about to explode. The leader, the embodiment of every teen drama queen bee, with her hair cascading in golden waves, led the charge. The other two trailed just a step behind.
”Look what the cat dragged in,” The blonde drawled, a smirk playing on her lips as she”d just bitten into the juiciest secret.
”Machine”s on the fritz,” The other quipped, eyeing me up and down with a disdain that could curdle milk. ”No way you”ve got four powers. It must be your lucky day, ugly duckling.”
The last snickered, her laughter a jagged edge scraping against my patience. ”Looks like charity cases are in season.”
I took another bite of my apple, the crunch loud in my ears, buying a moment before I responded. I wasn”t here to make friends—or enemies—but these girls clearly didn”t get the memo.
”Listen,” I began, the words sharp as shattered glass, ”I don”t know what back-asswards logic you”re running on, but you can save it. I”m not interested in whatever mean girl bullshit script you think we”re acting out.” I met the leader’s gaze head-on, not blinking, not backing down. ”So how about you prance along on your little power trip somewhere else?”
”Excuse me?” Her voice rose an octave, her composure cracking like thin ice under heavy boots.
”Did I stutter?” My heart was a drumbeat in my chest, fast and furious. ”Avoid me. It”ll save us all a lot of time.”
They looked at each other, their expressions flickering between disbelief and outrage. I could practically see the cogs turning in their pretty heads, trying to figure out if I was serious. Spoiler alert: dead serious.
”Whatever,” The leader spat out finally, flipping her hair over her shoulder with practised indignity.
I was still smouldering from their snide remarks when Melody”s voice cut through the tension, sharp and unwavering. ”You know, you”re actually at the wrong table Jessica.”
It”s no surprise that her name is Jessica. In my experience, every Jessica I”ve met has been someone I”ve wanted to punch in the face.
Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows arched in disbelief. ”Excuse me?”
”Let me spell it out,” Melody said, her tone dripping with condescension. ”This is the table for top-tier students—those with three powers or more.”
A collective gasp rose around us, a symphony of scandalised murmurs. I bit back a smirk. Oh, this was going to be good.
”Are you implying we don’t belong?” One of the minion’s voices trembled with barely contained anger, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. The other just stood there, her face paling, as if the ground beneath her had shifted.
”Right on the nose, sweetheart.” Melody tapped the tabletop mockingly. ”Two powers each doesn”t cut it here.”
”Impossible.” Jessica”s voice cracked like thin ice. ”We”ve always sat here with the boys.”
”Not anymore, and the boys are not here to say differently” Melody replied coolly.
”Whatever,” Jessica spat out, her composure cracking. ”This place has gone to shit anyway.” She pivoted on her heel, a flounce in her step meant to convey indifference, but I could taste the bitterness in her retreat.
”Come on, girls,” she sneered over her shoulder. ”Let”s leave this bitch to enjoy her special table.”
I watched them go, their backs rigid with outrage. Their insults lingered in the air, but they didn”t sting—not anymore. Now, they just seemed... pathetic.
”Thanks for that,” I said, genuine gratitude warming my chest.
”Anytime. Besides, it”s not every day I get to put the ”mean girls” in their place.” Her eyes twinkled mischievously. ”It”s kind of exhilarating.”
”Melody, defender of the downtrodden tables.” I chuckled, the absurdity of the morning washing over me.
”Sounds like a crappy superhero name,” she joked, but there was pride in her voice.
”Better than being known as the high-and-mighty two-power trio,” I quipped back, my mood lifting despite myself.
”Harper,” she said suddenly, her expression turning serious, ”you”re going to ruffle feathers here. It”s inevitable. But remember those who matter don”t mind and those who mind...”
”Don”t matter,” I finished for her, the words brushing against the walls I”d built around myself.
”Exactly.” Melody”s hand found mine across the table, her touch light but grounding. ”Now, let”s eat. This drama has made me starving.”
”Agreed.” I turned my attention back to the food that had appeared before me, the apple now looking far more appealing than any power play.