Chapter 6
It’s Monday morning. First day of Senior year. Not just that, but I’m starting over in a new place with only one friend. Morella texted me to meet her in the dining hall so we could compare class schedules.
I push through the swing double doors and pause. It’s like a fancy version of a cafeteria. Counters for ordering food, round tables draped in actual tablecloths, and waiters refilling water glasses like this is a restaurant.
I order a simple breakfast, eggs and toast, and glance around.
I spot Morella stepping through the doors, wearing a breezy black sundress and chunky black sandals.
Her jet black hair hangs loose down her back, and her stacked necklaces glitter under the lights.
Unfortunately, her brother and his band of baboons trail in behind her.
Rafe’s in a fitted charcoal T-shirt and jeans that look like they were made for him.
His dark hair is styled to perfection. The top is long and slicked back, while the sides look like he just got a fresh fade.
Archer has on black jeans, black combat boots, and a black tee under a black leather jacket.
His bracelets are black, his rings are black.
The only things not black are his eyes and hair.
Which happens to be messy in the, I did it on purpose way.
Silas’ outfit is simple and similar to Rafe’s except his tee is white, not grey.
I roll my eyes and wave to Ella, nodding toward an open table. She spots me and starts heading my way, but just as she turns, Rafe grabs her arm and leans into her side.
I head off to the table, whether Morella’s coming or not. I’m not sitting with any of those guys. I drop my bag onto the table and slide into a seat, tucking one foot beneath me. From the front pocket of my bag, I fish out the class schedule and map I was given during orientation.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Rafe takes forever to get ready, believe it or not,” Morella says as she takes the seat next to me.
I glance over my shoulder.“Or not,” I shoot back, smirking.
I hate to admit it, but Rafe does always seem… put together. Hair styled just right, clothes that fit too well, and when I’ve been close enough, God help me, he smells really good. Clean, expensive, annoyingly intoxicating.
Morella slides into the seat across from me and drops her phone on the table with a dramatic groan. “If I had to listen to one more debate about whether pre-workout counts as breakfast, I was going to stab someone with a plastic fork.”
I blink. “Please tell me that wasn’t Rafe.”
“Oh no, that was Silas. Rafe was busy trying to tame his hair.”
I let out a short laugh. “Honestly, it shows. He looks like he walked out of a brooding bad-boy starter pack.”
Morella smirks. “You noticed, huh?”
I hum in agreement,“Anyway, want to compare schedules?”
Morella snatches the schedule right out of my hand. “Let’s see what we’re working with. What’s your first class?”
She scans the list, then breaks into a grin. “Ooh, we’ve got a couple classes together! This is going to be so fun.”
“Really? That’s great,” I say, leaning over to take another look. “I’ve got AP Calculus first.” I point to the top of the page.
Her smile falters.
“Oh… uh… yeah. So, funny thing,” she begins, voice already shifting into damage control mode. “You should probably know…”
“Ahem.”
Someone clears their throat next to us.
I glance to my right and spot three girls standing in a too-perfect line, like they’ve been choreographed.
The one in front, bleach blonde with crossed arms and an expression that screams impatient, looks me up and down.
The girl beside her looks like she’d rather be anywhere else, while the other two give off serious follower energy. Here for the performance, not the plot.
“Hello, Maddison…” Morella drawls, her voice thick with something that definitely isn’t enthusiasm.
“Morella,” the blonde replies, flashing a tight-lipped smile that belongs on a campaign poster, not a human face.
She shifts her gaze to me. “Hi. I’m Maddison,” she says, turning on a dazzling smile that doesn’t come close to reaching her eyes.
“I heard we were getting a new student, so I wanted to formally introduce myself.”
She glances pointedly at Morella. “I see you’ve already found yourself a great friend.”
“If you’re ever interested in… better friends,” she adds, her gaze snapping back to mine, “let me know.” The smirk that follows feels like a challenge.
Definitely not my kind of friend.
I glance at the girls behind Maddison, then back at her with a raised brow. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you, Maddison. I’m good here.” I turn back in my seat and refocus on the map like she’s already irrelevant.
“Well,” Maddison says sweetly, “you’re new. You’ll learn.”
“Enjoy your table,” she adds, looking past me toward Morella, “and your… company.” She turns on her heel, her girls falling in behind her like loyal handmaids.
As they walk away, I catch Maddison muttering something under her breath. I glance over my shoulder just in time to see them heading straight for Rafe, Silas, and Archer’s table. The mean girls and the mean boys. How typical. High school is universal after all.
“So… what were you going to say?” I ask, but before she can answer, the bell rings, loud and jarring, echoing through the open cafeteria.
Morella gives me a look. Almost… guilty?
We both grab our things and file out through the double doors, stepping into the warm morning air.
Students spill out into the courtyard in every direction, weaving between trees and brick paths, heading toward their classes.
Morella grabs my arm and pulls me to the edge of a walkway, behind a flowering hedge where it’s quieter.
“Okay look,” she whispers quickly. “We’ve only got a minute, so first off, I’m sorry.”
I frown. “Sorry for what?”
“That’s not important. There’s no time. But you need to know, you have at least one class with each of the guys.”
I blink. “Wait, each of them?”
She checks her phone and curses under her breath. “Shit—we’ve gotta go.”
“Morella!”
“Good luck!” she shouts, already jogging across the courtyard toward one of the buildings, her dress swaying behind her as she vanishes into the crowd.
I stand there for a second, the map crumpling a little in my hand, heart thudding harder than I want to admit. At least my first class is nearby. No sprinting required.
As I round the corner of the Calculus building, I try not to spiral. I share almost every class with at least one of the guys. Awesome. Just what every new girl dreams of. But why did Morella apologize?
I step through the door and pause, just for a second.
The classroom is… honestly kind of beautiful.
Rows of sturdy oak desks, not those sad plastic chairs with bolt-on writing arms I’m used to.
The floors are polished wood, the windows tall and lined with wide ledges where sunlight spills across a few scattered plants.
There’s even a wall of built-in shelves stacked with real books and models.
For a second, I feel excited. A new start.
A pretty classroom. The tiniest spark of hope.
Then I turn, scanning for an empty seat and stop cold.
Front and center, elbows on his desk, sits Rafe and he’s staring straight at me.
Just that piercing glare like I’ve personally offended him.
Ah. That’s what the apology was for. I curse Morella in my head, and turn down the nearest row, pretending I didn’t notice him.
“Don’t sit anywhere near me, Wendy.” he mutters as I pass.
I scoff, not even slowing down. “Wouldn’t dream of it. And that’s not my name.”
I make my way to the back and drop into the furthest seat I can find, my heart thudding a little harder than I’d like to admit.
The walk across the courtyard to the English building is short, but I spend every step of it glaring at Morella. “You knew he was in that class.”
“I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal!” she says, hugging her binder to her chest like it’ll protect her from my wrath.
I stop walking. “You literally apologized as you were running off.”
“Yeah, well, the bell rang. I didn’t have time to explain! And I figured… better to rip the Band-Aid off.”
I narrow my eyes. “Next time, just give me a warning so I can emotionally prepare for his death glare, okay?”
Morella winces. “Yeah. That’s fair.”
We take our seats near the back as the last of the students file in. Including Archer. Great.
After break, I head to Chemistry to find the worst imaginable thing. Silas.
He is leaning against the doorframe, greeting every girl who walks through with that signature grin. And since he’s tall, he is doing it by looking down their shirts.
Pig.
I try to sneak past him, but he throws his arm out across the doorway, blocking me, pinning me in place with a dazzling smile.
“Hey, Princess. Fancy seeing you here.” He tilts his head down just enough to stare at me through his lashes.
If he weren’t so annoying, I might admit his eyes were kind of beautiful, but he’s so full of shit, his eyes should be brown.
I roll my eyes and glare. “Hello, Silas. Please move.” I motion to his arm, letting every ounce of annoyance drip from my voice.
He shrugs and pushes off the frame, sweeping into an exaggerated bow and rolling his hand in the air. “Your Majesty,” he says, voice laced with mock chivalry.
I walk past him without another word, scanning the room like my life depends on it. At the back of the class, I spot a table with one seat already taken. I bolt for it and plop down before Silas can get any ideas about pairing up. The guy next to me glances over, clearly caught off guard.
“Best seat in the house, huh?” he asks, half-laughing.
“You have no idea,” I breathe.