Rebuilt For Revenge (Editing)

10|

Octavia:

"Ouch."

"That's what you get."

He rubs the back of his head, giving me a glare sharp enough to kill small animals. "What exactly have I done that warranted such unprovoked violence?"

"You didn't tell me you had a son."

His face says you cannot be serious. "One—you didn't ask. Two—I don't owe random students my personal details. Three—hit me again, and I'll put you in Room 120."

Room 120.
My chest clenches. My brain flashes to cold walls, the burn of metal, the way your body jerks when current rips through it. 109 all over again.

No. Not now. Not him.

"And what's in Room 120?" I lean back, crossing my legs like a queen on her throne.

"Detention."

Relief floods out in an exaggerated sigh. "Oh thank god. Thought you were about to say torture chamber. Though, honestly, same thing."

He looks at the clock, then back at me like I've ruined his entire morning. "It's ten o'clock. You're already here. Didn't you listen when I told you not to bother me this morning?"

"I did listen," I say brightly. "But it's not my fault your teachers are allergic to fun. One of them asked me to share an inspirational quote. I didn't have one, so..." I hold up my phone. "Google."

He frowns. "That's why you're here?"

"Well, not exactly. Things... escalated. Words were exchanged. She threw her bag at me, demanded it back, and—"

"Don't tell me you—"

"Of course not. She started the war, she can finish it." I grin.

He blinks at me like I'm some kind of anomaly. "You're... unpredictable."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

I scroll, grinning wider. "Here. Found it. Never trust an atom. They make up everything."

He stares. "That's inspirational to you?"

"Oh no, it's just funny."

"...Right."

"What's right?" I glance sharply to the right wall, dead serious.

He drags a hand down his face. "This conversation."

"What conversation?"

"JUST STOP."

I slump forward dramatically, hands clasped in fake remorse. "Sorry..."

His shoulders relax. His voice softens. "No, no—it's fine." There's even a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Got him. Hook, line, and sinker.

"Anyway," he clears his throat, back to business, "you should go. Break time. I'll be gone this afternoon—meetings."

"Almost felt sorry for you. Almost."

"Thanks. You're ever so kind."

I grin as I leave.

I need to get closer.

-------------------------------------

"Why would you accept the fight, you idiot?"

"I was the only one who could do it," Ashton's voice crackles through the phone, weak and broken.