Rebuilt For Revenge (Editing)

6|

Octavia:

"Trixi, Octavia, and Dylan!" a voice called out.

"Yep," I answered without even opening my eyes, leaning against the wall like I was melting into it. It felt like we'd been waiting here for decades.

And of course, the prick sitting next to me hadn't stopped glaring holes into the side of my face. Dylan: professional soul-burner with his eyes.

"Mr. Matthews can see you now," the receptionist said, smiling warmly at us. Not one of those fake plastic smiles either, more like the kind you don't immediately want to punch.

"Finally," I muttered, pushing open the office door. "What was he doing in there, rearranging his paperclips?"

I dropped into the same chair as earlier, sighing dramatically. "Oh thank God, it's still comfy. You didn't let anyone else sit here, right?"

Matthews looked up from his mountain of paperwork, deadpan. "It isn't your cha—Octavia, stop writing on it."

"What? I'm just claiming it. Property laws, you know? Initials make it official."

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea how much these chairs cost?"

"Nope. Didn't buy them. But go on, thrill me with the number."

The room went so quiet you could hear the pen click in his hand. Dylan shrank into his seat like a scolded toddler, Trixi looked like she was trying not to breathe.

"Relax, people," I said, spreading my hands. "If anyone's gonna faint, at least give me time to film it."

And then it happened—just a flicker, but I caught it. The corner of Matthews's mouth twitched upward before he schooled it flat again.

Progress.

"Alright," he said, voice steady. "Why are you here? Make it quick. I don't have all day."

"You've got the whole afterno—"

"Quick, Octavia."

Dylan finally piped up, smug as ever. "Trixi hit me in the face with a ball in P.E., and Octavia tried to cover for her."

He leaned back, looking proud of himself for managing basic storytelling. Gold star.

"You deserved it," Trixi shot back. Arms crossed. Full glare activated.

"And why is that?" Matthews asked evenly.

"Because he nearly took my head off!"

Dylan scoffed. "Your head wasn't going to fall off. That's a bit dramatic."

"Hun, I was one step away from crossing the red line, I nearly did Matthews" I said flatly. Matthews's brows rose.

"It's Mr. Matthews," he corrected, but his tone wasn't as sharp as it had been. More... resigned.

"Sure thing, Matty boy. Anyway, if that's it, I'll be leaving." I stood up, already halfway to the door.

"Sit down." His voice had just enough weight to freeze the air. "You're not walking out without some kind of punishment. I need to at least pretend I care about this circus."

Dylan and Trixi stared at their shoes like he'd breathe fire if they blinked.

"Fine," I sighed. "Cafeteria duty after school. We clean, you look like you handed out justice, everybody wins."

Matthews studied me for a moment, then tapped his pen twice against the desk. "That works. Now go. I have work to do."

"Perfect. Toodles, Matty boy," I said, giving him a salute as I skipped out of the office like I owned the place.