𝑾𝒆 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒓𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒔,
thrown together by 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 or some 𝘵𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘥 sense of irony, in a private all-girls school where rules and control were 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 to keep everything in line.
But she was the chaos I couldn't escape. Co...
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The dining hall was alive with its usual symphony of chaos. The scrape of chairs against polished wood, the low hum of chatter from the clusters of students, and the occasional burst of laughter or exaggerated sigh filled the air. Sunlight spilled through the massive windows, catching on silver cutlery and the polished surfaces of the long tables. I sat with Alice Caldwell, Lauren Whitmore, and Madison Grey near the far corner, away from the center of attention but not far enough to be forgotten.
Alice looked like she'd rather be anywhere else. She kept adjusting her disheveled collar, eyes darting toward the entrance every time someone walked in. Lauren, oblivious as ever, was glued to her phone, scrolling through something undoubtedly mundane, while Madison stirred her coffee like it held the answers to life's greatest mysteries.
"Alice," I finally said, breaking the strained silence. "If you fidget any more, your chair's going to give up and collapse."
She glared at me, her voice a sharp whisper. "You wouldn't get it."
"Oh, but I'd love to." I leaned in slightly, resting my chin on my palm. "You're practically vibrating. What's got you so worked up? Did Scarlett give you another pep talk about your uniform?"
Her jaw tightened, and she shot me a look that could cut glass. Before she could retort, the unmistakable rhythm of heels clicking against the polished floor stole our attention.
Scarlett Delacroix had arrived.
But how the fuck does she arrive so late? I left the dorm after her?
The room seemed to shift in response to her presence, like the air itself bent to accommodate her. She walked with that practiced grace, the kind that screamed wealth, power, and the absolute knowledge that the world owed her something. Amelia was a step behind, as always, her loyal shadow. Scarlett's gaze swept over the room like a queen surveying her subjects, landing first on Alice, then me.
The corners of her lips twitched, not quite a smirk but enough to let me know she'd noticed the way Alice practically froze in her seat.
Scarlett veered toward our table, and with every step, the tension grew heavier, like the room itself was holding its breath. Her hand came to rest lightly on Alice's shoulder as she stopped beside us.
"Still struggling to figure out how to dress yourself, Caldwell?" Scarlett's voice was sweet, saccharine in the way only she could manage. Her fingers flexed slightly, her thumb brushing against the fabric of Alice's blazer, a gesture so small it could have been mistaken for casual—if you didn't know Scarlett.
Alice flinched under the touch but stayed silent, her jaw tightening. Her shoulders were taut, the tension radiating off her in waves.
Scarlett let go, her hand drifting away like a ghost. "No surprise there," she added, her tone light but laced with condescension.
