HIGHER | klaus mikaelson

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

CHAPTER THREE.
the friends

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"AMARIS ZEPHANIAH!"

Anaïs's voice echoed up the spiral staircase of the large colonial home. She stood at the bottom, arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for her daughter. They were already running late, and the new house was far enough from town that they didn't have time to spare.

Amaris appeared at the top of the stairs, her face set in a defiant scowl. Her honey-blonde hair, pulled into a neat pineapple, bounced slightly as she descended with a deliberate slowness. She didn't care that she was holding everyone up—it was her world, and they were just living in it.

"I'm right here. Now would you stop calling my name?"

"It's about damn time. You didn't need to put on a face full of makeup. And your skirt is too short," Anaïs commented, grabbing her work bag from the floor.

Amaris sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Please. It's called style, and I don't need your fashion advice," she retorted.

Anaïs's eyes narrowed, her frustration barely contained. "You're going to school, not a fashion show. And that attitude of yours needs adjusting."

Bonnie, standing awkwardly near the door, couldn't help but comment on her cousin's appearance. "You know I go to public school, right? You're gonna get dress coded." Aside from the fact that everyone in the family thought she was arrogant because of her magic, they also thought she had a big head because of her status. From the private schooling to the designer items, Amaris embodied the image of someone who thought she was better than everyone else—and she made sure everyone knew it.

"Who asked you?" Amaris snapped at Bonnie, making it clear she didn't appreciate any interruptions.

"Amaris!"

The witch rolled her eyes at her mother, grabbing her bag from the foyer closet. Amaris dug through it, her irritation growing with each passing second. When she didn't find her car keys, her frustration boiled over. She shot a glare at her mother, her tone sharp.

"Where are my keys?"

Anaïs raised an eyebrow. "You're not driving today. You're going with Bonnie."

Amaris froze, disbelief flashing across her face. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," Anaïs replied, crossing her arms. "You'll stay with Bonnie all day. Go where she goes, do what she does. I don't care if she wants to max out your black card—let her max it out. But you're not running off on your own. Got it?"

Amaris clenched her jaw, her hands balling into fists. "This is ridiculous. I don't need a babysitter."

"Maybe not, but you're new in town," Anaïs said. "Until I say otherwise, you'll stick with Bonnie."

Bonnie, sensing the growing tension, quickly moved toward the door, eager to avoid further confrontation. "Let's just go before we're even later."

Amaris shot one last venomous look at her mother before storming out the door after Bonnie, muttering under her breath. She hated not getting her way, but there was no arguing with Anaïs when she made up her mind. She threw her bag into the backseat and slid into her seat, fuming in silence.

As Bonnie started the car and pulled out of the driveway, the silence between the two cousins was uncomfortable. Amaris stared out the window, while Bonnie focused on the road, unsure of what to say.