𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐅𝐔𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒 | SPINOFF

CHAPTER TWO

MARCELLA
CRIST

First day back at Crist's High School. The air was thick, almost suffocating, as Stella made her way to the stage—her posture, poised and controlled, a queen among commoners, but trapped in the chains of social standards.

She stood in front of the students, her eyes scanning the crowd like a predator surveying its prey, lips curling into a smile as if she were about to devour us all. Avery, beside me, fidgeted with her skirt, her fingers trembling like a cornered animal. The tension in her was palpable. She was unraveling, one thread at a time, while Lily, as usual, was engrossed in her book, disconnected from the world, lost in a realm where nothing could touch her.

And me? My eyes were hunting for Damon Lars, scanning the room, restless, haunted. I couldn't help it. The need to see him, to know where he was, gnawed at me like something dark clawing at my insides.

"And I hope this year goes greatly," Stella's voice cut through my thoughts, dripping with sarcasm. "But of course, with me in your school, it should be an honor to even come here. XOXO!" She flashed a wicked grin, one that sent shivers down the spines of those too weak to handle her, and waved. "Thanks, Mr. Crist, for designing hoodies and prettier styles for the girls, appreciate it."

Her words hung in the air, and I couldn't help but laugh—a sharp, hollow sound that echoed through the auditorium. "She's crazy, I love it," Lily murmured, finally lifting her eyes from the book. Her voice was calm, but there was a darkness behind her words. It always lurked just beneath the surface with her.

Before Stella could sit down, Grayson Meadows stormed over, his hand clamping down on her elbow with a force that made my stomach turn. "You stole my day," he hissed, the anger in his voice barely restrained. "I was the one who was supposed to do the speech, not you."

Stella didn't flinch. Instead, she smiled—cold, calculated, and without a shred of fear. Then, slowly, deliberately, she raised her middle finger and held it inches from his face. "Mine now. Get over it," she said, her voice as sharp as broken glass. "I'm getting much smarter this year. I'll rise up over your level, Meadows." There was venom in every word, and I could see Grayson seething, his eyes narrowing into slits.

"Sure, princess," he said, his voice low, but his smirk was thinly veiled rage. "I'll let you try."

I held back a laugh, but it bubbled in my throat, threatening to spill over. Things always spiraled when we were together—like standing too close to a fire, knowing you'd get burned but unable to pull away. And then there was English. My God, English. A whole year sitting in the same class as Damon Lars. The thought of it made my skin crawl in the most thrilling, terrifying way. He was in the third section, the older, smarter kids. I barely saw him, except in fleeting moments—at breaks, in the library, or during conferences. He was like a shadow, always just out of reach, and yet his presence lingered, heavy and consuming.

I felt a wave of guilt wash over me as I realized I hadn't heard a single word of my father's speech. How could I, when my focus was splintered between Grayson and Stella's battle and the overwhelming weight of Damon's absence?

The bell rang, and we stood as one—Avery, Lily, Stella, and I. As we moved toward the exit, the air felt even heavier, like we were about to cross into a battlefield. "You guys have to get your pass for English PA from your Dad," Lily reminded us, her voice soft but firm. "Stella and I will wait for you in the classroom. It's on the second floor—"

"We know, Lily." My voice sounded strained, like it was coming from someone else. "But can you not sit next to my brother and his friends this time? How about we sit in the front?" My plea hung in the air. I knew Stella and Lily always sat in front of Jaxon, Damon, Grayson, and Alessio. It was a ritual, a sick game that they never tired of.

I never understood it. Lily hated them—at least, that's what she claimed. But there was something there, something twisted in the way they all grew up together, tangled in each other's lives like vines choking a tree. It was inevitable.

Stella pouted, her lips curving into a devilish smile. "Please, just this first class. It's so funny around them, especially when your brother makes Lily all flushed."

"My brother won't even let me sit beside him," I muttered.

"Nah, I talked to him about it. He didn't care. He actually wants to protect you and make sure no one talks to you." Stella's words settled like a stone in my gut. Great. Just what I needed—to be even further away from making new friends.

Avery had been quiet the whole time, her silence louder than any words she could've spoken. "Anyways, let's go get that pass," she mumbled, her voice hollow.

We split off, Avery and I trudging up the stairs toward my father's office. The halls felt darker, colder, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead like something out of a nightmare. Avery was wrapped in her winter uniform—a thick red sweater with our school's logo, paired with a skirt and tights, even though it was still warm. I knew why. It was her father. That bastard.

We didn't talk about it, though. We never did. The silence between us was heavy, filled with all the things we were too afraid to say. I had told my Dad a hundred times that Avery needed help, but he said he needed proof to even talk to her father. Proof. As if the bruises weren't enough.

"Hey, Papa, we need the passes and a letter from you to enter the class," I said, stepping into his office. His smile was warm, but I felt none of its warmth. He handed over the papers and cards, and I grabbed them quickly, eager to get out.

"Marcella, Avery," he began, his voice stern but kind. "Try to socialize and make friends in the upgraded level. If any older kids try to make fun of you or tease you, your brother or I will handle it."

I sighed, the weight of his words pressing down on me. "Jaxon is already forcing us to sit in his area of the class so everyone gets scared."

"Not me," Avery laughed, but it was empty. "I'm sitting in the front for sure."

I narrowed my eyes at her. "We've been seat buddies for years. I'm not letting you sit away from me."

Before she could respond, my father cut in. "Sweetheart, Marcella is right. You can't sit alone in that class. It's full of the worst kids—arrogant, dangerous. It's not for nice girls like you. I know you're not on the best terms with the boys, but Jaxon won't let anyone touch you. You'll have to sit beside them."

Avery crossed her arms, nodding reluctantly, but I knew she wouldn't comply. She never did.

Minutes later, we were standing outside the classroom door—the threshold between heaven and hell. My heart raced in my chest, pounding like a drum.

New kids. My brother. Damon. His friends. The new teacher. Everything felt like it was closing in, and I was terrified.