Golden Melody (Editing)

Chapter 10

Chapter 10: I Was Betrayed by Democracy

Zatariel
His POV

I should've sensed the betrayal when I walked into class, and the room immediately went dead silent.

Have you ever seen that one drama where the protagonist walks into the room and all the side characters suddenly get suspiciously quiet?

Yeah... It's just like that.

I narrowed my eyes at my classmates.
"Why do I feel like someone just sold my soul to Satan and included free shipping?"

Asha—my sister wannabe, alleged ride-or-die—smiled at me so fake it could've been minted.

"Don't be mad," she said almost carefully.

Which is universally recognized as code for: Prepare to be furious.

Then Jayson—co-conspirator, her twin, tossed me a clipboard.

"You won," he said.

"Won what?" I caught it on reflex, instantly regretting it.

"Mr. Wayne, Representative for our class"

Beat.

Longer beat.

"WHAT?!" I literally scream in horror. What on earth was that supposed to be?!

"You had everyone's votes..." Asha added cheerfully, as if she wasn't actively committing emotional homicide.
"Except your own. Which was disqualified because you wrote 'DOTA 2' as your candidate."

"I meant to vote for DOTA 2," I muttered, clicking my tongue.

I was about to argue more, but it was too late. My fate had been sealed. My soul, auctioned off to the gods of pageantry. My photo was taken by Jayson without my consent already plastered on the official nominees list. I look like a vampire-boy-band level brooding. Wet hair. Death stare.

"No," I said, shoving the clipboard back at them like it has curse.
"Absolutely not. I'm not doing a pageant. I am a man of peace.  And I look like a wet towel in that photo."

"Oh, come on, pretty boy," Asha groaned.
"You'd be perfect! You're literally the most popular guy on campus."

"Tell that to my allergies," I said.
"They've suffered enough attention."

Jayson raised an eyebrow.
"Even the seniors are rooting for you."

"Tell the seniors I root for them too—from the comfort of my gaming chair, where I belong."

Someone in the back had the nerve to say,
"But you're handsome and smart!"

"I'm emotionally unavailable and allergic to catwalk," I shot back.

That should've ended it.

But no.

This is Wayne Academy. A school built to crush introverts for unnecessary extracurriculars.

They dragged me to one (1) rehearsal. Slapped a sash on me like I was about to host a beauty vlog. I lasted twelve (12) minutes before I dramatically clutched my stomach and limped out.

"I cancel myself," I declared. "Goodbye."

Two Days Later...

Everyone was mad at me.

Freshmen cried. Seniors posted vague but emotionally-charged social media statuses. The school paper ran a headline like we were in mourning:
"Golden Boy Withdraws From Pageant. Campus in Shambles."