Rhea ended up in the female washroom. The flickering fluorescent light buzzed faintly overhead, casting harsh reflections on the polished tiles. Rhea had to squint her eyes slightly as she approached the sink, since her eyes were sensitive to extreme bright light.
With trembling hands, she turned the tap and splashed cold water onto her face, hoping to rinse away the heat of adrenaline still pulsing in her veins. The last time she got into a fight with someone was when she was still in juvenile prison, and due to her untamed violence, they isolated her in a completely white-looking prison. It took her a few days before she realized those people had sent her to a mental hospital for treatment.
Those freaking bastards.
Her gaze drifted downward, and she scrubbed off the dried blood from her hands and knuckles. She watched as the crimson liquid swirled down the drain like a secret being washed away. But it wasn't that simple. She barely even recognized her own self each time she looked into the mirror. She didn't even know what she was anymore, what she was like before, except for the fact that things had been done to her that made her question if she could even call herself human at this point.
A weary sigh slipped past her lips as the memory in Nesta's classroom replayed in brutal clarity, and the fact that she had been caught by no one other than headmistress Winnie.
Of all the people to witness the fight, it had to be the mistress of the academy. If it had been any other teacher, she might've talked her way out of it.
But certainly not with Mrs Winnie. The head of the academy. The look on that woman's face was enough for her to know that there would be consequences for her actions, and that much was certain. She was super sure they would involve her stepfather regarding her actions.
"Big Daddy's not going to be happy about this," she muttered under her breath, her voice barely audible over the rush of water.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was meant to play the victim for a week, bide her time and wait for the perfect moment to strike.
Her stepfather had made it clear that there would be no retaliation from her side until she was struck three times. Then, and only then, could she fight back. One can say her stepfather was very calculating in matters like this. Strategic. But he was also very sharp enough to see through her. He'd know she'd baited Nesta and provoked her into throwing the punch first, just so she can justify her retaliation.
He would know.
And that part made her stomach twist. She hadn't broken the rules, but she had bent the plan to suit her rage. Right now, the fallout would be hers alone to face.
"I have to come up with some—"
"Rhea Ashbourne!"
Without warning, the bathroom door slammed open with theatrical force, the sound echoing off the tiles like a starting pistol. The sound made Rhea flinch mid-sentence, and her eyes landed on the intruder who strutted through the main doorway as if she were making a grand entrance onto a stage rather than a bathroom floor.
It was Callista.
She had discarded the Novarion Academy jacket for a fur-trimmed coat too extravagant for academy halls. She stood tall and gorgeous as always, with one manicured eyebrow arched high.
Her current expression was pure exasperation wrapped in glittering drama, and even though Rhea wanted to ask why she was wearing a fur coat in the academy premises since the academy wears actually contributed to the points earned here, she chose to remain quiet.
"Tell me you did not just throw hands with Nesta and her girls!" She demanded, stalking toward Rhea with a flair. When she was in front of her, she clutched Rhea's arms as if she were bracing herself for a scandal too delicious to believe.
Her perfume hit Rhea like a floral slap, and Rhea tried not to choke from it.
Callista's eyes narrowed with obvious scrutiny as she scanned Rhea's face, and for one charged moment, Rhea truly thought she was about to get smacked in the face by her roommate. But then, like a switch had been flipped, Callista's face lit up like a chandelier.
"My God, you did, didn't you? Oh my stars, you absolute legend!" she squealed, practically vibrating with glee. "Everyone is talking about it– everyone, darling. You know, I certainly underestimated you. You are officially an icon at this point. Both the art and history department? Gasping. The news must have gotten to the tech department as well."
She leaned in, making Rhea flinch back. "The fact that you cooked Nesta is nothing short of a blessing to hundreds of students here. I wish I was there to see it witness it with my own two eyes. Wait, hold on!"
Before Rhea could even comprehend everything Callista spewed, her roommate had whipped out her phone with the speed of a gunslinger. She flipped her braided hair and posed beside Rhea like they were on the cover of a tabloid.
"Smile! Or smirk, whichever. You just earned main character status and I need the receipts. Ready? One, two… yessssss."
Rhea blinked when the picture was suddenly taken, still confused. The fact that lots of students were talking about it certainly won't save her from getting into trouble. Noticing Rhea's lack of excitement concerning everything she just spilled, she placed a manicured hand on Rhea's shoulder.
"Is it about Mrs Winnie? I heard she got a front-row seat to the chaos," she asked, her voice lilting with a practiced mix of concern and gossip.
Rhea simply shrugged but said nothing. She didn't care about Mrs Winnie. What she cared about was her stepfather discovering she'd botched his carefully laid-out plan on her second day of school. She could already imagine the amount of nagging and I-told-you-so she'll get from Steven when he learns about this.
Callista was still waiting for an audible explanation when Rhea glanced toward the designer bag slung over her shoulder.
"Do you have mascara and lip gloss in there?"
Callista blinked at her unexpected question, caught off guard for only a second, but then her eyes lit up. "Do I have–? Babygirl, I am the makeup aisle." She swung the bag around with a flourish, unzipping it like she was about to reveal a bountiful treasure.
"I don't carry the basics, of course, I carry the entire options," she continued, digging into her bag with purpose. "Matte, gloss, shimmer, waterproof, volumizing, curling— pick your poison."
Rhea stared at the makeup options in her bag, her crimson eyes filled with wonders. But if her roommate's bag was filled with makeup, then where does she keep her books?
She accepted the mascara Callista handed her and faced the mirror. She could still see the evident surprise in her roommate's face when she requested for the mascara and lip gloss. "What are they supposed to do to get you out of trouble with Mrs Winnie?"
"It doesn't," Rhea replied as she touched up her lashes, then she paused. "But, if I'm about to get expelled, I might as well look iconic doing it, right?"
"You are not going to get expelled," Callista assured her. "Considering the fact you're an Ashbourne, they'd think twice before kicking you out. But… I support the glam! Elira is fast asleep so I rushed here to come check on you. Luckily, you've got no bruises. I'll take the crutches to her and join you afterwards in the Mistress's office. One thing for sure, if you're gonna get kicked out, so will Nesta and her group of skunks."
She gave Rhea a supportive pat on her shoulder before zipping up her bag and heading out of the bathroom.
Rhea looked back at the mirror and carefully applied the lipgloss, smoothing it over with a concentrated swipe. The soft sheen caught the light, but her expression remained unperturbed. If she remembered correctly, the Mistress's office was somewhere within the tech department. She'd need the map again, since someone decided to build the school like a fuckin' twisted labyrinth, and she wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
—--
When she arrived at the adjoining lobby connected to the Mistress's office, she had been told to wait. Time skipped by slowly before a sharp-heeled woman, who appeared to be one of the staff, swept in and murmured that the Mistress was ready to see her. It made Rhea wonder if her victims had woken up ready.
Standing up from her seat, she approached the sleek black door marked with the subtle emblem, one she remembered seeing when she showed up for her registration.
Her brows furrowed as she stepped inside the office, the door clicking shut behind her. The room smelled faintly of leather and something else, maybe? But even though the mistress was absent in her own office, it appeared she had an intruder wandering around in it.
"Fuckin' hell…"
The words escaped her in a breathy mutter before she could help it. A young man, taller than what she remembered him being, stood with an infuriating ease while leaning against the Mistress's desk. His hands were casually buried in his pocket, and he emitted the same air of arrogance that made one know he runs this place, and from the looks of it, he'd been waiting for her as well. Rhea wasn't used to being tracked down like this, at least not in the way he did it.
But why did the staff member lie to her about the Mistress being around?
Kael had taken a hand out of his pocket and was going through a red file she hadn't realized was beside him on the desk. She didn't need to look deeper into it in order to know he was digging into her medical file for the academy. Alarmed, she immediately crossed the distance between them and snatched her file from his grip.
"Why are you going through my medical reports?" she demanded, resisting the urge to smack him hard in the face for being this intrusive. She couldn't really afford to add more problems for herself.
"Your medical reports are fake," he murmured with a smile playing on his lips, one disarming enough to make most girls and even womens heart melt. But that couldn't be said for Rhea, who wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile from his face. His conclusion to her file only raised alarm bells in her head, but she maintained her composure through it all.
"You're spitting nonsense."
"I always knew there was something fishy about you." He pushed his weight off the desk with a kind of grace that made her pulse tick faster– all fluid, confident and dangerous. She stepped back as he closed the distance between them.
"You do realize that's a serious offense here, don't you?" he said, his voice low, almost amused. "Another test will be run on you. But I imagine you already expected that since you decided to trick the academy with that fake report? Isn't that to say you have committed two crimes in one day?"
"Stop," Rhea snapped, her voice tight with warning, but he seemed to revel in her displeasure.
"No need to get all defensive," he chuckled, the sound low and maddeningly calm. He then stopped in his tracks, his expression cooling into something more deliberate. "I'm not here to snitch. I'm here to help you get out of this situation you're in. But only on one simple condition."