Ivy's entrance into first-period English was anything but graceful. The old classroom door, groaning from years of use, protested with a drawn-out creak as she pushed it open, slicing through the hushed atmosphere. The soft chatter of her classmates, who had been engaged in discussions about Shakespeare and light-hearted gossip, fell silent in an instant. Every head, it seemed, swivelled in unison, a sea of eyes flicking towards her with a mixture of curiosity and mild irritation. Mr. Dempsey, a man whose patience had clearly been tested by generations of tardy students, didn't even bother with a sigh or a perfunctory scolding. His shoulders remained slumped, his gaze fixed on the whiteboard covered in a chaotic scrawl of poetic terms. With a practiced hand, he reached for the pre-printed stack of detention slips residing on his cluttered desk. He plucked one free and extended it towards Ivy, his eyes never leaving the intricate web of annotations he had drawn.
"You're late, Miss Reyna," he remarked in a flat tone, his voice lacking any inflection that hinted at surprise. "Again."
Ivy took the slip without saying a word, her fingers grazing his for just a brief moment. The delicate paper feeling insubstantial as she crumpled it slightly and stuffed it hastily into her blazer pocket. She maneuvered through the tight aisles between desks, the sound of her shoes scraping against the linoleum being the only noise in the otherwise silent room. At last, she settled into her usual spot at the back. As she sank into the familiar plastic chair, she felt a pair of eyes watching her.
Sitting at the desk beside hers, Arleigh was a study in quiet observation. She didn't utter a word, but the sharp, intelligent flicker in her usually calm, dark blue eyes spoke volumes. Ivy knew she had noticed. The slightly rumpled appearance of her uniform and the angry red marks around her left wrist were clear signs of the rough handling she had endured. And so, an unspoken question hung heavy in the air between them: What happened?
For now, Ivy continued to keep the details of the hallway confrontation to herself. Arleigh's inquisitive gaze went unnoticed as Ivy focused on arranging her equipment on her desk.
The lesson droned on, Mr. Dempsey's voice a steady hum as he delved into the intricacies of poetic devices. However, Ivy's focus drifted elsewhere, her mind revisiting the events of just an hour prior. She couldn't shake the image of Violet, the fleeting look of hurt surprise that had flashed across her typically cheerful face when Chelsea and Tara had yanked her away. Ivy could almost picture the delicate curve of Violet's lips, the slight pout that revealed her genuine distress. It struck Ivy as oddly amusing, in a peculiar way. Violet was so consistently kind and gentle that seeing her genuinely frustrated felt like watching a kitten try to hiss—an attempt at fierceness that was ultimately charming. A soft, involuntary smile appeared on Ivy's face at the memory, a warmth blossoming in her chest.
Unable to resist the memory, Ivy leaned forward on her desk, resting her forehead against the cool surface of her forearms. This position served as a perfect barrier, concealing the growing smile and the unexpected blush that crept across her cheeks.
⋯
Meanwhile, in Violet's math class, the atmosphere wasn't nearly as pleasant. She sat stiffly at her desk, pencil tapping rhythmically against the lined paper in front of her. The presence of Tara, the only familiar face in the room, offered a slight comfort, yet it did little to dispel the frustration that still simmered from earlier.
Barely ten minutes into the lesson and the insidious whispers began. A trio of girls, strategically positioned a few rows back, conducted their conversation with the practiced stealth of seasoned gossips. They leaned in towards each other, heads tilted conspiratorially, their voices hushed but not quite muffled enough to escape Violet's keen ears.
"She's really not all that," one of them whispered, a girl with long, meticulously styled brown locks. She twirled a glittery gel pen between her fingers, the movement both bored and deliberate.
"Everyone made such a fuss over the 'new student' for absolutely no reason. I don't get what all the hype was about."
Another chimed in, her tone oozing with feigned indifference. "Honestly, she's not even that pretty. Total catfish."
Violet gripped her pencil tightly, resolute in her effort to hide the impact of their taunts. She directed her attention to the front of the classroom, where Mr. Henderson stood—a formidable figure with a bushy, salt-and-pepper moustache and a brow that seemed perpetually furrowed in distress. He frequently rubbed his temples, a clear sign that the noise level was approaching his threshold. As he worked through the complexities of a challenging algebraic concept, Violet focused on the steady rhythm of his voice, using it as a fragile lifeline to shield herself from the hurtful sting of their insults.
Tara, ever the master of duplicity, played her part with chilling precision. She leaned towards Violet every few minutes, offering seemingly innocent observations about the lesson or posing simple, harmless questions. "Did you understand how he solved for 'x' in that equation?" she'd whisper, her tone laced with a counterfeit sweetness. It was the perfect performance of a concerned classmate, yet Violet wasn't fooled. She could see the subtle smirk playing at the corner of Tara's lips, the way she let those comments linger just a fraction longer than necessary, the almost palpable satisfaction she derived from knowing that Violet was hearing every cruel word. Despite the tightening knot in her stomach and the burning sensation behind her eyes, Violet remained silent. She wouldn't give them the reaction they craved. She would not let them win.
⋯
As the piercing bell rang out, signalling the long-awaited break and freeing them from the confines of their stuffy classrooms, two whole periods had slipped by since Ivy and Violet had last seen one another. A heavy sense of longing settled in Violet's chest, a dull ache that seemed to grow with each passing minute. However, the moment her eyes landed on Ivy amidst the bustling crowd of students in the hallway, a bright smile bloomed on her face, warm and radiant like a flower basking in the sun. The earlier frustration and the sting of their forced separation faded away as she navigated through the throng, her mind set on reaching Ivy. The clamour of students chatting and the scuffing of trainers against the tiled floor receded into the distance, giving way to the steady pounding of her heart, which raced faster with each stride she took towards Ivy.
Although her small frame made it difficult to stand out in the crowd, Violet easily spotted Ivy thanks to her wild purple hair and impressive height, which shone like a beacon. Ivy was an eye-catching presence, her vivid hair a chaotic explosion of colour that swayed with each step, attracting the unwanted attention of onlookers. Violet felt a surge of relief and joy as she approached, her determination unwavering despite the sea of bodies that threatened to swallow her whole.
At last, she reached out and gave Ivy's backpack a gentle tug to get her attention. The fabric felt familiar and comforting beneath her fingers. Ivy turned around, her initial look of irritated surprise transforming into pure delight as she recognized Violet, her face brightening instantly.
"I'm really sorry about earlier," Violet said, her brow slightly knitted in genuine regret. "I didn't want to leave, but Tara and Chelsea just—"
Ivy, however, cut her off with a small, reassuring smile that reached her eyes, her head tilted slightly in a gentle shake. "Don't worry about it," she said, her voice soft, instantly putting Violet at ease.
Relief washed over Violet's features, smoothing away the last vestiges of guilt. She impulsively reached out and tugged lightly on the sleeve of Ivy's worn blazer, a silent invitation. "Come on, let's go outside. I need some fresh air," she confessed, the words laced with a subtle plea.
Together, they drifted towards the year eleven courtyard, a small haven tucked away from the main bustle of the school. After a short search, they discovered a peaceful nook beneath the wide-reaching limbs of a venerable oak tree, the atmosphere rich with the aroma of moist soil and fresh foliage. Perching on the chilly stone bench, they launched into conversation. Before long, the unavoidable subject of classes came up, and Violet's eyebrows shot up in astonishment as Ivy nonchalantly shared a surprising revelation.
"You're in W1 and W2 for everything?" she asked, her head tilting to the side in disbelief, her eyes searching Ivy's face for any sign of jest.
Ivy merely smirked at the obvious astonishment in Violet's tone, a playful glint in her eyes. "What, that hard to believe?" she teased, enjoying Violet's reaction.
"Well… I mean, I knew you were smart, obviously," Violet stammered, her cheeks flushing slightly. "But… I didn't think you were that smart," she admitted, her voice laced with genuine surprise.
Ivy let out a mock gasp, feigning offense as she dramatically placed a hand over her chest. "Violet, you wound me," she declared, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. "After all this time together, you doubt my academic prowess?"
Violet rolled her eyes dramatically, but a smile crept onto her lips, betraying her amusement. "Oh, shut up, you show-off!" she retorted, playfully nudging Ivy's side. After a brief moment of feigned sulking, she pouted. "Go ahead and laugh! I'm the one stuck in C2 and C3 for most of my classes."
Ivy's smirk widened, and a soft laugh escaped her lips. "Seriously? Well, I guess I'm not that surprised." She shrugged, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "I kind of figured you'd be getting some extra support, you know... considering you haven't been to school for a few years?"
Violet's feigned outrage ignited as she reached out and playfully hit Ivy's arm, puffing up in mock annoyance. "Hey! Rude! It's my first day, give me a break! Besides," she leaned in closer, her tone dropping to a secretive murmur, "it's not exactly easy trying to catch up on algebra when you've been busy, you know, trying to survive."
Ivy's grin faded a bit as she let out a gentle sigh, affectionately tousling Violet's fluffy hair, deliberately making it more chaotic. "I get it, I really do... you've had a rough time, but this is your moment to unwind and enjoy yourself. Forget about who's smarter—just soak in the fun while you can."
Violet's cheeks blossomed with a delicate blush, the rosy hue creeping higher as Ivy's words, laced with both comfort and affectionate teasing, washed over her. It was a familiar sensation, this comforting yet mildly exasperating attention from Ivy. A small, involuntary chuckle escaped her lips, a quiet sound that barely disturbed the air. She couldn't quite meet Ivy's gaze, instead diverting her eyes, a shy smile playing at the corner of her mouth. "Thank you," she mumbled.
Ivy, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief, leaned closer, feigning deafness with exaggerated concern. "Did I hear you right, Vi? Hm...My ears must be playing tricks on me." This playful jab drew a flustered huff from Violet, a cute little puff of annoyance that only made her cheeks blush an even deeper shade of pink.
⋯
For a while, they simply talked, their laughter mingling with the rustling leaves. The usual heaviness that seemed to cling to Ivy like a shadow appeared to dissipate in Violet's presence, replaced by something lighter, brighter. But as the jarring clang of the bell echoed across the courtyard, signalling the abrupt end of their brief respite, that weight came crashing down once more, a tangible shift in Ivy's demeanour that Violet couldn't help but notice.
Navigating the corridor felt like running a treacherous gauntlet. Soft whispers, akin to venomous serpents weaving through the throng, trailed behind her, each hiss a reminder of the toxic gossip that had taken root. Ivy felt the intense gaze of her classmates bearing down on her, a heavy pressure that tightened around her chest like a vice. What was once harmless school gossip had transformed into something more sinister, driven by fear and ignorance, morphing into a narrative that painted her as a monster rather than a victim.
"I heard she hospitalized two of them," a voice spat, dripping with exaggerated dread, as if the mere mention of her name could summon the horrors they imagined.
"She's completely lost it since becoming a Semi-Immortal," another added, laced with self-righteous disdain.
"She's always been violent, though. She just has an excuse now," a third voice interjected, a disturbing mix of ignorance and malice, as if they relished the idea of her being a villain in their twisted tale.
Ivy's jaw tightened, muscles protesting under the strain of her clenched teeth. Her hands became rigid fists, nails digging into her palms, grounding her in the chaos that surrounded her. It was expected, really. She understood that rumours would inevitably flourish, distorting the truth beyond recognition. Yet, awareness did little to ease the sting, the searing shame that twisted in her gut like a coiled serpent. Each passing student seemed to subtly veer away, creating an invisible buffer zone as if she were a carrier of some contagious disease, a pariah to be avoided at all costs.
Then, a voice, low and laced with venom, cut through the murmuring crowd, audible just enough for it to pierce Ivy's fragile composure: "She's a monster."
Ivy stopped abruptly, her shoes squeaking on the polished floor as she reached the entrance to the Geography corridor. The phrase hung in the air like a thick fog. Violet, taken aback, paused beside her, her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. "Ivy?"
Ivy's gaze fell to the floor, the dark linoleum suddenly captivating her attention. Disgust, simmering anger, and bone-deep fatigue coiled tightly in her chest, threatening to explode. The weight of it all felt like a leaden anchor, pulling her down, suffocating her. "I should go," she murmured, the words barely escaping her lips in a near-silent breath.
Violet paused, her eyes scanning Ivy's expression as she sought to understand the storm of emotions brewing just below the surface. "Um... okay," she finally replied, uncertainty lingering in her tone. Then, with a gentle, tentative motion, she reached out and lightly tugged on the sleeve of Ivy's blazer. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, filled with a cautious tenderness. "Can we eat lunch together?"
For a long, agonizing second, Ivy didn't respond, trapped in the vortex of her own emotions. The question hung in the air between them, like a lifebuoy tossed into turbulent waters. Then, after a beat that felt like an eternity, she stammered a quiet, almost imperceptible, "Yeah."
Violet's expression brightened with a heartfelt smile, her eyes sparkling with relief. She released her grip on Ivy's sleeve, offering a gentle nod and a wave of reassurance as she observed Ivy turn and walk away on her own.