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In a hushed tone, Tresa leaned in and uttered, "It's not over until I declare it over." Her proximity to me, perhaps an attempt to intimidate, only left me more bewildered than ever. With her proclamation still lingering in the air, she swiftly departed, as if she had just achieved a twisted victory. As a final act of spite, she rubbed the remnants of pie she clutched onto my already stained shirt, further tainting the fabric. I stood there, silently enduring the torment, refusing to sink to her level.
Once satisfied with her handiwork, Tresa sauntered away, her minions trailing obediently in her wake. In this chapter of my life, I must introduce the two female accomplices Tresa now held dear, Johanna and Rhonda, whom she proudly referred to as her closest confidantes. The twins, forever entwined by their loyalty to Tresa, now played a pivotal role in perpetuating her reign of power.
They were the self-proclaimed guardians of Rosedale Academy's gossip vine, a notorious Twitter account aptly named Gossip Twitter Fingers. Rhonda and Johanna, with their ever-eager eyes, were always on the prowl for tantalizing tidbits to share with the world. But if Tresa truly considered me a friend, she should have the decency to ask them to delete that damning video of me and Dax locking lips. Although, given the video has already been broadcasted to the entire school, the odds are stacked against us.
To put it simply, I harbored an intense dislike for them before this incident, and this latest stunt only solidified my contempt. All I desired was to trudge through my monotonous, solitary days at school without the added drama.
Just as they sauntered by, Rhonda leading the way with Tresa meekly following, they met my bewildered gaze head-on.
Rhonda snatched the pie out of Tresa's clutches, the one she had been vigorously smearing onto my pristine shirt, and slyly whispered, "exquisite pie," as she handed me a delicate tissue, urging me to remove the unsightly stain from my uniform.
Without further ado, they resumed their march towards the ever-obliging Tresa.
In Johanna's wake, she made a brief, almost dismissive comment, "lovely nails," before joining Tresa and Rhonda. The trio continued their trek towards the waiting car, a chauffeur presumably patiently seated behind the wheel.
Left in their wake, all I could do was gaze in dismay as their vehicle disappeared before my eyes. It was at that precise moment that I acknowledged the crumbling state of my friendship with Tresa. With a mix of hurt and anger, I hastily discarded the friendship bracelet from my left wrist, its presence now an unwelcome reminder, burying it deep within the folds of my skirt.
Chapter Nine
Dax
The rumble of my black SUV, a loyal beast tamed by my driver's expert touch, subsided to a purr as we reached our destination. Through the limo-tinted windows, Rosedale Academy materialized – a castle of brick and ivy, preening under the morning sun. The car nudged into its designated spot, a velvet-lined oasis in the student parking chaos.
Being the eye of the storm had always been my kryptonite, a guilty pleasure I never outgrew. As students parted like the Red Sea, I inhaled the sweet scent of admiration, a heady perfume that never failed to intoxicate. The homecoming banner, a garish monstrosity celebrating Rosedale's prodigal sons and daughters, felt like a personal ode.
Headphones perched like a misplaced crown atop my messy dark hair, I juggled a lively text thread with Greg, my best friend and co-conspirator in all things mischief. He'd already infiltrated the student body, a mole reporting on the latest gossip and social tremors.
My driver, a stoic shadow in a crisp uniform, materialized beside the car.
With a flourish worthy of a magician, he swung open the door, unleashing a wave of sunlight that felt like a personal spotlight.
Stepping out, I savored the warmth on my skin, the symphony of whispers and hushed greetings playing my entrance theme. Fingers danced through my raven mane, coaxing a casual wave into existence. Unstudied, effortless, I was the maestro of effortless cool, the king of this concrete jungle.
Rosedale Academy, my kingdom, awaited. And I, its unpredictable emperor, had returned. The term stretched before me, a blank canvas begging for my masterpiece. Time to paint it with laughter, mischief, and maybe, just maybe, a touch of chaos. This was my playground, my stage, and I was ready for the encore.
Dax: I'll meet you in ten minutes. (I typed)
Greg: is that your SUV parked over there? *eyeball emojis*
Dax: yes, it is. I'm stepping out now.
I slipped my phone into my back pocket and stepped out of the SUV. In perfect synchrony, the driver handed me my backpack, which I promptly slung over my shoulder, running my hand through my hair. Just then, Greg emerged before me, and we greeted each other with our customary brotherly handshake.
As a helpful friend, Greg kindly offered to carry my bag. The people around here hold me in great respect and admiration, willing to go to any lengths for me.
Returning to school after a blissful two-week midterm break felt like stepping back into a void. It was supposed to be a much-needed escape from the pressures of academia, yet I couldn't shake the restlessness that plagued me in Skye's absence.
Despite having a multitude of other activities to occupy my time, thoughts of her consumed me. A vacation could have easily served as a distraction, but I purposely chose not to indulge in one. Instead, I meticulously crafted a plan - one that would grasp Skye's attention in a positive light, not a negative one. Unfortunately, my reputation as the notorious bad boy and my mischievous tendencies make it a challenge for me to act kind or considerate. When was the last time I genuinely did something nice for someone? The memory eludes me, and it only solidifies the daunting task that lies ahead - winning Skye's heart. But fear not, for I am not embarking on this journey without a well-thought-out strategy. I have concocted a plan that is tailor-made for Skye, focusing solely on her and no one else - not even you.
"Do we have class this morning?" I asked Greg, not bothering to check our schedule. Greg was my closest friend, someone I had known for years, and someone I could always rely on. I had other friends, of course, but there was something about Greg that drew me to him. We had practically grown up together, known each other since we were just kids. You see, his mother worked for my father in his company, so we were practically family.
Despite all this, Greg was different. He was fiercely loyal and could keep a secret like no one else. I trusted him implicitly.
It's not that I didn't have other friends; I did. But when it came to important matters, I knew I could always count on Greg, just as he could count on me.
It's worth noting that I didn't blindly pledge loyalty to just anyone; if the situation called for it, I would turn against someone. That's just the type of person I am.
"Not until 9:30 am!" Greg replied.
