"A society in which men and women are governed by belief in an enduring moral order, by a strong sense of right and wrong, by personal convictions of justice and honour, will be a good society." - Russell Kirk
It wasn't the sun's rays that woke Juliet, though she would have much prefered that. She supposed that it wasn't a very grand feeling to be woken up before she was ready, but considering she had a big day ahead of her, she figured it all the better.
Though, as to why Dana had decided to be extra today and callously rip her favorite blanket off her and leave her freezing in nothing but pajamas, she was too cranky to understand.
"Rise and shine Jules, come on, let's get this day going!"
Ugh, cheeriness at seven o'clock. Definitely not her kind of thing to wake up to.
"Come on, get up, we're gonna miss out on the gathering in the lounge—" and Dana opened the blinds to full effect, the added light blinded the still sleepy Juliet, so she ducked her head back into her soft, comforting pillow.
"Jus' phive moh minuhhs."
Watson heard the shuffling of feet toward her closet, the slight twang as clothes were taken from hangars and pulled from drawers, then a chiding, "Jules, come on, we're gonna be late if you keep this up."
Finally, she turned from the blissful reaches of slumber, peeking with a bleary, half-opened gaze to her friend, standing over her with an entire outfit in her arms.
"Late for what—?"
"For the gathering, duh," Dana spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world, "you got my text about it last night, didn't you?"
Juliet slowly looked over to her desk, where her phone sat, having been charging all night and oblivious to her when she'd slept. Driven by a half-charged state of need, Watson reached out an arm and hoped by some miracle, some force of nature would levitate her phone into her hand and allow her to stay on the soft mattress.
The Divine must hate her today, for they didn't even try to help her in her plight.
Dana sighed and set the clothes down at the end of the bed, "Look, just get up and get dressed. You know where the lounge is, I'll meet you there."
Footsteps made their way to the door, then came a muttering, 'Don't make me wake you up again,' as the door closed, leaving her to slowly blink out the grime from her eyes.
So with a groan, Juliet decided it to be futile, and forced herself out of bed. She switched from night garments to the outfit Dana had set up for her: a pair of jeans topped with a light grey shirt and her leather jacket. Slipping on her pair of worn tennis shoes, the reporter gave herself a once-over with the small framed mirror next to her door before she walked out into the hall.
A bustle came to and from the bathroom, as the other dorm members took their turns in the showers. A small group of unfamiliar faces had formed just outside the shower door awaiting their turns. As she walked closer, Juliet realized they were girls from the first floor, having trekked up the stairs and formed a line along the wall next to the bathroom door. She edged closer, curiosity piqued, and asked the stranger closest to her, a fair-skinned brunette with short, very curly, chocolate-brown hair—
"Hey, what's goin' on here?"
Looking up from her phone, the girl muttered, "Showers are closed off on the first floor, one of the pipes got damaged. The janitor's working on it, while the rest of us have to go up here," and she gestured to the four others with her, all tiredly occupying themselves with their smartphones, a couple tapping toes with impatience, "…so, uh, yeah. Kinda sucks."
Juliet nodded, "Ah, well, good luck to you then, uhm..."
"Olivia, I'm Olivia," the girl said, and with a gentle wave of the hand did she bid Juliet a farewell. Watson reciprocated, and left her be, not noticing the kind brunette being beckoned by her peers, suddenly spurred by whatever they'd found on their phones.
Juliet looked from the commotion to the rooms on the opposite side of the hall, particularly to Room 222, now with caution tape crisscrossed upon its door. With a forlorn sigh she looked away, and marched her way to the stairs, trying not to let the worry drown her again.
She's fine, just focus on getting to the lounge. It'll be worth it, soon.
The bronze-brunette made her way down the two flights of steps, hearing some commotion as she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs. It came from her right, and walking towards the noise brought her to a door with a plaque next to it, the inscription TV LOUNGE in perfect white letters spelled out her destination.
Watson made her way into the lounge, immediately spotting Dana and the rest of her friends chilling at a large round table in the middle of the room. Off to the side, near the couple of vending machines and some spare tables with chairs, were Chase's minions, Taylor Christensen and Courtney Wagner. They paid Juliet no mind as she made her way over to her group, taking a seat in between Brooke and an animated Stella, going on about some story from childhood before abruptly noticing her.
"Oh shit, the gang's all here," Stella smiled, giving the bronze-brunette a mighty clap upon the shoulder, jostling her completely awake with a yelp, "Mornin' Juliet!"
"Christ, man, gimme a warning next time—" Watson sputtered indignantly as the others giggled at her, with a huff she reciprocated, "good morning to you too."
Alyssa greeted her with a good morning as well, idly chewing on a protein bar clasped in her hand as Brooke hummed to Juliet's left, eyes not straying from the text conversation in her lap.
"Figured we'd do something together, all of us," explained Dana, and her bright pink top with a faded pair of jeans glowed from the rays of light that shone from a window on one end of the room, this being the only source of light and by extension making Dana the brightest of the group, "After all, today's the big day."
"You make it sound like I'm gonna win the jackpot or something."
"With whatever the Prescotts are gonna give you after it all goes down, I'm sure it'll be something massive though."
A shrug, Juliet wasn't sure how far this thing would actually go, but she hoped, oh, she hoped—
"Y'know, that reminds me, I had a relative who once won the lottery," Stella said as she pulled her backpack off the floor, fishing out her water bottle for a swig, "my uncle on my dad's side, Wilhelm, he'd gotten lucky and won some fifteen thousand dollars from a spare lottery ticket."
A whistle from Dana, a huff of surprise from Juliet.
"Really?" asked Alyssa.
"Yeah. It was pretty cool, but then the crisis hit right after, and that ticket of his meant nothing once the lottery center was burned to the ground. The place was one of many to get looted and torched once the Riots kicked off."
"Damn, that sucks," Dana whispered, the others nodded their heads in agreement. Yet Stella chuckled, and indeed, there grew a sense of anticipation as they beheld their friend.
"Y'know, I was visiting him with my family when he'd gotten it, so when he came back all mad an' shit, my dad got worried that something was up. My uncle was living in one of those acre homes in the suburbs way out from Portland, the ones with the big gates on one side. I kid you not, not even ten minutes after he'd gotten back, some truck smashed through the gate and blew right into my uncle's truck, looked like something out of an action movie," Stella narrated, "we went over to see what happened, and the guy who did it was drunk off his mind. My dad had to hold my uncle back from killing him, 'least until the police arrived."
"Holy shit man," Juliet whispered.
"I know, right? We left not long after that. I haven't seen my uncle since then, but we get a letter from time to time, so I imagine he's still alive."
"Guys."
The unexpectedness of Brooke's voice turned everyone's heads towards her, and they observed the Filipina looking down at her phone with an unbefitting anxiousness.
"Look at this," turning her phone to the lot of them, they edged in to stare at what looked to be the Blackwell Academy's news page. What took up most of the screen was the newest article posted by Juliet the evening before, and among other things were there an exceptional amount of comments and shares on other social media sites.
"So it begins," Alyssa murmured, taking the last bite of her protein bar and crumpling the wrapper in her hand. Juliet audibly gulped, Dana looked at the comments with a myriad of emotions on her face, Stella raised her eyebrows and chuckled at the more colorful remarks left by other students. Brooke placed her phone on the table, and with a not-so-subtle cough she beckoned their attention once more, "We're not the only ones who've noticed."
As one, they looked to the only other people in the lounge, and an irate Courtney and Taylor stood glaring at them, the phones in their hands presented the source of their passive hostility towards the five. Juliet likened them in that moment to reactive puppets of their own vices, strung to act and carry themselves to the whim of their puppet queen.
Where the hell was Chase anyways?
The door to the outer realm opened then, and on cue, Victoria stepped into the room. Her entire presence brought ice cold dread to them, so deadly to the touch and with a promise of assured destruction. Juliet tensed as Chase singled her out, glaring this promise, and beckoning her puppets to her side with a snap of the fingers. They obeyed instantly, not wanting to tempt their queen's wrath. And the three nobles made their way to the opposite end of the table, choosing to stand and glower at Juliet's group opposing them.
"Hello, Watson," Victoria greeted, coldly. A slithering smile curled her lips.
It begins.
"Hi," Juliet deadpanned, her brow furrowed the slightest.
The royal blonde cocked her head, as if innocently concerned, "You seem pretty upset, is something the matter?"
The force of her heartbeat kept Juliet silent and still, the thrumming thunder residing within peaking her anxiety and leaving her on edge.
"Do pardon me, then," Chase continued, "I didn't mean to hurt your fragile state of mind. It's just...I'm curious. You know you didn't have to be a spineless whore and attack our club because you're still hurt over being kicked out, and yet, here we are."
It takes everything within the reporter not to raise her voice, to not give the bitch the satisfaction of getting under her skin, "I don't give a damn about your club."
"Sure as hell doesn't seem like it, what with how you're pinning everything on Nathan," Chase countered, "and don't give me that pitiful excuse of, 'but he's the rich kid!' because I know you've got better reasons than that, even if you hide behind that piss-poor attempt of non-biased reporting."
"I don't have to explain shit, especially to the likes of you," Watson snarled.
The Queen chuckled then, as if struck by genuine amusement, "My, does someone feel empowered because of their little friends?" and then came the smirk, "I bet you wouldn't be saying such bold and prideful words if we were having a more private discussion."
"You think you're going to change my mind and let your boy-toy get away with something like this? Take your money and your bullshit and fuck off, Victoria."
The queen did not fuck off. Instead she frowned, greedy emerald eyes directed their full force to Juliet's equally jaded green counterparts. By now, everyone was tense with a burning palpitation to attack, the slightest indication by the two could set off a potential brawl if they dared.
"It's a shame you're not keen enough to know that Nathan and I aren't seeing each other. I suppose it's to be expected, coming from you, so I understand—"
Fuck you too, bitch.
"—regardless, I'm not doing this to make you feel bad for your god-awful reporting, which I should be. I'm here to tell you to shut this down while you still can."
It sounded so sincere, so genuine and heartfelt. She couldn't help it: Juliet snorted, holding a hand to her mouth to keep from outright giggling with disbelief. Shoulders shuddered from the hysterics, and amongst Watson her fellow friends looked to her with slight concern.
She righted herself to sneer at Victoria's stone-cold grimace, "I don't give a fuck what you think, I'm not taking that shit down."
"I'm being serious," the queen frostily spoke, "there's still some time left before Nathan sends his hounds after you. Do you have even the slightest idea what they'll do to you, Watson?" Chase placed both hands upon the table, leaning close to the glaring reporter across from her, "Not only will they tear you apart, they'll tear apart everyone you love and care for. No one will be spared."
Underneath the table, unseen to anyone, Juliet's hands clenched into trembling fists.
"But there's more to this than what Nathan's been doing at his parties," Victoria prodded, giving a self-deserved smirk as Juliet's frown deepened, "This is about Marsh, isn't it?"
The bronze-brunette then shot up from her seat, and got up in Chase's face, "You're god-damn right it is—"
"So then what, you think she's being bullied?" the pixie-blonde interrupted, feigning concern, "you think Nathan's tormenting her for being a spineless coward, much like yourself? How touching, the mice are banding together."
"As if you didn't torment her as much as him," Watson bit back, "that's the thing about snakes like you, you have no heart, you can never have a heart, no matter what you do. It's surprising you even try."
That haughty grimace deepened, "It's not my fault that you're a fucking joke. Even now, after asking you to save yourself and your friends, you'd still rather whine of your bias and shove the blame onto others" and Victoria smirked, venomous and cocky, "I bet you haven't even seen Kate all this time, haven't you? Tell me, dear Watson, do you know how easy it was to express to poor, little Kate how sorry I was for what happened to her? You should've been there, it was a wonderful sight."
Victoria could see the instant of the snap, the widening of angry eyes, the curling of brows, snarling, gnashing white teeth. Watson took the bait. It felt wondrous and horrible at the same time.
"You fucking—!" and the others surrounding Watson rose up as one, each taking hold of the girl's arms to keep her from leaping across the table, and it was followed by a chorus of whispering placations into the fiery brunette to calm her down.
So Victoria looked on, having lost her triumphant smirk. Seeing the genuine fire in her opponent's eyes, seeing it burn with trembling fury, then die out so pitifully as Watson stopped resisting her friends' arms, a sudden weight in Victoria's cold heart made itself known. Guilt, she deduced. She pushed it down with a huff.
For a few seconds, no one moved, no one spoke.
"Max is taking care of her."
"What?" Watson rasped.
"Caulfield, the quiet one," Chase continued, "she's taking care of Kate. I saw it myself. She's being a far better person right now than either of us have been," and that grimace was back, as emerald green eyes glared forlornly down at the table, "we should be helping her, but instead we're fighting each other."
"Since when did you care about Kate?" Juliet barbed, "After all the shit you put her through, all the hate you gave her—"
"I do not hate her!" she yelled, stuttering Juliet's rant, "contrary to popular belief and your bullshit sources, I've done more for Marsh than you, than any of you—I gave her a reason to stand up for herself when she'd rather roll over and fucking give up, because that's all you ever let her think was right!"
Stirred into a tirade, Chase speared an accusing finger Juliet's way, "You think you can accuse me of being hurtful when you've also done nothing to help her, you fucking hypocrite. Instead of being the great friend you claim to be, you decide to make up a bunch of bullshit about Nathan because what, he's the easiest to pin the blame on? And then you don't even have the fucking empathy to bother checking up on your own friend—"
"I'm not getting lectured by the likes of you, Victoria," Dana stood ever so slightly higher than Chase and put such height to good use, glaring at the blonde, "especially since it was you who drove Kate into feeling so dissociated from everyone else. Saying that you were helping her 'stand up for herself,' doesn't excuse you from being a miserable bitch to her!"
"Oh, and you did any better?" Chase indignantly retorted.
Dana fumed, "I treated her like a human being, unlike you."
"You treated her like a fucking porcelain doll, like she couldn't help herself," the Queen coldly remarked, "and now you're mad at me because you can't blame yourselves."
"Did you even read the fucking article?" Juliet countered, "this is about what Prescott's been doing at those parties, all the drugs he buys—we all know he brings all kinds of shit, we know did something to Kate, and yet what did you do to help her? Hmm? What did you do, Victoria?"
Taylor and Courtney side-eyed their leader with concern as she shivered the slightest, her icy exterior melting into a sudden boiling aggravation, yet Victoria clamped down the insult on the tip of her tongue, "This is why I'm telling you now, get rid of your mistake, and take it down. Or else…"
"Or else what?" Juliet barked, indignant.
"Or else I can't help you from Nathan."
There was something in the way Chase spoke those words, a form of desperate sincerity, bordering on an emotion they'd never seen her with. The kind they'd likened such fervor to themselves, for it was never considered that the nobility up above had the ability to express such…concern, over one not of their own. It was so foreign to the girls in this regard, that they didn't lash out at Victoria.
At least, not until they overcame their shock.
"Oh piss off, verdammte Hure!" a mighty cry from Stella stunned everyone from their reverie, "You're only saying that 'cause you'll be all alone when Prescott gets tossed in jail where he belongs, so shove it up your ass!"
"Back off Victoria, unless you know what's good for you and your friends," Dana countered as well—
"You will not stand between us and assured destiny," Alyssa bellowed, low and determined. She stood proudly, with crossed arms and a straight-edge brow she made her challenge known.
The features on Chase's perfect face morphed into agitation, a twitching of the eye was all she had for their declarations. A lengthy pause as they watched the turmoil within her settle behind a stoic mask.
Then, with venom, she finally said, "Alright, then. I won't stop you."
And with a grace unlike her words, Victoria turned, and her aides followed her away and swiftly out the lounge, leaving the girls in silence. Juliet breathed a sigh of relief as she sat back down in her chair.
"…we did it."
Hearty chuckles resounded, and Juliet's words were repeated in choppy unison, "We did it!"
"Hell yeah! We kicked her ass!" energized from their scaring off the queen bitch, Stella gave Juliet's back a mighty smack, once again earning a yelp as Watson fumbled off her chair from the force. Immediately did the others cackle at the sight, as an annoyed Juliet tried to catch the cackling ebony brunette, who'd resorted to using Alyssa as an impromptu shield.
Stepping into her second period History class brought with it a sense of anticipation, somewhere between dreadful and exhilarating. The students already seated were abuzz with chatter. When passing the clusters of them gathered at desks, Juliet noted with a sense of relief that they were too focused on the topic of discussion to notice her as she slumped into her seat at the fourth table in the back.
Since she'd first stepped into the bustle of the morning classes, it was like the very air had changed. It did not carry the cold morning breeze as prominently as it did before, rather it seemed like the whole school was jarred from an intangible slumber, lifted from its stone cold bed and burning with the warmth of some feeling, some pervading sense of—
Justice. Pure, untainted justice.
So Juliet smirked to herself, listening as a resounding cackle erupted from a trio of students up to the front of the class. From the door, Dana strutted her way in, giving a cheery hello to some fellow cheerleaders sitting at a nearby table before homing in on the reporter. With a glistening grin, Dana greeted her bestie, and sat in the chair next to her, leaning forward so that her elbows rested upon her thighs.
"It's like the whole school is alive, isn't it?" the auburnette remarked, eyes panning to the many conversations in the room.
"Yeah, it is. I'm surprised I haven't been called up by the big rat in his swivel chair yet," Watson pondered, "maybe the secretary doesn't care enough to tell him."
"You think she wouldn't, with something like this?"
"Not likely, but you know how she is. She doesn't even speak words, only grunts."
Dana snickered at that, yet her laughter fell short when she noticed something. Juliet traced her friend's gaze, and eyed a black-haired boy, sitting at the table just beyond them, not engaged in conversation, and most notably, looking awfully upset. It was subtle, but Watson could see the little twitches of his brow, like a boiling agitation brewed under his neutral expression. He was gripping his phone tightly, and whatever was displayed on its screen seemed to be the source of his anger.
Juliet sifted through her memory, and realized the boy was Prescott's right hand man in the Internationale, Carl Markson. Carl had been a part of the Blackwell Speech and Debate club before it was disbanded from a lack of funds, but from the few pieces she had to write about his speeches, Juliet knew she wouldn't like him. He was like a snake, if she had to give description of him: a snake who'd slither into friendships he doesn't care for and squeeze the life out of the poor people within them, either by feigning sabotage or making them turn on one another.
Juliet imagined that the kind of people like him needed at least some form of friendship not entirely driven by the desire to subvert, and it was in the Internationale that he must've found his purpose. It seemed fitting that Markson and Prescott were the best of friends, fellow snakes and rabid dogs banding together to torment the rest of the populace.
From the intercom near the door, came the chime of two rings of the bell, before the announcement rung out through the building, and the students dimmed in their chatter to listen—
'Nathan Prescott, please head to the Principal's office. Nathan Prescott, please head to the Principal's office, thank you.'
The intercom shut off with a clunk, and immediately the banter rose to a sweltering crescendo, as Juliet looked from the door to Markson, seeing him typing furiously. A pause in his motion, as Carl read whatever reply he'd gotten, before he abruptly stood and walked out of the classroom, a few gazes following him as he left.
Watson and Ward spared a glance to each other, not liking the feeling of discomfort swell in their hearts. Choosing now to attempt fishing her notebook out of her satchel, Juliet thought of the possibility that maybe it wasn't as clear cut as the announcement had made it look.
What if Wells is in cahoots with Nathan, and they're planning something?
Juliet couldn't shelf the possibility. Sure, she'd made the first move, but how they'd respond is another thing entirely. For all she imagined, Juliet pictured the two of them, Wells the barking, rabid dog foaming at the mouth with the rancid aftertaste of liquor, with a sneering Nathan holding the mutt on a chain leash, taunting, daring her to give him the slightest justification to turn the hound loose. Just thinking of what lied beyond the halls after class made her shiver.
"Uhm, Dana?"
"Hm?" Ward turned from her etching into the notebook in front of her.
"Have the others said anything?"
Dana fished out her smartphone from her pocket, and Juliet acutely wished she'd bring her phone with her to class more often. Dana fiddled to the group chat, scrolling to the bottom.
"Nothing much, just Brooke going off again about how she misses Warren."
"…huh."
"Stella's asking if Brooke's gonna break into the nurse's office…heh, Brooke says she might if she doesn't get a text from him."
Juliet chuckled, trailing off with a nervous sigh, sometime since she'd gotten the habit of anxiously bouncing her leg. Try as she might, she couldn't get rid of that pervading noise in her head, running on about what Victoria had said to her.
What if she was shirking away from checking up on Kate?
A part of her says it's not true, that it cannot be true: she'd just assumed someone who was friends with Kate was being there for her in Juliet's stead. Sure, she might not remember much of this Max character, but whoever the quiet girl was, she definitely didn't seem like the kind to fall in rank with the queen and her puppets. Rationalizing this, her hatred towards Chase and her nobility surged, damn them for placing these doubts in her head.
Fucking vipers, all of them.
But doubt crept once again, taunting and uncertain. What if Max was not what she seemed? It stuck out to her when Victoria mentioned that Max was taking care of Kate. How the hell did Victoria know about Max taking care of her? The queen wasn't there to see the incident first-hand, Juliet was sure of that. Is Max actually a friend of Victoria's, and is just keeping an eye on Kate to make sure that Chase doesn't get blamed for assisted suicide or something?
What if Max is secretly friends with not only Victoria, but also Prescott?
These questions twisted the wringing knot in her stomach, and the nervous bouncing in her leg grew prominently faster and more excessive, but she didn't care, she needed answers to these damn questions—
Noticing the inner turmoil, Dana placed a firm hand on her friend's knee, the shaking stopped, and she beckoned to Juliet, "Relax, Jules. It's going to be okay," patting her knee with a supportive smile, Dana turned back to her notebook.
The teacher made himself known after being five minutes late, a fat busybody by the name of Mr. Bowman, dubbed by the student populace as "Boomer Bowman" for his eccentric views on everything and anything one could think of. Immediately did his voice carry out and single-handedly drown out the chorus of chatting, like the echo of a horn localized within the off white walls of the room.
"Goo~od Morning, ladies and gents! I hope you all did the homework last night, 'cause we got a lesson building off of that to start up today," he took no notice as the class went abruptly silent, shuffling the drawers of his desk space to pull out a hefty stack of packets, "Today's lesson will be about the 1500's Peasant's Revolt in the Holy Roman Empire—"
As the man busied himself with passing out the packets, Juliet busied herself by desperately searching for the assignment she was dubiously certain she'd completed, with Dana playfully snickering at her friend as she sifted through the haphazardly placed papers in her bag.
"S'matter Jules, you missing somethin'?" Dana quipped, earning her a half-hearted smack to the leg as she started cackling.
"I don't see you stressing over this shit, did you do it?"
"Nah."
Juliet looked at Dana like as if she'd sprouted a second head.
"Jules, you think he cares? Look," and as she gestured, Mr. Bowman came swaggering over to their table, with a smile he placed two packets down and immediately weaved his way up front, toward the projector.
Juliet shook her head free of the frustration, taking a packet and resting her head in one hand.
"Just take it easy. Once Wells calls for us, then we'll deal with it. Until then, we sit back and we wait," Dana whispered to her, the class had grown quiet as the lesson was about to start.
A sigh, then with a resigned tone, "Right, alright."
Her stomach growled again, but this time it was with a shared frustration, as Juliet looked up at the blackboard perched above the kitchen, where cooks busied themselves with whatever it took to prepare such mediocre dishes the school provides. In bright yellow chalk, taking up the whole of the section designated for announcements, was a decree that meat would be rationed from three servings to one.
So the rumors were true.
Word had gone around within the hour that a group of rats had managed to sneak into the meat locker beyond the kitchen and get their grubby, nasty paws on some of the produce, meaning that instead of receiving a mouthwatering quarter-tray's worth of cooked steak, every kid ushered into the lunch line was served with a dollop of boiled chicken, some fresh, some still dry from being hurriedly tossed into the ovens.
How there wasn't some violation of the health policy was currently beyond Juliet's comprehension.
Momentarily wincing as the dollop of meat was plopped onto her tray, Juliet hastily exited the line, stopping at the condiments booth to add some ketchup for her dash of French fries, before making her way over to the tables. Her friends have taken their favorite spot, a larger table farthest from the entrance, away from the inevitable stampede that will occur once lunch period ends.
Watson took her spot next to Dana on her left, who sat poking the few sweet peas remaining on her tray with a plastic fork, and Alyssa on her right, not even bothering with a school lunch and instead chewing on another protein bar. Brooke, being the smarter of the lot, had decided to pack a lunch composed of some chips and plain sandwiches. Stella sat at the farthest to the right, fiddling with the wrapper around her plastic cutlery, eyeing the Asian girl's lunch next to her with a palpable envy. Juliet couldn't help but agree to Stella's plight—those peanut butter and jelly slabs looked far more delectable than cold, dried chicken.
Surrounding them was the cacophony of chatter, as almost the entire student populace lamented to their fellow peers about their day, about the god awful sustenance they'd been served. Juliet noted with a hopeful glee that the primary topic of discussion was still about Prescott and his schemes, and it brought a renewed sense of assured justification. Her doubts plagued her mind, but she had yet to be called up by Wells, and Prescott hadn't shown his face at all today, probably cowering from the fear of being scorned.
Juliet loved democracy.
"They're still keeping Warren from leaving the nurse's office."
Eyes turned to Brooke, who was looking at her phone with a disheartened glare, too tired to convey feeling, "They let some friend of his drop off his lunch, but they won't let anyone else in to see him."
"You alright, Brooke?" Stella asked her, laid back.
"It's just…it's just bullshit," she hissed, "They let some guy in who he probably doesn't know that well, but even though I've known him for years, whenever I try they're like, 'Sorry miss, he's still recovering, we can't have any disruptions,' like I'm gonna fucking poke his eye out or something."
"That is kinda sus'," Dana agreed.
"I bet they think you're gonna get frisky with 'im," Stella teased with a wiggle of her eyebrows, earning her a flustered glare, the brunette cackled as she was lightly smacked in the arm by Brooke.
"Ey-ey-ey, chill! I'm playin'!" she cackled, as the Filipina only huffed her apology and turned to eating her sandwiches, embarrassed.
"That is weird, though," remarked Juliet, dabbing a French fry into ketchup, "How's he gonna get those detention hours out of the way if they keep him locked up there?"
"Because it's bullshit?" asked Alyssa.
"It's school bullshit," piped Stella.
"It's bureaucratic, academic bullshit," Brooke deadpanned.
"There it is!"
Juliet savored the tang of ketchup and fried potatoes and the comfort of her friends, trying to keep those nerve-wracking thoughts out of her head. There was that creeping feeling, the one that someone would feel as a child knowing full well they'd be scolded by their parents, the kind of seeing the red failure markings painted onto a test like it was the scene of a homicide. It surrounded her being and suddenly she felt conscious of the vibe she was giving off. The others didn't pay her much mind though, they're too busy dealing with their hunger to worry about her.
A sigh, a shake of the head in the hopes it'd clear her mind.
I'm gonna get a headache at this rate.
Unbeknownst to the lot of them, through the haze of students the double-door entrance to the cafeteria opened, and a notable number of students walked into the cafeteria, most notable was the closeness of the mass around one particular figure. They didn't bother with getting into the lunch line, rather they stalked their way towards the other end of the tables, towards their target.
It was Alyssa who first saw them, who stopped chewing on her bar and instinctually clenched the wrapper in a tight fist.
"Uh, Alyssa? You good…?" Stella asked, stopped mid-rant about some story involving her grandfather.
"They're here."
"Who's here—" Juliet followed Anderson's eyes to the hounds approaching them and felt her heart stop, immediately gripping the table to shift herself towards them. Confused looks from the others brought the same conclusion as one by one, they eyed the sprawling members of Prescott's Internationale. The hounds circled their table, eyeing them with a predatory glint and standing haughty over them, with fake smiles on their faces. The manifestation of dread appeared in the flesh, sporting a smirk of his own and looking laxed in his red letterman jacket.
"Hello, ladies."
They all tensed at the sarcastic pitch, watching as he and a few cohorts take a seat opposite to them.
"I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time. I just want to make this quick before I go."
Juliet counted what looked to be about twenty of them, all male, all bigger and stronger than her. If this were to go south, the only ones that could put up a fight would likely be Alyssa and Dana, but with their numbers, it wouldn't matter.
We're right in his trap.
"Now look, Juliet," Nathan tilted his head back, uncaring, "I don't give a fuck where this is coming from, to be honest. If you just wanted to get back at me, you should have just made it between you and me and no one else."
He leaned in, tilting his head down, his darkened eyes leered at her from beneath his brow, "But since you wanted to make life difficult for the both of us, I'm going to have to fix it."
Fuck this.
"Fix what, your mistakes, or your lack of dignity?" she fired at him and watched his eye twitch with a prideful glee.
"Delete the article in the next hour. If I don't see that shit gone, then I'm going to have to do something that you don't want me to do. I'm sure you're smart enough to know what that means."
"Threatening to beat me up won't get you what you want," she defiantly glared.
"Who said I was talking about you?" he smirked, and so did the other boys surrounding them, and Juliet felt the fear creep under her skin with a shudder. The rest of her friends sat hunched, awaiting the moment of terror.
Don't give in.
"You keep them out of this, Prescott. It's all my work, it's all my doing, not theirs."
"That's the thing, Watson. You had your chance to make it personal, but as you can see," he gestured to the surrounding sea of unsuspecting students, "you've chosen what you wanted, you have chosen their fate," and those eyes, blue and sharp, held her tongue with their fire, with their maddening appeal, "and since you have forced my hand, I can do nothing but follow through."
He really would let his hounds tear them apart, here and now. Wouldn't he? She had expected a reaction, but not something of this magnitude, of this severity. It was an unpredictable situation with an even more unpredictable outcome.
It's a bluff. It's a threat. It's a promise. Make your move.
The eyes of the prince, cold and indifferent, looked to her, awaiting.
"...one condition."
"What?" he demanded.
She glared him down, "I'll do it, but on one condition."
He eyed her, disbelieving. Then, with a smirk, he raised an eyebrow, "That so? And what would that be?"
Juliet leaned herself as forward as she could, as close to him as possible. He made no move to retreat, indifferent to her rage.
"I want you to do me the favor of sucking my fat fucking nuts," she rasped, fiery and defiant.
No one moved, no one spoke.
Nathan wheezed.
With a clenched jaw and a reddening face, he wheezed, chortling. He held himself up with an arm on the table and laughed so terribly. The boys around him started chuckling as well, low and terrifying. Strung in the hysterics, Juliet also began laughing, and only the rest of her group held still, half worried-half fearful of this infectious laughter.
Nathan's guffaws reached a high peak, and he held a wide, liberating smile on his face, looking genuinely like he was going to pass out from the strain.
With a dramatic swing of the arm, he slammed his fist down hard, silencing the table. Shocked, the droning of the cafeteria chatter died down as everyone looked to the commotion.
The silence was screaming into Juliet's ears.
"Within the next hour, bitch," Nathan hissed, cold and deadly, "or I will make you regret ever fucking with me."
Standing, he nodded to his boys for the door, and they wasted no time in following his pace, some that had surrounded the girls slightly shoved them against the table, earning heated glares to the backs of retreating heads. They were out the cafeteria within seconds, as soon as the double-doors clanked shut the populace were alive with whispers.
Juliet slumped in her chair, scared out of her wits and close to crying. A trembling hand ran through her bronze bangs.
Fuck, that was tense—
With a huff, Alyssa stumbled from her seat to throw the wrapper away. Stella took a shaky sip from her water bottle, gaze not straying from the table. Brooke was darting her eyes, a little frantic over the many glances sent their way by the strangers surrounding them.
Dana was upset, and finished her tray. Shoving the plastic piece aside, she sighed, long and tired.
"We should go."
Immediately did Stella and Brooke agree, getting their backpacks from underneath their seats, while Juliet just mumbled to herself, being gently encouraged by the auburnette to get her stuff packed. Alyssa returned to the table confused, "What's going on?"
"We're leaving," Dana repeated, "there's no point staying here."
Sparing a glance to the chatter returning full force, Alyssa complied, slinging her thick jacket over her shoulder and helping Stella with her empty tray. They hurriedly rushed to the doors, and Juliet looked back to the table, still thrown off by what happened, by what was assured would happen. Only then did she notice something unfamiliar. On the wall that separated the cafeteria and the hallway outside, there were three openings near the top, in one of them was an object she couldn't place, looking like it was sparking excessively. She didn't have the time to recognize it though, before a sudden, distinct whistling sounded and the projectile shot forth, zooming across the room and landing on the ground beneath their table.
"What the—?"
BOOM
The thunderous report of the object was followed by the bedazzling of colors and horrified screams, as the apparent firecracker exploded under the empty table. The girls, shaken from the noise, beat it to the double doors and stepped aside as the rest of their peers stampeded their way out of the now smoking space.
A/N - "verdammte Hure" - German, "[you] damn whore/bitch"