• • • • • ● • • • • •
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟒
" 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐚𝐥 "
• • • • • ● • • • • •

          Dr. Goldman's lips are moving, but the words won't register in my head. I've just finished taking my makeup tests. He's telling me about my punishment, but I can't seem to understand what he's saying.

"I'm what?" I ask after he finishes talking.

Taking eight exams in one sitting is hell, believe me. It's information overload, and my head is so close to imploding. My brain is now refusing to accept any new bit of information. I might as well stick a note on my forehead that says, "Closed until further notice."

Dr. Goldman's voice brings me back to focus. "You're getting transferred, Mr. Gray-Gomez," he repeats.

Transferred. I blink. I must be having an aneurysm because what he's saying makes zero sense. Dr. Mom would never transfer me; St. Madeleine is the best private school in the state.

"Transferred where, Dr. Goldman?"

"To D-Class, Mr. Gray-Gomez."

Oh. I blink. That is so much worse than transferring schools. 

"D-Class." He emphasizes the D like it's an insult. 

It is. 

D-Class is a laughingstock. It's a class filled with washouts and troublemakers. Varsity players who've taken one too many hits to the head. Students who barely passed the entrance exam. I barely even notice them on campus. They're just so... irrelevant.

This has to be some kind of a joke. So I laugh. "You must be mistaken, Doc --"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Gray-Gomez," he cuts me off. He's wearing my name out, and I'm getting tired of the false civility.

I clench my fists behind my back, where he can't see them. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" He lifts a single eyebrow. "Cheating warrants expulsion, Mr. Gray-Gomez. But since your mother is a valued stakeholder of this academy, I can't very well expel you, can I?"

He asks too many rhetorical questions. And I'm sick of not being allowed to answer.

"Because of your misdemeanor, I no longer see you fit to be an A-Class student," he continues. A sly smirk twitches across his lips as if he's about to deliver a final blow. "Not even your classmates want you in the star section anymore. You're sullying up their good name."

And there it is. The final blow.

Those bastards...

I storm off the exam room in blind fury.

That's the thing about betrayal, isn't it? You never expect it to come from your friends, but it always does. Enemies can't betray you; they never had your trust in the first place. But your friends...

My friends...

I trusted them like family. And that just makes it worse.

It's Saturday, and if A-Class students were normal, they'd be at home, enjoying the first day of winter break. But since they aren't, I know where they are. Topnotch Café. Peer group study. I was the one who brought them there in the first place. Is nothing sacred to these animals anymore?!

My feet could crack pavement with the way I'm speed-walking to the place. Anger is just pouring right out of me. I see the Topnotch signboard up ahead, and even from a distance, I see Anya sitting by the second-floor terrace. Her favorite spot. Our favorite spot. God! I fight off the urge to fling a rock at her right away.

Someone gets to the entrance as I approach. It's Mack, with an armful of textbooks and a bag over his shoulder. He sees me. He smiles.

"How was the exam--"

"Did you know?!" I'm suddenly all up in his face. "Were you in on it?!"

"Whoa!" He raises his textbooks. "Calm down, tiger."

"Cut it, Mack," I hiss. "Did. You. Know?"

He finally registers the tone of my voice and realizes I'm not screwing around. His teeth bite down on his lower lip, a mindless habit he does when he's confused.

"What's this about, Nico?" he asks tentatively.

"I'm off the A-Class."

His eyes widen. "What? No!"

Mack and I have been inseparable since we were kids. I've seen, known and memorized all his tics and facial expressions. I know what he looks like when he's hungry, I know what he looks like when he's scared. Hell, I even know what he looks like in pleasure. I especially know what he looks like when he lies.

With the expression on his face right now, I can tell he's telling the truth.

A weight is suddenly lifted off my chest. I sigh in relief, clasping Mack on the shoulder.

I can bear the fact that all my other friends betrayed me. But if Mack were in on it, I don't know how I'd take it. "You really don't know?" I ask anyway.

He shakes his head. "Doc is kicking you out?"

"That's what he said," I reply. Exhaling, I look up to the veranda. Anya's still visible from the view. "He said the class voted for it, too."

Mack cranes his head back to look up at our gang. Their gang. When he faces me again, his eyebrows are scrunched up, forehead wrinkled. A flicker of realization crosses his eyes. He knows something. "Fuck," he whispers, his free hand landing on his forehead.

"What?"

"The meeting with the class officers yesterday," he says. "Anya was being really dodgy about it."

"That bitch!" I push on to enter the café and give Anya a bitter piece of my mind, but Mack blocks me. His palm sprawls out on my chest, pushing me back.

"You're gonna cause a scene," he says, looking over his shoulder.

"You bet I'm gonna."

"Nico, you're better than this," he says, his brown eyes boring into mine.

A single stare levels me. Mack has always had this effect on me, I can't help it. The piercing warmth of his eyes ironically succeeds at cooling me down. He breathes in through his mouth, holds it, then exhales through the nose. Soon enough, I'm copying him and I've undoubtedly come down from the rage.

"Hey, Porter!" A voice chirps from above.

Anya is looking down at us from the terrace. She has her pink lemonade in her hand, sunglasses dangling from her pinky finger. Her eyes rake up and down my figure and she smirks. "Hey, D-class," she mocks.

My jaw ticks. "You voted me off the class?" There's no hiding the betrayal in my voice.

"After what you said in front of Doc?" She chuckles. "Baby, you know I had to. You were this close to snitching us out. You know I don't take too kindly to betrayal."

My mouth falls wide open. She's talking about betrayal? That's rich.

Having rendered me speechless by her sheer audacity, she points at Mack. "Now, you," she says. "Get your ass up here. I need those textbooks if I'm gonna ace Astronomy next term. Daddy expects straight As, and in return I expect Gucci."

I shake my head in disbelief. Anya has always been this crass. When we were friends, it was entertaining. Watching her ridicule freshmen wannabes was a sport and an art all in itself. But now that I'm on the receiving end of her folly, I realize how rotten her little game is. Oh, how things change.

I look at Mack. He's looking at the textbooks in his hands, pensive with eyebrows drawn together. He looks at me. Then he looks up at Anya.

Mack purses his lips, tightens his grip on the books. "Go fuck yourself, Anya."

My eyes widen with mirth. He just cursed out Anya Havertz. He did that for me!

The look of utter shock in Anya's face is a great consolation to being booted out of the section. My life may be potentially ruined, but her face – that red-stained mouth forming a perfect O, those plucked eyebrows scrunching up, wrinkling her forehead – oh, that is gold!

My middle finger flashes out, just in case Mack's message wasn't clear enough.

Our other backstabbing classmates make their way to the railings. They stand next to Anya, gawking at the scene.

Mack, who advised against making a scene earlier, smirks at me and shrugs. He raises a hand and joins me in flipping them off.

He clasps my shoulders, and we stroll away laughing as A-class glares pierce through our backs.

Let them glare. There's nothing more they can do to me now.