The anxieties of the previous week had receded, Nathan fading into a distant memory. Megara's excitement bubbled as she imagined her new life at Royal Von High, the prestigious sports programs, the opportunities. But a flicker of doubt crept in. This was the school of the elite, even beyond Nathan's reach. She wondered, with a touch of weariness, why her encounters with the wealthy always seemed to end in turmoil. Shrugging off the thought, she focused on preparing for her first day.
Despite her father's offer of a ride, Megara opted for Tobi's car, mindful of her father's job. The drive started in an awkward silence, broken by Tobi's sudden giggle.
"Someone's looking a little gloomy," Tobi teased, patting her shoulder. "Relax, you look petrified."
Megara flinched, brushing his hand away. "I'm not petrified," she admitted, sinking into the seat. "Just nervous. It's a school full of rich kids. I'm afraid my… well, my feelings about them might get in the way."
Tobi snorted, breaking into laughter. "Are you allergic to prosperity? You need to ditch that mentality and embrace a little luxury, sweetheart."
"You sound just like Tara," Megara retorted, rolling her eyes. "Not a good thing."
"Maybe I do," Tobi conceded, his tone serious. "Look, just don't let your insecurities ruin this opportunity. Don't be the pity case. Be the confident, brilliant fighter you are."
"Okay, okay," Megara said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "Your advice still sucks, though." She gave him a light smack on the back.
"Hey, watch it! I'm driving," Tobi warned, his eyes fixed on the road.
Megara felt a wave of relief wash over her. Tobi's words, however clumsily delivered, had eased her anxieties, at least for the moment.
Meanwhile, Uriel, flanked by Zack and Hugo, moved through the hallway, a vortex of admiring glances. He was a study in calculated indifference, a stark contrast to his grinning cohorts. As they approached the stairs, a girl stepped forward, her touch tentative on his arm. Her eyes, soft and pleading, held a desperate hope.
She revealed the crude carving on her stomach: his name, his face, etched into her flesh. "Uriel," she whispered, "I did this for you."
A hush fell over the crowd. Zack, ever the opportunist, leaned in, a cruel smirk twisting his lips.
Uriel's gaze, cold and dismissive, settled on her. "A pity," he drawled, his voice laced with contempt. "Your kind doesn't interest me." He wrenched his arm away, sending her stumbling. "Twenty-four hours. Remove it. Or I'll have you removed."
Tears streamed down her face, but she clung to him, a desperate plea. "Please, Uriel! I love you! I'll change, I'll be perfect—"
Zack snorted, tossing her a scrap of lace. "Looks like Uriel's got a fan. Here," he said, his tone dripping with mockery. "Try this on. Maybe Hugo will notice you then."
The girl stared at the lingerie, her breath catching in her throat. "This is…madness. Please, Uriel—"
He seized her jaw, his grip tightening. "Don't cry," he hissed, his eyes hard. "If you can't do this, disappear."
And so, under the jeering gaze of the student body, she stripped, the thin fabric a stark testament to her humiliation. Uriel, his attention fixed on his phone, walked away, leaving her exposed and broken. The hallway, once filled with admiration, now echoed with the cruel whispers of the crowd.
FEW MINUTES LATERS
Royal Von High stood before them, a monument to privilege, its manicured lawns and imposing architecture radiating an aura of exclusivity. Tobi, momentarily speechless, his gaze sweeping over the grand entrance, finally managed, his voice a low, earnest rumble, "Don't waste a moment, Megara. Make every day here worthwhile." He placed a hand briefly on her shoulder, a silent encouragement before stepping back, leaving her to face the daunting threshold alone.
The grand hall echoed, the rhythmic tick of a distant grandfather clock the only sound. As Megara passed the sweeping staircase, a sob, muffled and desperate, pierced the silence. Tucked into the shadowed alcove beneath the stairs, a figure huddled, shoulders shaking. As she approached, the figure flinched, revealing a girl, no older than herself, clad only in a flimsy, lace-trimmed bikini, her skin bruised and marked.
The girl crumpled back to the floor, her sobs turning into ragged, choked breaths. "Just... leave me," she whispered, her voice thick with tears. "Are you here to laugh too? Haven't they had their fun?" She buried her face in her hands, her thin frame trembling.
Megara's stomach clenched. "I'm Megara Smith," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I'm new. I'm looking for the principal's office."
The girl's eyes, red and swollen, flickered up. "New? And you're not... one of them?" A flicker of desperate hope, quickly extinguished, crossed her face. "Please," she begged, her voice a raw plea. "Turn around. Go back. This place... it'll swallow you whole." She reached out, her fingers grasping Megara's ankle, her grip surprisingly strong. "Don't come here."
Megara, ignoring the girl's frantic grip, reached into her satchel and pulled out a folded navy-blue coverall, the logo of her job, a small, faded wrench, visible on the breast pocket. "Here," she said, her voice steady. "Put this on. It's... my work uniform. Just put it on." She turned slightly, giving the girl some privacy, but kept her voice low and reassuring. "How are you... dressed like this?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
Megara's face hardened, an icy anger settling in her eyes. She snatched the discarded clothes, then, with a flick of her wrist, tossed them back. "Wear them," she commanded, her voice sharp. "They're clothes. I know I'm poor, a scholarship kid, not in your league," she admitted, a bitter edge to her tone.
"But I don't bully, and I'm not ashamed of where I come from. And I'm certainly not the one standing here naked." She gestured sharply. "Put them on. Get out. Find your own clothes in your locker. And hurry. The bullies might be back. I don't plan on starting my first day in a fight."
The girl, disgust warring with desperation, reluctantly donned the oversized hoodie and shorts. A shaky sigh escaped her lips as she glanced down the empty hallway. "Thanks," she whispered, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm Jane Roosevelt." A ghost of a smile touched her lips.
"Megara." Her voice was curt, but concern lingered. "What happened? And why aren't you reporting this?"
Jane's smile faltered. As they walked towards the locker room, she patted Megara's arm, a forced lightness in her touch. "It's complicated. And my family... it's better if I don't." She fumbled with her locker. "My crush... he did this. If I report him, he'll make sure I regret it."
"He did this?" Megara's voice was laced with venom. "Even the rich bully the rich? That's a new level of low."
Jane changed into her spare uniform, her movements quick and brittle. At the principal's office, she turned to Megara, her eyes filled with a desperate plea. "Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "But don't contact me again. They'll... they'll make things worse for you." Then she disappeared into the office, leaving Megara standing alone, a knot of anger and confusion tightening in her chest.