Jessica’s POV
Of course, you scared ! I wanted to yell at her face, but the words hung on my tongue.
The atmosphere was electric, charged with an unsettling tension. As I glanced around, I noticed a few students scurrying away from my surroundings, lending us even more space.
My brows creased in confusion. It seed this group of students was the reason the noise had suddenly died down earlier.
But what did they want from ? Our paths had never crossed before, and from the look of things, they weren’t here to extend a hand of friendship. Their intentions seed far from welcoming.
"You’re... quite popular, aren’t you?" their leader asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.
She was a vision of elegance, sporting blonde hair, tall with enviable curves in all the right places, and piercing brown eyes that seed to bore into my soul. Leaning lazily against the locker beside mine, her face remained devoid of expression, a mask of indifference.
Yet, she exuded overwhelming confidence and elegance - a poise that left questioning whether I could ever possess it. Her tone was light, almost playful, but I knew better. I recognized the subtle venom lurking beneath.
My instincts scread warning, sensing the tension building. But I stood firm, bracing for whatever was to co.
"And who might you be?" I asked, my eyes narrowing slightly.
The question hung in the air, and I heard gasps in the crowd. Whatever made those people react like that... then, my mind twirled. Were these the famous scenes of a scripted high school drama unfolding before my eyes?
I’d watched scenes like this a couple of tis. The cliche never got old.
The others in the group eyed with hostility, their faces darkening. The leader’s gaze never wavered, her expression still infuriatingly neutral.
Just as the tension seed to stretch on forever, enough to slice my self-confidence, a snapping sound tore through the air. My heart skipped a beat and my gaze subconsciously found the person.
A guy in the group had folded a belt in two, the leather cracking sharply under the pressure. His eyes locked onto mine, slowly stripping off my facade of defiance.
The leader’s gaze flicked to her companion, a subtle warning flashing across her face.
"Jessica..." she said, her voice low and calm. I thought we were simply sharing a nasake, until she added, "I heard that’s your na."
I felt a shiver run down my spine. How did she know ? Her connection must run deep. Where had she uncovered my identity? Was it through Max, or had she dug through the school’s records? It’s not even twenty minutes!
Her gaze held mine, an unnerving intensity that made wonder what else she knew about .
She pushed off the locker, her movents fluid and deliberate, and took a step closer.
Her pedicured nails grazed my jawline, turning my face here and there. The gentle touch belied the intention. I could feel her sharp nail digging into my skin, accompanied by a sharp pain.
My brows creased in annoyance, and I slapped her hand away, the sound echoing through the tense silence. I didn’t hold back, it seed.
The group’s eyes widened, their faces a mixture of shock and anticipation. Gasps and murmurs whispered in the air, but I was too annoyed by the pain in my jaw to care.
Her gaze locked onto mine, a spark of anger flashing within her eyes. But it was fleeting, replaced by a slight curve of her lips.
"You don’t cower," she said, her voice dripping with intrigue. Lowering her eyes, she glanced at her wrist, where a patch of redness blood from the hard slap I’d given her.
"This will be more fun than I thought," she purred, her lips curling upward.
With that, she gave a chilling, skin-numbing smile, and a sinister glint flashed in her eyes.
"We’ll et again... Jessica."
The way she said my na made my hair stand on ends. I noticed it again - that lingering pause before she spoke it, as if savoring the sound or ensuring I knew she knew .
It was a subtle hesitation, but one that unnerved . Why did she always pause before calling my na? Was it a deliberate tactic to unsettle , or sothing more?
She turned to leave, the sound of her stilettos clicking ominously against the tiles as she moved away. Her entourage fell in step behind her, their eyes lingering on with a mix of intimidation and hatred. The belt cracker cracked his belt again, his hostile gaze on .
As they disappeared into the crowd, I felt my knees buckle under my weight. I leaned on my locker for support.
Who were they? How did I get on their wrong side?
The encounter left with more questions than answers, and an unsettling sense of foreboding.
The murmurs swelled, and I felt the weight of everyone’s gaze upon . So eyes held pity, others curiosity, but I couldn’t bear the scrutiny. At this point, I knew it was ti to escape.
I picked myself up, gathering what remained of my dignity. With a deliberate stride, I walked away from the scene, leaving the whispers and stares behind. The lecture hall was just a few steps away, it would shield from unfolding drama, so I thought.
I stepped into the classroom, where a lively hum of freshn activity enveloped . So chatted animatedly, others rummaged through backpacks, while so read or gazed out the window, lost in thought.
But then there were those who watched – their eyes locked onto , tracking step I took.
I felt a self-conscious twitch in my step, that awkward awareness that cos with being under scrutiny. My feet seed heavier, my movents stiffer, as if my very walk was being analyzed.
It was uncomfortable, annoying even.
Taking an empty seat by the window, I pulled out the school’s handbook to distract myself. Maybe those who were reading were also doing it to avoid those uncomfortable monts.
As I flipped through the handbook, I found the school rules surprisingly reasonable. They were straightforward and protective, prioritizing students’ well-being:
- Zero tolerance for bullying
- No romantic relationships with school authorities or professors
- Strict prohibitions on malpractice, theft, and other serious offenses
- Expulsion for severe infractions
The policies seed designed to foster a safe, respectful environnt. I wondered if they were genuinely enforced, or just words on paper.
"Hey," a soft, feminine voice broke into my reading, drawing my attention away from the handbook.
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