Chapter 18

Dolores shuffled down the hallway, the polished floorboards echoing the soft thud of her sneakers. Her stomach rumbled, a persistent reminder of the meager breakfast she'd choked down earlier. The aroma of freshly baked bread, wafting from the direction of the Grand Refectory, made her mouth water.

Suddenly, a shiver danced down her spine, an inexplicable prickle that sent a jolt of unease through her. Instinctively, she tilted her head, catching a fleeting glimpse of something smoky vanish beneath the door of a nearby classroom. The hallway, bathed in the afternoon sun, seemed to shimmer for a moment, making her question her sanity.

"Gosh," she muttered, rubbing her eyes, "am I that hungry, I'm seeing things?"

Shaking off the bizarre sensation, Dolores pushed open the heavy oak door of the Grand Refectory. Inside, the air buzzed with the cacophony of more than a hundred chattering students. Two long tables stretched down the center of the room, one occupied entirely by female students, the other a sea of boisterous males.

Dolores peered down the long table, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features. Nadia and Chloe were absent, likely off at their dreaded music practice. "Unlucky ducks," she muttered under her breath.

With a sigh, she navigated the bustling room, weaving between chattering girls laden with trays. Her stomach grumbled again, a persistent reminder of her empty morning. Reaching the designated girls' table, she scanned for an empty seat.

"Dolores!" a voice called out, and she turned to find Calantha waving at her from a corner of the table. A warm smile bloomed on Dolores' face. Calantha had proven to be a kind soul. Sitting beside the president's daughter felt like an honor, a small step towards integration into this unfamiliar pack.

As Dolores settled beside Calantha, a sharp snicker cut through the air. A blonde girl with a pinched expression sneered, "Why'd you have to invite her over, Calantha?"

Calantha's gaze turned steely. "Be nice, Taylor," she said, her voice firm. Taylor simply rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Dolores winced slightly, a wave of awkwardness washing over her. To distract herself, she glanced towards the boys' table across the room. Her breath hitched as her eyes met Axel's. He was staring at her, a dark scowl etched on his face. A ridiculous thought popped into her head. 'Gosh,' she thought with a silent chuckle, 'what crawled up his pants and died?'

Taylor picked up on Dolores' sudden aversion to Axel's gaze. A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips as she leaned closer, her voice dripping with a low snicker. "Dolores have a little crush on Axel, does she?"

Dolores felt her cheeks flush crimson. She tore her gaze away from Axel, her nervous laugh sounding more like a strangled squeak. Calantha, picking at her salad with a seemingly blank expression, didn't look up. Dolores knew this wasn't the conversation to have in front of Calantha, especially considering her past relationship with Axel.

"Why would you say that?" Dolores managed, her voice barely above a whisper. Hating Axel was a much simpler emotion to navigate.

The brunette beside Taylor, a girl with sharp features and eyes that held a glint of mischief, chimed in. "Dolores, honey, your eyes were practically undressing him. Assessing the competition, maybe."

"God, no!" Dolores blurted, the denial a little too vehement to be entirely believable. She stole a glance at Calantha, hoping the conversation wouldn't escalate further. However, Calantha remained glued to her phone, perhaps oblivious to the undercurrent of tension brewing at the table.

Taylor's mouth hung open, the words dying on her lips. Calantha's voice, though cool, held a sharp edge. "Speaking of needing things, Taylor," she drawled, "I heard your father's business ventures haven't been faring well lately. Needs a bit of an influx of cash, doesn't it?"

A furious blush burned across Taylor's face. Everyone knew her family relied heavily on Calantha's father for loans. It was an open secret, a constant source of shame. Calantha, however, wielded it like a weapon.

"One word from me," Calantha continued, her gaze finally lifting from her phone, "and Daddy might just decide to 'revise' some funding allocations." The threat hung heavy in the air, a veiled warning that sent shivers down Dolores' spine.

Dolores cleared her throat, the sound excruciatingly loud in the sudden silence. This was not the lunch break she'd envisioned. 'Awkward timing,' she thought, wincing internally.

Taylor's retort died in her throat, replaced by a disgruntled mutter as she buried her face in her food. The air grew heavy with an uncomfortable silence, every eye seemingly drawn to Calantha's composed demeanor. The aftermath of Calantha's power play hanging heavy in the air.

The quiet was shattered by the screech of a chair scraping against the floor. Dolores groaned inwardly as Elijah swivelled his chair around, leaning back dramatically with his chest resting on the backrest. Of course, he'd choose this moment to make his grand entrance.

Unsurprisingly, a gaggle of girls at the table cast him flirtatious glances, which Elijah returned with a practiced wink that made Dolores scoff internally. The audacity of the man. He cleared his throat theatrically, his voice booming across the room. "DeeT!" he called out, stretching the nickname into two syllables.

Dolores pretended not to hear him, her appetite having abruptly vanished. Elijah, ever the charmer, feigned hurt. "Aww, come on, DeeT," he whined in a mock baby voice, "can't a guy say hi to his favorite junior?"

Calantha cut in before Dolores could formulate a response. "She doesn't want to talk to you, Elijah," she stated coolly.

Elijah shot her a playful smile, his eyes twinkling. "Calie, always the voice of reason," he teased.

"Don't call me that," Calantha snapped, her voice laced with a hint of annoyance.

Elijah simply grinned, unfazed. "My bad, my bad," he chuckled, feigning apology. "Guess that nickname's reserved for…" he trailed off, his gaze flicking towards Axel.

Dolores couldn't help but steal a glance at Calantha, catching the faintest blush blooming on her cheeks as she met Axel's gaze. 'Huh,' she thought, a flicker of something akin to curiosity sparking within her. What exactly did Calantha see in the jerk? Axel was undeniably handsome, with his sharp features and piercing blue eyes, but his constant scowl and arrogant demeanor negated any initial appeal for Dolores. Hot, plus. Bratty jerk, minus. Annoying troublemaker, minus. The mental equation was a clear negative.

Her gaze drifted across the room, unconsciously drawn to another section of the table. Ivan sat there, his fiery hair slightly tousled, a picture of casual indifference. He had his earbuds in, seemingly lost in his own world, oblivious to the drama unfolding at the table. Dolores couldn't help but smile – a genuine, unguarded smile that warmed her entire face. Now that was a guy she wouldn't mind blushing for. There was a certain allure to his quiet confidence, a strength that seemed to emanate from him even without actively trying.

Elijah's voice droned on in the background, seemingly engaged in a flirtatious conversation with a gaggle of giggling girls. Dolores barely registered his words, her focus solely on Ivan. She caught a snippet here and there – something about a party, Elijah's boisterous laugh echoing across the room. But it was just background noise compared to the silent conversation her heart seemed to be having with Ivan, a conversation filled with unspoken possibilities.

A stern voice sliced through Elijah's bravado, sending shivers down the spines of the students at both tables. It belonged to Mr. Hemlock, one of the vice principals.

"Mr. Croft," he boomed, addressing Elijah with a pointed glare, "last I checked, the school dress code doesn't permit male students to wear skirts. Perhaps you'd be more comfortable rejoining your own table."

Elijah, ever the charmer, flashed Mr. Hemlock a disarming smile that wouldn't have worked on a grumpy troll. "Just checking in on the ladies, Mr. Hemlock," he drawled, his voice dripping with mock innocence. With a final wink towards Dolores, he sauntered back to the boys' table, leaving behind a trail of frustrated sighs and nervous giggles.

Dolores, relieved to be rid of his unwelcome presence, lifted her gaze to the front of the Grand Refectory. There, standing in a group, were three figures of authority: Mr. Hemlock, the imposing vice principal; Principal Blackwood, a man whose smile often hid a calculating mind; and Ms. LeFay, the head of the art department. Dolores remembered Ms. LeFay from the school assembly, where she'd answered the question about the founding fathers , earning a fleeting but appreciative nod from the usually stoic woman.

A hush fell over the Grand Refectory as Ms. LeFay, the head of the art department, gazed around. Her gaze, usually cool and reserved, seemed to soften slightly as it landed on Dolores. A hesitant smile, almost fleeting, played on her lips. Dolores recognized it – the same flicker of appreciation she'd received during the assembly. A small wave of pride washed over her, quickly followed by a pang of regret. Answering Ms. LeFay's question had indeed made a good impression, but it had also resulted in a broken nose, courtesy of Axel.

But, at least it got her a good impression.