Strings of Fate: The First Loop

CHAPTER 50 - THE PHOENIX DESTROYS, NOT SAVES

The room had gone quiet. I didn’t look up.

Mr. Oxford entered. Clipboard in hand. He paused for a second, eyes on me, then started taking attendance.

“Amador?”

“Here.”

“Delos Reyes?”

“Present.”

“Fernandez?”

No answer.

The fan spun above us, clicking every third rotation. The smell of floor wax lingered from the hallway. I stared ahead. No one said hi. I looked out the window. A crow flew across the sky, wings beating unevenly. It landed on the broken part of the school fence. It stayed there. Watching.

At lunch the cafeteria reeked of fried oil and sweat. Trays clattered. Chairs scraped. A soda machine hissed and clicked near the wall. I sat alone at the corner table, leftmost row, beside the dusty electric fan that only worked when it wanted to. My tray had spaghetti, a slice of cold garlic bread, and water. The bread was soggy. I twisted my fork into the noodles, round and round, until the tines bent slightly.

Across the room, I could see them. Tim. Drake. Corey. James. They laughed about something. Then someone nudged James. He looked over.

At me.

My fork twisted tighter in my grip. There it was again, that impulse. To stand. Flip the table. Launch the entire tray at him. Watch it crash into his chest. Let the orange sauce stain his stupid face. Inez slid into the seat across from me, tray in hand, as if summoned by my rage.

“Betty.” Her voice was lighter than the air. “That hair.”

I didn’t answer.

She leaned closer, took a bite of her burger, and blinked at me. “You look like a teenage apocalypse. In a good way.”

“Thanks,” I muttered.

“Did you… get highlights?”

“Platinum.”

“Oof. Expensive rebellion.”

I stared at her. She grinned at my silence.

“Is that cardigan from that alt store at the second floor of the mall?” she asked.

I nodded once.

“Your eyeliner’s intense. I feel like it could cut me if I blink wrong.”

“That’s the point.”

Inez tilted her head. “Okay. So, we’re going full dark phoenix now. I can vibe with that. But uh… just one thing.”

“What.”

“You’re gripping that fork like you’re about to stab someone.”

I looked down. My knuckles were white. The fork had left an imprint on my palm. Across the room, James was still watching. Or maybe not. I didn’t care.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Sure,” Inez replied, but her tone was softer now. Like she knew I wasn’t.

I glanced again. James. His brows were furrowed. His mouth... pressed into that unsure line he wore when he didn’t know whether to speak or disappear. He looked sad. Worried. Confused. Like he didn’t understand what he did. That made it worse.

What did he expect? That I’d melt at the sight of his guilt?

The room was too loud. Too filled with the sound of his silence. I stood up. My chair scraped backward, a screech that made the nearby table flinch. I grabbed my tray, tossed the fork onto it with a hard clink, and turned. Then, impact.