a/n: surprise surprise look who's alive
( there may be typos and grammatical errors in this chapter so yeah )
Harley
( Present )
"So, how'd you manage to score that high in the entrance?"
There it is. That damn question once again. It's getting more than annoying now – it makes me mad. The accusatory tone that they try too hard to hide in the question has started to get on my nerves. I know about six students in this very room who've made it in this batch because of their parent's money. They're all rich kids here.
I hate them all.
Not because they're rich, but because the current third year batch is the most selfish one among the three, not even thinking twice before they trample over the weaker people.
"I've no reason to answer that, do I?" I reply with a smile. "Besides, I think you've all heard enough rumours about my score already. Go figure."
"You're such a cool dancer," says Marlene, clapping her hands together. "I mean, I don't really believe that you're self taught." A liar and a cheat is what you are, is what she wants to say but she doesn't. Her smile tells me that she's doubting me, making it easier to tell what she's thinking right now.
"And just what the hell happened to you?" asks Paris. My eyes move to her. She's probably one of the only students actually abiding by the school dress code. Her uniform is so neat and she's wearing no accessories at all. Most of the students give up on the accessory part on day three at Redville but she clearly did not. She's also a dance student, which is why I know her better than the other students sitting in the third year Melpomene classroom right now.
"What the hell happened to who?" Tasha Blackwell, member of the Summer's dance group, strolls and dumps her bag in front of my seat. Her gaze is cold as it flicks between Taysa and I. Well, she's impatient about her answers, that's for sure.
"Harley's not performing at the debut, right?" Paris reminds her.
Tasha's face relaxes. She nods, then sits on her seat. She pulls her out her phone, clearly not interested in the conversation here. "Oh, yeah. Whatever."
Paris turns back to me, beaming. "So?"
Before I can reply to her, someone comes up and puts their bag down on the seat next to mine – Asher's, actually – with a loud thud. I look up, finding a familiar face I've seen around in the past month. Brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair, a lanky build – he's Tanya Meer. I hear he was on friendly terms with Asher at one point but now, they're both just acquaintances and that's it.
"Stop crowding up around her, fuckfaces," he snaps at all the girls huddled around me. His voice takes an immediate effect on most of them, who back away a little to give me some space. He sits down, looks at me, then smiles. It isn't really genuine but I can't care less. "Harley, I'm not even going to ask why you're here right now."
"Right," Marlene whistles, her hands on my shoulders and I cringe. "If France would've shut her mouth for one moment, I'd have asked her that. But she didn't, because she can't."
"My name's Paris," she says in a sing-song voice, shrugging. "And you're the one asking her stuff. More than I am."
"Shut up, both of you," Tanya says lazily. "Give this girl some space. You know a lot of people are not going to be happy about it when they see you crowding up around her." He throws me a hard look. I'm tempted to ask what he's on about but think better of it anyway when I notice the way he's looking at me. It's like a spark of recognition behind his eyes that lasts only for a moment, one that makes a chill go down my spine in an instant. "You're waiting for Asher, aren't you?"
I smile. "I thought you weren't going to ask me why I'm here."
"Well, curiosity seems to have gotten a lot better for me, then." His words are formal but his tone is not. There is something way too familiar about it – it's like I know him from somewhere instead of just being aware of his existence and status as the guy who knows Asher.
Where have I seen him? Where have I met him? Does he remember me? Because if he knows and remembers me, then that's...
"I need to talk to him, yes," I say to him before I can let myself think further than that. I don't know how I manage to keep my composure in moments like these – or whether I actually manage to keep it.
He leans forward, still watching me. "About what?"
"None of your business."
"Ooh, intense," Marlene sings, clapping her hands. Despite her sweet voice, I can tell how hostile she's actually being and how much she's trying to hide that. She rests her palms on my table, leaning closer to my face, forcing me to tear my gaze from Tanya to her. "Sorry for being a little straightforward with you here, Harley, but even if you're a first ranker, you can't barge into a third year classroom and sit in the class president's place."
My lips quirk upwards as I continue to hold her gaze. There's no way I'm backing out of this silent staring competition that others present in the class have taken an interest in. They're surrounding her, whispering and watching us. She was talking like an angel a moment ago and now she's flipped. Fucking bitch.
She blinks. I slump back. "I'm here, ain't I?"
She scoffs, ready to say something when Tasha turns to face us, her eyes flicking between the two of us. She tucks a strand of her black hair behind her ear, sighing. Now that I look at her, I see how tired she looks. Dark circles under her eyes, drowsiness evident on her face. But then again, I suppose that's common here.
"Marlene, if you've got nothing better to do than pick on a fifteen year old–"
"I'm sixteen," I chime in.
Tasha rolls her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. "If you've got nothing better to do than look down on a sixteen year old girl, who, by the way, is way more smarter than you are, then you should probably reconsider your entire life and drop out or something."
Paris snorts. Tasha turns back. Marlene's eyes fall on me again. She is about to snap when Tanya reaches for her wrist, tugging her. It's as if she's either back to her senses or there's a telepathic conversation going on between them because she turns around, looking over to her shoulders to stand the one and only, student council president, Asher fucking Hale standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches the commotion with so much interest that it surprises me.
For a moment, no one says a thing. Or least, I think no one does. Asher and I are looking at each other, both of us knowing exactly why I'm here but neither of us wanting to bring up the topic first. But being the more sensible person here, I flash a wide grin his way.
"You wouldn't pick up your calls, Hale, so I thought I'd just be here first thing today." He lets out a laugh, taking a step inside. "You didn't want to talk about this over the phone, did you?"
He shrugs. Walking over to his place, he stands right in front of me, looking down at me like I'm the most stupid creature he has ever come across. He drops his bag, then says, "And you were right." He looks around us, gesturing everyone around us to walk away. Tanya's gaze is still set on me but I ignore the slight panic I feel.
He knows me. He knows me. He knows me. He knows me.
But I don't think I do.
"Come with me, Harley," Asher says to me. "We need to talk."
I don't even think before getting up and following him out of the class, ignoring everyone who's speculating and talking behind our backs. But before I'm out of the class, I look over my shoulder one more time, finding Tanya's gaze still burning into me. Our eyes meet for a moment and I feel nothing but the fear of being known here.
Rumours, I can deal with those. But someone knowing who the fuck I am and why I'm here? Well, that's the worst damn miscalculation I can ever make.
"Student council, Asher? Really?"
We're on the roof now. It didn't take us long to get away from the crowd in his class considering they're all more or less scared of him. If not scared, they're definitely intimidated by him. Asher asked me to follow him and led me to the roof, unlocking the door and gesturing for me to enter. It took a while to adjust to the lighting and a little while for us to finally begin talking.
That's why we're leaning at the rail as the late students rush inside the school. The roll call takes place half way through the homeroom so we've got about twenty minutes to get this sorted out. Due to the events taking place this next month, there's now a new academic time table. It's a half day schedule and the rest of the time, it's all practice.
Practice where I only observe others practice, I remind myself but quickly brush the thought away when I feel the familiar pang of a feeling I can't put words to increase. I'm still scared of the fact that I might actually be loving dance by now. It's terrifying to even think of it because all that love would just be a hindrance in what I'm here to do.
"You're on the council, Harley." He says it like he has any say in it. He can't force me to be a council member. He can't do anything just because he says so. People like him make annoyance crawl under my skin. They're all pests with an everlasting ego. "All you've got to do is fill the form."
"I'm not filling the form," I tell him. The cold metal of the rail burns into my skin and for a moment, I imagine myself as someone else, falling down and dying with my brain spilling out on impact. "I refused to be the representative of my own class. What makes you think that I'd be okay with the idea of being on the council?"
"No one else would refuse this opportunity," he reminds me.
He's wrong. "I know I'm not the only person who didn't apply to the council because they just aren't interested in your crap."
"So what you're asking is why I want you on the council?"
"I'm glad you finally realised that."
He lets out a sigh and turns, leaning his back against the rail. His eyes rest on me, meeting mine just a moment later. They're dead serious and judging by his body language, I just know that whatever he's going to say is not going to be a lie. They might not be the truth either, but they're not lies. Half truths, you might call them.
"We got a lot of applications from the first years." He runs a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Half of them are losers. Absolute goddamn jokes. Then there are people who are okay in academics but terrible in decision making. Then there are those wannabe cool guys and girls who want to gain popularity by being on the council."
"Being close to you and Nate, you mean?" I ask.
He smiles. "Yeah. That. So, after going through most applications, we've only finalised one member. Ana Virginia something–"
"It's Ana Vorklov, Asher." I can't help but let out a small laugh at that.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you know she could've been the first ranker if it weren't for you? Rhett was just a chance, you know. A fluke. That guy? He's all cram. But Ana? She's genuinely smart." He pauses. "But she's the only one who we've all agreed on till now. Everyone wants you on the council as well. We took a vote for it. All you've got to do now is fill the form."
"Vote?" I echo. "What's with you guys and votes? First the Primas – who vote me out, by the way, and then there's you and your council crap voting me in. Are you telling me that my dance is worse than whatever academic decision making crap I need for the council?"
"The council and the Primas are not related in any way," he points out.
A dry laugh escapes my lips. "Really, Asher? Because you're close with all the Primas. Five members of the council are like in the core committee of the whole, you know, council thing. Excuse me if I'm not convinced by what you say."
"You have a point there, Harley but I'm not kidding here. There's no way in hell that I'm putting some worthless piece of shit on the council."
"Weren't you the one who said that my admission is only because I paid them all off to increase my rank?"
He pauses for a second and in that moment, something flashes across his expression. Something that tells me everything I've thought about this is right and that I'm cornered already but I want him to do it. I want him to admit what he's going to because if he doesn't, I'll be more than just disappointed in him. He can't possibly have an ego that large.
"I was wrong." He shrugs as if it's no big deal that he's admitting this. That he's looking me in my eyes and admitting that he was wrong and that my score is mine to keep. "I was wrong about your score, alright? And don't give me that bullshit that you can't lead and crap because the council doesn't require that from you. Are you in?"
"I'm not," I say to him.
He lifts himself up and stands straighter, turning towards the other side. "Remember Summer's birthday? We had a bet. We drank. I won."
I know exactly where this is going. I nod. "So, you're calling in that favour right now?"
He smiles. "You're smart."
"Are you sure that this is how you want this to go?"
"Positive. It's a favour. I'm calling that right now."
I watch him for a second. I want him to take it back but he doesn't and I realise that maybe, just maybe Asher isn't as smart as I gave him credit for. So, I nod. I silently agree to this even though I have no idea what I'll have to do and he grins, eyes shining.
"You in, then?" He asks.
"I don't go back on my word," I remind him. "Send me the form."
He extends his hands to me and I shake it. Unspoken words weigh in the air – questions about how this is going to end up and just how bad things might get. The two of us shouldn't be together in anything. That's something Elia wrote. That's something Kyle said. That's why I'm enjoying this so much. Even though I'm tired with all of this, the adrenaline sometimes makes up for it.
With the way things are progressing, I can't wait to see how this ends.
Sam
( Present )
I'm bunking again.
I know I've been doing it a lot lately but I'm not as dumb as people think I am. I'll get more than the mandatory attendance if I'm careful enough, which, by the way, I am.
Standing on the rooftop of the dance studio building, I stare out at the main building, students still making their way in. They were supposed to be there fifteen minutes ago so they're probably gonna get a scolding for it. I can see some of the students also sneaking around campus. The teachers don't really care about how much you attend the classes. You start to care when the instant fear grips you out of nowhere. About the grades, well, the ranking list makes you care for them.
I grab my bag and walk out, leaving the door to be closed behind me. I make my way to the lowest floor, the woman behind the counter giving me a sharp look before I enter one of the rooms that the first years use for their practice. It's spacious and clean like always but I'm not alone here like I expected to be. A girl – brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair – stands in front of the mirror, her hands extended outwards as she attempts to correct her posture.
She's Zia Ahmed. I've talked to her a total of two times. We were in the same evaluation group with Harley, Remi, Zed and Line. The only person I still talk to without it feeling like it's a chore is Harley. I don't think she is particularly interested in talking to me but then again, she helps me with my homework.
I drop my bag in the corner as quietly as I can but it catches her attention. Her posture relaxes and she turns to me, eyeing me for a minute before flashing a small smile.
I smile back. "Don't mind me, I won't disturb you."
She just nods. Looking away, I open my phone for no particular reason but end up checking my texts. There's a few from Freva, one from Kai, one from Harley and another from Line. I only open Line's text because it's on the top and besides, she's the one who's most probably gotta deal with the teacher when he asks where I am again.
Line: dude, you're bunking again? kenna seems pissed off rn.
Sam: not my problem she's pissed tho
Line: you sure you're not attending any classes today? we only have two anyways. just come on, man.
Sam: no, thanks. i've to practice.
Line: you do realise you're already one of the best in the debut choreo right
Sam: i can always get better
Line: why do i even bother with you
Line: alright see ya
Sam: see ya
I'm closing my phone when someone snatches it away from me. I don't even have to look up to see who it is and when I do, I'm staring at a face with the most crooked and annoying grin ever. Remi Lorenzo would've almost seemed handsome to me if he didn't have a shit personality. We're only a month in and he has successfully dropped to the lower ranks and gained the reputation of the school bully.
"What do you want?" I ask, annoyed.
"Who're you talking to?" he asks, his grin widening. He opens my phone but it's locked. "What's the password to your phone?"
"Ain't no way I'm telling you that." I take a step towards him. "Give it back."
"Or what?" he snaps back. He looks up, looking me dead into my eyes. "You gonna go cry to your brother? Give me your password, man, it's not like I'm gonna find something illegal here."
I look behind him. He's not alone. Loreno Diaz, Carrie Everett, and a bunch of second years stand behind him. The second years are mostly distracted and engaged in a conversation of their own, occasionally throwing a dull look my way. I recognise a few them – and I just know they're all shitheads.
"Well?" Remi raises his eyebrow. "The password?"
I take a step forward, trying to reach for my phone but he simply chuckles, hiding the phone behind his back. The smirk on his face is pissing me off more than ever.
"Remi," I begin. "I might as well break your fucking face this time. Would you like that? We've our debut on friday, dumbfuck, so be careful with whatever the fuck you do." My lips quirk upward even though this is probably the worst time to be smiling. "Unless you want to look more ugly than you are now."
His smile never falters. "I think that applies to you as well, Andrews."
"Give my phone back to me, will you?" I mutter. I'm getting more annoyed second by second. The second years are getting more interested in this conversation as well.
Carrie Everett laughs, shaking her head. I've never really liked her. I wouldn't have liked her even if she wasn't Remi's friend.
"You're a fucking loser, you know that?" she says. "What's on that phone that you like so much?"
Right then, I hear a familiar text notification. Carrie's eyes dart towards the phone and a smirk flashes across her lips. She lunges forward, grabbing the phone from Remi and clicking the power button to see the home screen, where the notification will be.
"You fucking idiots–" I snap but Remi grabs the neck of my t-shirt firmly, holding my still. He forces an eye contact with me and I can read him so fucking clearly in this moment. Something is flashing behind his eyes – the very same thing that flashes behind Nate's.
Both of these assholes – they're fucking enjoying whatever the fuck this is and there is nothing that makes me more mad.
"You touch her, you die," Remi spat. His voice is dangerously low but it does nothing to falter me in any way.
I smile. "You both dating or something?" I break free by simply taking a back. Remi still doesn't move. "I mean, I guess you both deserve each other. Your personalities complement each other."
"Does it, now?"
"It's an unknown number," Carrie sings, a playful smile on her lips as she backs away. "Hey, Sammy. I know we haven't talked in a while but don't you think it's time we finally meet up again?"
Confusion takes over me. Desperation accompanies. Just who could be writing that to me? I have no idea. It sounds like I've gotten a date. I mean, not exactly, but judging by their expressions, I just know that's exactly what they think.
"God, now I just need the password to that phone, man," one of the second years, Jase, says. He strolls towards Carrie, takes the phone, stares at the screen before closing his eyes trying to think of a guess. When nothing comes to him, he turns to the other two guys, who seem like his minions, who just snicker and shrug.
"Right?" Carrie exclaims. Her voice is the screechiest thing ever, hurting my ears. I'd go and straight up take my phone but Remi's here. The last thing I want to do is start a physical fight with these people and face the consequences right before the debut.
Remi leans forward. "Seems like there's some juicy stuff on there, huh?"
"Whatever," Loreno Diaz finally speaks up. Her face holds an annoyed expression. She seems so done with the situation. "We all know you've got porn on your phone as well, Rem. Just give his' back, won't you?"
Carrie rolls her eyes. "Why is she here again?" she pouts. "Fucking ruining the fun all the time."
Loreno sighs but doesn't reply. Jase looks at her, his expression quizzical.
"Since when are you such a spoilsport?" he asks her. "I know for a fact that you were a fun person when you arrived at the academy, that's the only reason you're standing here right now."
"By fun, do you mean a bully?" I snort.
Remi glares at me.
"C'mon, it's only been a month since the school's begun, Jase," says one of his minions. "She can always be kicked out of the group."
"Yeah, well, that's true." Jase looks at Remi. "Let's wrap this up quickly. You wanna get back on the threat he gave you, Rem?"
"'I might as well break your face this time'," Remi mimics. "You want me to do that to you?"
"I—"
"What's going on here?" Andy's voice cuts through the tense atmosphere. Everything stops for a split second. My eyes move to the door where he stands, a neutral expression on his face. I look to his stands where Zia stands and my heart skips a beat – did she call him here? I don't even know when she left the room. By the looks on the others' faces, I don't think they did, either.
Her eyes meet mine for a second and she quickly looks away, taking a few steps backward and disappearing in the hallway. I can feel Andy's gaze on us as he repeats his question, this time asking me directly.
All eyes in the room end up on me. The warning glares, the nonchalant, yet pleading looks they are throwing my way are ridiculous. If this was middle school, I'd have complained and told Andy the truth. But this is Redville. I know better than to do that, thanks to my brother.
So, I shake my head. "No," I say, "nothing's happening."
"You sure?" He raises a brow. Last chance, his expression says, I can't help you if you don't let me. I just nod once and he lets out a sigh. If that's what you want, his face says.
"All of you, out of this room if you're not here to practice. And if you're not a dance student, I'd appreciate it if you get out of this studio now." It was as if Andy just knew that Jase was going to talk back. Andy throws him a warning glance and Jase's shoulders slump. Yeah, he's not saying anything anymore.
Andy waits till everyone is out of the room. Remi and Carrie go as well even though they could've stayed. Maybe they prefer bunking over classes and their program. Their ranks are too far down for them to care anyways.
"See you later," Remi says to me with a smile. "Sam."
I flash a smile of my own. I look at Carrie—she had already been looking at me. She rolls her eyes and throws my phone back to me. I catch it with ease and smile at her again.
Once everyone is out, Andy sets his eyes on me. His gaze is so intense that I almost shudder. "What?" I shrug. "Did I do something wrong?"
Andy sighs, shaking his head. "I can't tell you that." He takes a step backwards. "You better know what you're doing, Samuel. Good luck for Friday."
I don't even have the time to respond to him before he walks away. I let out a sigh, knowing that I wouldn't know what to say to that even if he did wait for me to speak up. I open my phone, remembering the text I'd gotten. There are two more texts from the same number now. I look at it over and over again but have no idea who it belongs to. It doesn't look familiar to me at all.
"Fuck it," I mutter before opening it.
Unknown: Hey, Sammy. I know we haven't talked in a while but don't you think it's time we finally meet up again?
Unknown: It's been years. I can finally see you again.
Unknown: That is, if you let me.
My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion. I type up a reply.
Sam: who's this?
I didn't expect the person to give me an instant reply but the seen shows up, followed by a typing mark. It disappears for a moment before three new messages pop back up and my blood runs cold.
Unknown: Tristan Andrews.
Unknown: Your father.
Unknown: I'm back, and I want to be a father to you. Please give me a second chance.
A second chance?
author's note: i am so sorry for disappearing i've been on a writer's block & this chapter itself took me months to write. i hope i'm back on track now but let's see how things work out since my exams are going to start soon (again) and i'll be busy catching up with all my homework and classwork since i'm a dumbass and keep everything piled up till the last moment. okay anyways, i promise i won't exactly disappear anymore.
if you want, you can go follow my instagram ( @/vcmpyres ),, i'll be more active there.
if you're still reading this, thank you for sticking around and here's a hint of what's gonna happen next: some serious shit's going to go down.
also, question: what's your favourite ship of amber eyes?