"You may speak."
Isla and Elias had been summoned to the headmaster's office to share progress on their tutoring sessions. With everything else going on, the boy almost forgot that this whole mess between them had started with having to master the bloody French language.
"We've kept the rigorous sessions each week, as was your wish," Isla started, her voice sounding so sweet and polite that Elias couldn't help but do a double take. The headmaster knew nothing of the demon in her. "We've also established our own rules and have been quite cordial." She turned to him. "Don't you agree?"
Cordial in the sessions, not so much anywhere else.
"Abso-bloody-lutely," Elias gave a shining grin.
The headmaster raised his brows. "That's good news." Pause. "Any other of your mishaps I should be aware of?"
"No," both of them said sternly.
"Very well." He opened one of his cabinets underneath his desk and pulled out a thick folder, ruffling through its pages. Bloody hell—"Mr. Sabatier," the man addressed, and his heart skipped a beat, "your file states that your recent marks in the French Language has seemingly improved. But not in the way I desire." Then he looked straight at Isla. "Miss Kingsley, I suggest you brush up your methods."
The embarrassment of Isla seeing his folder was instantly washed away by the headmaster's redirection of blame. She was taking the fall for this? Elias couldn't pretend he wasn't shocked, especially since he was used to the man's reprimanding.
"I—" She stopped her protest, having a staring match with the headmaster. Did he miss something? "You're absolutely right. It's done."
When they walked out of his office, he couldn't help it.
"Did you make a deal with the devil there or what?"
Isla whipped her head at him, already opening her mouth to retort, but decided to keep it shut at the last minute.
"What? You're just going to ignore me forever?"
"Quite possibly."
"You're talking to me right now."
She opened her mouth for a retort, but realised the truth in his words. She flipped him the two-finger sign instead. Elias cackled.
"Oh, so we're going for childish routines now? You hurt me so, so badly."
"Babe!"
That was definitely not Isla.
The two rivals stopped at their tracks, meeting the same view in front of them: Blair sauntering in with all her Bradshaw glory, purse on her elbow like a weapon she was ready to throw. She stopped next to him and linked her arm around his waist as a sign of superiority. Elias blinked for a second before immediately playing into his role, slinging an arm on her shoulder.
"Hey, babe," he grinned.
Blair was an astounding actress. Indeed, it might be because she was attracted to him, but, well... anything to bring the cards on the table.
The raven-haired girl cocked her head. "Isabel, right?"
"Isla," she corrected, a tight smile on her face. "We've met, Blair."
Wait, what?
"And when did I miss this special occasion?" he brought up casually, even though he was burning with interest. What were the odds that Isla Kingsley and Blair Bradshaw had already met? They were basically on two opposite sides of the spectrum.
"She bumped into me in the hallway, darling. Nothing important."
Isla looked at her for a while—maybe stared was the right word—with... disbelief. "As she said."
Okay?
Just then, a group of underclassmen walked past them. The chatter turned into hushes when they saw Elias, Isla and Blair in close proximity, like they were waiting for someone to start a row with a punch-up real soon. One of them was gripping her phone.
"Take a bloody picture while you're at it," Isla snapped.
The students went for a run. Elias actually strained a laugh.
Blair gasped. "That's so rude of you, Isla. Especially to our juniors. What've you got your knickers in a twist?"
He had to admit that it was interesting to see the two interact, as he was standing right between them. How Blair was shorter than her but held more intimidation, while Isla was almost to his own height but battled the other girl with confidence. How they were both vocal, but Blair's tone was sharp while Isla's was more fierce. How the first was all dark and gleaming, while the latter was light and natural.
Wait. Why was he comparing them in the first place?
"I'm terrific, actually," Isla retorted, making Elias blink back to reality.
"You don't sound terrific—"
"I didn't know you cared so much, Blair."
Isla's quick-witted response and the crossing of her arms was the last straw for Elias to bark out a laugh. Both girls turned to him in surprise. Shite.
He was even surprised.
Blair glared at him and whipped at her, "don't you have somewhere better to be? Like, I don't know, tutoring or community service or God knows what you do in your free time? You know, if you have one of those?"
She gave a tight smile. "Right. Cheerio, then."
"Don't miss me too much!" he called.
Another silent treatment.
Isla walked away to the end of the hallway where a familiar someone was waiting for her. He squinted. Zélia. He still couldn't believe they even knew each other, much less be friends—he didn't even talk much with the Frenchie. Girl world for Elias apparently meant that everyone was familiar with everyone.
"Are you listening to me?"
He blinked at Blair. "What?"
"Were you staring at her bum?"
Jesus Christ. Today was not his day.
—
It was late at night for the students at Belfort Academy, but not too late for Elias to forget the open-ended question he'd posed earlier. And frankly, he wasn't the kind to sleep well on inconclusive answers.
He knocked on the slightly opened door. "Hey."
Nolan Parrish looked up from his laptop. "Alright, mate?"
"Yeah, alright. Am I disturbing you?"
"Oh, totally, I was busy wanking."
"Piss off," Elias chuckled. Not only did they share the same house, but Nolan's room was in the same hallway as his, so it was a force of habit that he greeted his friend like this; whether it was late homework, drinking shenanigans, or... special inquiries. "Anyway, I was just wondering, you know... a tad bit intrigued or whatever you call it—"
"Okay?"
"—not that I'm obsessed, but sometimes curiosity tickles the cat or whatever—"
"Elias, spit it out."
He shut his mouth. "Have you might known anything about what Isla Kingsley's got to do with the headmaster? Anyone who'd know would be you."
Nolan laid back on his rolling chair, not denying his friend's statement. "No idea, actually."
"Serious?"
"Yeah. Why?"
Elias shrugged because it wasn't a big deal, but he was a bit disappointed. "Just seemed like they had unfinished business."
The other boy shrugged. "Well, even if they do, doesn't seem like your business, mate."
"Ah, there he is." He spread his hands to him. "The moral police." It was true that, between small circle, Nolan was the one who had the better moral compass than the other two.
Nolan rolled his eyes. "I was just saying. Also, can I ask you a serious question?"
"Shoot."
"Have you ever thought of why you hate Isla so much?"
"I don't quite understand this question." Nolan gave him a c'mon look. "I've mentioned this to Charles before. She's rude, arrogant, a smart-arse, has a terrible temper—"
"You've based that on meetings you can count on one finger," he raised his brows. "You're usually always one to oversimplify things. Maybe things aren't that simple this time."
Elias stared at him in shock. "Are you defending her?"
"I'm trying to give you a penny for my thoughts. There might be a different perspective in all of this... that's what I've observed, at least," he added when he saw Elias about to comment again. "And since you've gone all offensive, mate, then there's no way Isla's going to hold back."
He heard his friend's words loud and clear.
Bloody think about this.
But he certainly learned, later that week, that he should've listened to Nolan Parrish after all.
A/N: For those curious about the UK education system: Year 10 (freshman), Year 11 (sophomore), Year 12 (junior), Year 13 (senior.)
Year 12-13: Sixth Form, aka their last two years of high school.
Isla, Amber, Zélia [17] are in their first year (Year 12); Elias, Charles, Nolan, Blair and Sofia [18] are in their second year (Year 13).