The cafeteria buzzed with its usual chatter until Patricia's voice split through the air like glass shattering.
"You conniving bitch!" she screamed, her tray clattering onto the table as she stormed toward Camella.
Heads turned. A hush rippled through the crowd, followed by excited whispers.
Camella didn't flinch. She sat back with her milk carton in hand, lips curling into a mocking smirk as Patricia yanked her by the hair.
"How could you do this to me?" Patricia's eyes blazed, hot with betrayal. Her nails dug into Camella's scalp, shaking her violently. "I trusted you! I thought you were my friend!"
Camella's laugh was cold and sharp. "Friend? Patricia, you don't have friends. You have puppets." She pried Patricia's hand off with unnerving calm. "I just decided I didn't want to be one anymore."
The words sliced deeper than any slap. Patricia's chest heaved, fury boiling inside her. "You snake! All this time, pretending—" Her voice cracked with rage. "You've always been jealous. Always!"
Gasps and cheers echoed as Patricia lunged again, sending trays and drinks crashing to the floor. Camella shoved back, and the cafeteria erupted into chaos—students climbing onto benches to get a better view, others chanting *"Fight! Fight!"* like it was entertainment.
Patricia's palm cracked across Camella's cheek. Camella retaliated with a shove that nearly knocked Patricia into a table.
"Holy shit," Damon muttered as he and Xavier stepped into the cafeteria, catching the scene first. His grin spread wide. "Now *this* is what I call lunch entertainment."
"Damon," Xavier snapped, though his eyes lingered on the fight, sharp with interest.
By then, Kamsi and Gilbert had pushed their way in too, their expressions frozen between disbelief and worry. Zeliah trailed behind, her hands covering her mouth.
"Oh no…" Kamsi whispered.
Across the room, Alexander froze. His face drained of color as he realized who was involved. "Oh God, Patricia…"
"Bro," Damon chuckled, elbowing him. "You might wanna leash your stepsis before she kills someone."
With a weary sigh, Alexander shoved through the crowd and caught Patricia from behind, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Enough, Pat! Stop!"
She kicked wildly, nails clawing for Camella. In her frenzy, her heel struck Alexander square between the legs.
"Argh—shit!" Alexander crumpled, clutching his groin as laughter roared from Damon and even Gilbert, who tried—and failed—to hold it in.
"You good, man?" Damon howled, tears in his eyes. "She's ruthless!"
Patricia broke free again, lunging for Camella, when a voice like a whip cracked through the air.
"ENOUGH!"
The cafeteria fell silent instantly. The counselor stood at the doorway, her glare sharp enough to pin both girls in place.
"You two. My office. Now." Her tone brooked no argument. "Unless you'd rather explain yourselves to the principal in front of your parents."
The crowd's energy fizzled into dead quiet. Patricia's chest rose and fell like a storm contained, while Camella smoothed her hair, feigning composure though her cheek still burned red.
Alexander groaned from the floor, muttering under his breath, "She's going to be the death of me…"
Kamsi pressed her lips together, torn between pity and laughter, while Damon slapped his knee, still wheezing.
And with the counselor's glare sweeping the room, everyone scattered, leaving Patricia and Camella glaring daggers as they were marched away.
The office smelled faintly of chalk and burnt coffee, the ceiling fan whirring lazily above as Miss Caramel folded her arms and leveled the two girls with a weary look.
"Not you two again," she sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "What is it this time?"
Neither Patricia nor Camella spoke. They sat rigid in the hard chairs, eyes locked on each other, lips sealed like the walls themselves might overhear.
Miss Caramel waited, tapping her pen against the desk. When silence stretched too long, she shook her head. "Fine. If you won't talk, you'll both serve detention. And I swear—if this happens again, you'll be explaining yourselves to the principal. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, ma'am," the girls muttered in unison, though the venom in their tones wasn't for her.
Miss Caramel hesitated, eyeing them one last time before picking up the phone on her desk. "I'll be right outside making a call. Don't move." She stepped into the hallway, the door clicking shut behind her.
The moment she was gone, the silence shattered.
"I always knew you were a wannabe," Patricia sneered, leaning forward, her nails digging crescents into her palm. "But a betrayer? That I didn't see coming. The first time, I forgave you. Thought it was just you slipping. But now? Now I see the real you."
Camella's smirk twitched, brittle at the edges. "Please. Spare me. Under all that queen-bee act is just a sad, lonely little girl who can't stand sharing her mom's attention." Her voice softened to a knife's edge. "Isn't that why you're so against her being with Alexander's dad? Because deep down you're terrified she might finally be happy—and that would leave you with nothing but your own insecurities."
The words struck like a slap. Patricia's chest tightened, but she forced a laugh, sharp and cold. "At least I still have a mom. Unlike someone."
Camella's face faltered—her smirk dropping, her jaw tightening as though she'd been punched in the stomach.
Patricia pressed on, voice rising, anger masking guilt. "Deny it all you want, but I made you. You'd still be that broken little girl if it wasn't for me. The one who—" she hesitated, but the cruelty surged forward anyway, "—the one who caused her parents' death."
The air thickened. Camella's mask shattered completely, her eyes glistening though she refused to blink. The sting of old guilt—one she buried, one Patricia had just ripped open—sat heavy in the room.
For a heartbeat, Patricia felt it too: the weight of her words, the ugliness of the truth she'd thrown like a blade. Guilt crawled up her throat, but pride shoved it back down.
Without another glance, she pushed up from her chair, fists trembling though she kept her chin high, and stormed out of the office.
Camella sat frozen, her nails digging half-moons into her skin, her chest heaving as she fought the tears that threatened. Alone now, the silence pressed in, and for the first time, her smirk was gone—just a hollow ache where it had lived.