Chapter 9: Fractures and Facades
The bell echoed across the tall walls of Astra High, its sharp tone slicing through the muted chatter of students, announcing lunch break. Chairs scraped across the tiled floors as conversations erupted and footsteps echoed through the hallways.
In Class E, Paul stood beside his desk, his eyes following the figure of Prisca as she slung her bag over her shoulder. The mood between them had been strange lately—he could feel it. So many unspoken words, so much distance.
"Prisca," he called softly, approaching her just as she turned toward the door.
She paused, half her face cast in shadow from the fading morning light.
"Do you have any plans for lunch?" he asked, voice steady.
Prisca turned to look at him, her expression unreadable. Her lips parted slowly, voice low but sharp. "What's this change of attitude of yours?"
Paul kept his tone even, calm. "I'm just asking as a friend."
She scoffed bitterly, her eyes narrowing. "I never considered you as a friend, Paul."
That stung. But he didn't flinch.
"I know you're hurt… after the news about your cousin. You've been… different in class," he said. "You don't talk. You don't smile. You act like a ghost is walking with you. All I'm saying is, maybe clear your head a little. Just step out for a while. I assure you, your sister—Crystal—is safe."
Prisca stared at him for a long moment, silence folding between them like a wall. Then she blinked slowly and muttered, "Fine… and besides, Crystal was never my sister."
Before Paul could respond, she turned and began walking briskly toward the hallway.
"To the cafeteria?" he asked.
Prisca paused. "Yes. The cafeteria."
They walked side by side, the hallway bustling with students. But between them, it felt like a void—quiet, uncertain, fragile.
As they entered the cafeteria, two students abruptly stood and left, abandoning a clean table near the window. Paul glanced at the seat, then at Prisca.
"Let's sit there," he suggested.
Prisca nodded without speaking.
They sat. A moment passed.
Paul, careful with his words, asked gently, "Do you… miss her? Crystal, I mean?"
Prisca kept her eyes on her tray. "Next question."
Paul tried again. "Did you and Crystal fight before she went missing?"
She clenched her jaw but didn't answer.
"Prisca…" he continued cautiously, "Why did you say she wasn't your sister?"
Before she could speak, a cheerful voice interrupted.
"Hello, Paul! How are you doing?"
It was Naomi, her tone bright, her smile shining as she approached the table. Paul just nodded. Naomi's eyes drifted to Prisca.
"Oh my God, Prisca! I didn't know you'd be here. How are you doing? Can I sit?"
Paul nodded instinctively. Prisca, however, stood immediately, her tray untouched.
"I'm leaving," she said flatly.
Naomi's smile faltered. "Why? We just got here."
Prisca's eyes sharpened like daggers, locking onto Paul. "What are you both up to?"
Paul swallowed. "Prisca, I—"
"I knew this was a setup," she snapped. Her tone was colder than before, sharper.
Paul exhaled. "Yes… I did set this up. I just wanted—"
Naomi jumped in eagerly. "So I could be your friend! Your best friend even. I wanted to—"
Prisca cut her off. "I never needed your friendship. Maybe it's because of your friendship that Crystal went missing in the first place. I never trusted you."
Paul stood and reached for her shoulder. "Prisca, calm down—"
She yanked her shoulder away and stared them both down.
"I knew this was a setup. You want to know how? We just got to lunch. The two students who left the table were waiting for us—they left too early. I saw you both whispering before class, planning something."
Then without another word, she walked away.
Paul sighed heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. Naomi looked hurt but tried to smile.
"I'm sorry," Paul said. "I can't help your dream of becoming her friend."
Naomi's voice was quiet. "It's alright."
The cafeteria faded behind them as the afternoon wore on. By evening, Paul and Naomi were walking together outside, through the quiet school garden. The sun dipped behind the buildings, casting a warm orange hue on the pathway.
Paul was thoughtful, watching Naomi wave at students passing by. A girl in prefect uniform passed, and Naomi waved at her too. The prefect smiled and waved back before walking off.
Paul raised a brow. "Isn't that a prefect?"
Naomi nodded. "Yeah. Just met her last week. She's pretty fun."
Paul whistled slightly. "You really do know a lot of people."
Naomi stopped and turned to him. Her voice lowered. "When I was little… I never had friends. My parents were strict. We were poor. I wasn't allowed to talk to other kids. But I always wanted to have people around me. To laugh with. Cry with. It made me feel… alive."
She stepped closer.
Paul blinked. "You're… kinda close."
She didn't move back. Instead, she gently cupped his cheek. "Paul, can you help me make that dream come true?"
Paul stared into her eyes, uncertain. His instincts flared.
"You're up to something," he said quietly.
Naomi blinked, confused. "Meaning?"
Paul's voice was low, cautious. "This is all part of some bigger plan. You're not here to make friends… but to lose them."
Naomi laughed suddenly, her voice sharp like glass. "I never knew you were that foolish."
She turned, walking away.
Paul stood there, alone under the fading light.
"She's hiding something," he whispered.
---
The Next Day
The morning air was thick with tension as Paul walked up the stairs of Astra High. Students rushed past him, their voices frantic.
He approached Class E and immediately felt it.
The noise. The panic. The fear.
Students were standing, whispering in groups. Others sat, heads down. Something was wrong.
Paul walked to his seat, calm.
Felix rushed to him. "Paul! Aren't you afraid?"
Paul raised a brow. "Afraid of what?"
Felix looked horrified. "Cain Voss! He got in a fight—with seniors from Class B. One of them almost died! Now the entire school is blaming Class E. The teachers, the prefects, the Holy Ones! They're planning on expelling the entire class!"
Paul remained seated, unpacking his books. "Okay."
Felix gaped. "OKAY?! This is a disgrace! A stain on your record! Your family, your life—"
Paul looked at him. "Every problem has a solution."
Just then, the door swung open. Elvara—the class E head teacher —walked in. Her face was stone cold.
"This… is a disgrace to the school," she said, voice sharp. "A junior fighting a senior? Nearly killing them? Disgraceful."
The teacher walked in next. "Cain Voss."
The classroom tensed. Cain entered, shoulders squared, but his face told a different story—frustration, pain, confusion.
Students began to throw paper and snacks at him. One tossed a pen that hit him in the jaw. Cain didn't flinch.
"I was framed!" he shouted. "I swear, I didn't—"
Before he could finish, the teacher twisted him to the ground in a swift, almost martial-arts-like move.
"I think this," she hissed, "will be the end of Class E."
A hush fell over the class.
Then—Paul raised his hand.
Everyone turned.
The teacher blinked. "Yes, Paul?"
Paul stood. His voice was steady. "I would like to carry this appeal to the school court."
The entire class gasped. Even Cain froze.
The teacher stared at Paul, then slowly smiled.
"Just as I expected," she said. "Very well… the school judge will handle this case."
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TO BE CONTINUED…