The school cafeteria hummed with life, a chaotic mix of laughter, conversations, and the clatter of silverware against the fine china. It wasn't just a school cafeteria-it was a statement of wealth. Chandeliers dangled from the ceiling, their crystals reflecting the golden glow of the sun. The long mahogany tables gleamed under the warm light, each one occupied by the students grouped according to an unspoken hierarchy. Near the windows sat the elite-wealthiest who dictated the school's social order.
Bianca, of course, sat at the center of it all, her polished nails tapping rhythmically against the table as she spoke. Laughter erupted around her, perfectly timed to whatever story she was telling. The Middle section belonged to those who had money but not power-students who were well off but lacked the influence to sit with the elites. And then there were the few scattered individuals at the farthest corners of the room, those who were either too quiet, too different, or introverts but rich as well.
Elara had no place among them; she hesitated at the entrance, gripping the few coins in her palm, feeling their rough edges dig into her skin. She hadn't planned to come here, she had convinced herself that she could wait out the break in the library, but after standing for an hour plus during the first lesson, she was thirsty and could not control it. The moment she stepped in, the shift in atmosphere was immediate. It was like pressing pause on a movie. The chatter didn't stop completely, but it was quiet enough for her to feel the weight of every gaze that landed on her. She ignored it. Head high, she walked toward the counter, her shoes nearly silent against the tiled floor.
"Can I get a bottle of water, please?" She asked, her voice even. The cashier, who had been in mid-conversation with another student, paused. For a second, she lingered like she wanted to say something, maybe a snide remark, maybe a warning, but instead, she simply reached under the counter and placed a bottle in front of Elara.
Elara handed over the coins. She felt the moment, the cashier's fingers hesitating before taking the money as if the act of serving her was some great inconvenience. Then it happened. The laughter. It started as a snicker from one table, then another until it swelled into a wave of amusement that rippled across the cafeteria.
"She actually bought something!" Someone jeered.
"Water! That's all she can afford," another voice added followed by more laughter.
Elara kept her grip tight around the bottle, her nails digging into the plastic as she turned. The laughter didn't stop, it only got worse. She had already taken too many hits today. She had been dragged, humiliated, and forced to stand outside her own class for hours. She was not going to let a drink of water be the thing that broke her. She took a step. Then another. Then- A foot shot out in front of her.
Elara barely had time to react before she was stumbling forward. Her hands instinctively shot out, but there was nothing to grab into. The cafeteria gasped as she crashed onto the floor, the bottle slipping from her grasp and rolling away. She had barely registered the pain in her palms before she heard the sharp sound of liquid spilling, rallied by a grasp flat wasn't hers. Bianca's grasp. Elara lifted her head, just in time to see the dark stain spreading across Bianca's pristine blouse. Coffee. For a moment there was silence. Then a shriek.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Bianca shot to her feet, her eyes blazing with rage. Elara didn't move.
She wanted to say sorry, but she didn't even have the energy to talk. From the corner of her eye, she saw the new boy stand from his seat. For a brief second, she thought someone was finally going to save her. But that was not the case. He didn't even look at her, he turned and walked out of the cafeteria. She hadn't expected much either; he was a new student anyway, and from the way he looked, he reeked of money; how could he even side with her? Bianca was seething. She took slow steps towards Elara, who was still on the floor.
"You think this is funny? Bianca's voice was eerily calm, but the dangerous glint in her eyes sent a chill down Elara's spine. Elara knew better than to respond. Bianca crossed her arms.
"You spilled coffee on my blouse and all over my shoes," she said.
"You can't even afford the coffee let alone my shoes, or can you pay for them?" Elara stiffened. If Bianca asked for money for that blouse, she would have to work day and night for almost a month to afford it. And Bianca was not the type to be patient. Bianca smirked.
"No?" She clicked her tongue. "I thought so." Without a warning, Bianca bent down, grabbed one of Elara's shoes, and yanked it off her foot. Elara tried to pull away, but Bianca's grip was firm.
"What...what are you doing?" Elaras voice was sharper than she intended but she couldn't help it. What was Bianca doing? But Bianca ignored her. She lifted the shoe, examining it with distaste before letting out a mocking laugh.
"Look at this thing!" She said, waving it for everyone to see.
"No brand, no style...honestly it's embarrassing...who even sponsored you to get into a school that you can't even keep up with?" The cafeteria erupted into a peal of laughter. Elara's heart pounded. She tried to reach out for her shoe, but Bianca stepped back. Then, to her horror, Bianca pulled a small knife, which was a part of her keyholder, the one used for emergency; one side was a comb, and the other side a knife.
The laughter died as the students leaned forward in anticipation. Elara felt her stomach twist. Bianca twirled the knife between her fingers before pressing it against the shoe's fabric.
"What happens when something is worthless?" She mused tilting her head. The knife sank into the material, ripping through it with a slow, deliberate motion. Elaras breath hitched. Bianca tore the shoe effortlessly, her movements precise and practiced, as if she had done this before. For a moment elara could not move.
"Now it matches you," Bianca said, sweetly, dropping the pieces onto Clara's lap. She could feel every eye in the room on her, waiting to see how she could react. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw the ruined shoe in Bianca's face and tell her exactly what she thought of her. But she did none of those things.
Instead, she stood up. One shoe in ruins, humiliation burning in her veins, she picked up her bottle of water, turned her back on the cafeteria, and walked away. She didn't look back, she knew she would start crying. Her steps were uneven, the cold tiles in the hallway stinging her foot that had only a sock on, but she didn't stop.
She couldn't. The sound of laughter still rang in her ears, echoing down the corridor like a cruel melody. Her vision blurred, tears almost falling. But she refused to cry. The pain, the shame, the anger, it was all bottled up inside, pressing against her ribs like a torn trying to break free. She climbed the stairs to her classroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. When she finally etched the door, she hesitated just for a second, inhaling sharply before pushing it open. The room was empty, or so she thought. Then she saw him, Damien, the new student. He was sitting at his desk, one arm dropped lazily over the back of his chair, his other hand spinning a pen between his fingers. His gaze flickers at her the moment she steps in. For a brief sensible, something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Then, just as quickly, his expression turned dismissive and cold. Elara swallowed hard. She took a step forward, intending to make her way to her seat, but in her daze, her foot caught the edge of a locker near the door. She tripped. Not hard enough to fall, but just enough to make a noise. Damien's pen stopped spinning. His lips pressed unto a thin line, and with a sigh, he leaned back slightly, giving her a look that screamed nothing but disinterest and dismissal. His gaze slowly raked over her, her disheveled hair, her clenched jaw, her one missing shoe. Elara stiffened under his scrutiny and before she could think better of it, she turned on her heel, ready to leave. But then the sound of his chair scraping against the floor made her stop.
"Stay," Damien said suddenly. She turned back surprised. He was already standing. His tall frame was shadowed slightly by the light pouring through the windows.
"I'll be the one to leave, "he added, his tone unreadable. And without another word, he walked past her, leaving the classroom. Elara stood frozen for a moment, staring at the space he had just occupied.