Chapter Text
The bell rang right on time. Students ran through the hall, bumping into each other. A Hall Monitor screamed at some of them for running – even though screaming was also against the rules. Ah, another day just like every other one at The Order of Cruciform Sword High School, commonly called OCS by its students and staff.
Three boys stood in a corner, attentively looking at the double door at the end of the hall. “Showtime.” One of them whispered.
A curly-haired girl walked down the hall in a summer dress and with an easy smile on her face. She waved around kindly like she knew everyone by heart.
“Camila Delcán…” sighed one of the other guys, dreamily. “Kind. Hacker. Aspiring fashion designer.”
The last boy smirked, suggestively. “I would bang her so hard that we’d both need helmets.” Everyone who heard him would say he didn’t stand a chance of that happening and he knew that.
Behind Camila appeared another teenager of a taller height. Her black hair was braided tightly, and her serious face contrasted with her friend’s.
“Mary Turner.” The smaller teenager said, the same look on his eyes. “Aka Shotgun Mary. Captain of the wresting team. Could kill ya without problems.”
“I’d play Call of Duty with her all night long. ” exclaimed another boy. The other two teens looked at him quizzically. “What? At least, I admit I don’t have a chance and that’s all I could possibly get from her.”
His statement received nods in response. Another girl walked behind the first two. “Show’s over. It’s just Beatrice.”
Beatrice Young was slightly smaller than her friend Mary, her hair was tied in a bun near her nape, and she sported a stoic expression and an oversize t-shirt. She didn’t receive the same compliments and description as her friend. If she did, they would probably talk about how she was a huge fan of horror movies. Or how she was the top student in most of her classes. or how she was incredible at archery. But none of those things were interesting to those dumbass guys. They only thought about one thing.
“Camila has the hottest ass.” sighed Dumbass #1.
“Mary has the hottest rack.” added Dumbass #2.
“Beatrice… has the hottest friends.” Shrugged Dumbass #3.
The trio of girl kept walking through the halls, away from the predatory looks of the group of hormonal teenagers. They stopped in front of some lockers as a tall student passed by them, shouting.
“Homecoming tickets! Buy your Homecoming tickets now for half the price!” the teenager high-fived Mary and asked. “Mary! Camila! Homecoming tickets?”
Camila gave her a bright smile and shook her head. “Nah, dude. We bought ours online. But thanks, Todd.”
“Alright, see you there.” The seller continued his path, yelling. He didn’t even spare a look at Beatrice. It was like she was invisible.
Beatrice just rolled her eyes. “And I won’t be attending so…”
Mary glared at her smaller friend, a judgmental look in her eyes. “God, you do this before every single dance.”
“Yeah, because I don’t feel like going.” grumbled Beatrice and started walking away from the lockers, followed by the other two teenagers. “And don’t look at me like that, Mary. You only want to go, ‘cause Shannon likes this stuff.”
“Fair point.” Turner nodded in admission. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for that girl.”
“Besides, there’s a Vincent Price marathon, so I gotta watch that.” Young kept justifying her decision.
“Who’s that?” Camila asked, curiously. Beatrice looked at her, scandalized. How could she not know the genius Vicent Price? What a shame… “Shoot, there’s Signore Duretti. I’m failing Italian.”
“You know you’ll not die if you say «shit», right?” Mary asked, sarcastically. “And why didn’t you take Spanish? You’re like beyond fluent.”
Camilla just rolled her eyes and told her to shut up. A couple of meters in front of the trio a middle-aged man waved them. “Buongiorno, Camila e Mary!”
“Buongiorno, Signore Duretti,” both girls greeted, Camila with a fake smile and Mary emotionless.
“Ci vediamo nel terzo periodo, il periodo migliore!” exclaimed the teacher.
Beatrice smiled brightly. “Possa il terzo periodo sconfiggere e bere il sangue di tutte le altre classi!” the man looked at her like she had two heads and didn’t say anything. “Alright...”
Delcán put an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her, affectionately. “You’re so cute when you’re weird.”
Mary cut the sweet moment short with a groan. “Asshole alert, dead ahead.”
The two other teenagers glared at the place Mary indicated and imitated the annoyed sound. Walking towards them like he owned the place was Jacob Caleb Sakraya, also known as JC. He was a playboy, the hottest guy in school, as he loved to point out.
He stopped in front of them, his friend beside him, pointing his phone at their faces. Right, Beatrice sometimes forgot how JC thought he was a celebrity, some sort of youtuber or influencer. At the end of the day, all his viewers were his classmates, and they were only interested in the gossip he leaked in his channel.
“Girls, party at my place. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.” He handed a piece of paper to Mary and Camila, who smiled falsely. Beatrice peeked at Camila’s invitation. “Randall, can you make sure you get an insert shot of them opening it. I’m doing a video about the party to my YouTube channel.”
“Wait! You’re having a party on Wednesday?” Young pointed out that detail on Camila’s invitation. “On a school night?”
JC gave her a look as if it was the first time he noticed her presence and shrugged like it wasn’t even something that crossed his mind. “Yeah, I can do that.”
“Damn, dude. Alright, we’re in.” the smaller girl gave him a nod and an awkward dumbs up.
JC’s face contorted itself into a bad-contained expression of pity and he said, with an overly soft voice. “Beatrice, you have to have an actual invite to get in and I only have a certain amount, so… yeah. But if anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Mary glared at him. If looks could kill, the dude would drop dead on the school’s dirty floor in seconds. She tore the paper in half and handed part of it to Beatrice. “Ta-da, problem solved.”
The girl waved her «special invitation», provocatively. The boy didn’t even try to hide his disappointed face, but didn’t say anything, still under Turner’s deadly glare. “Wonderful. Can’t wait.”
***
The three friends were sitting on some tables, arranged to look like a meeting room, but resembled more the room of the Geek Club – what, to be honest, wasn’t far from the truth. At the end of makeshift long table was a middle-aged man with dark-grey hair and beard and goofy aura around him. “Dora, Mel, where are we on the school lunch article?”
Dora looked at her colleague and started explaining. “We thought we could make it about how the prices of ice cream have gone up 15 cents in the cafeteria and…”
Mr. Vicent, the Lit teacher and responsible for the school journal, hold his hand up, stopping the student from keep exposing her idea. “That’s a bit vanilla. Pardon the pun. But you’re missing the meat of the story.” Some students laughed. “Our school serves pizza five days a week, paid for by taxpayer money that is used to cover us from pizza-induced diabetes. Now that’s a school lunch story.” The man said quickly and then clapped his hands. “Copy that, circle it, write it! God, nailed it! I’m so proud of me. We came up with that idea together, but mostly me.”
Camila and Beatrice shared a look and giggled at their teacher’s attics. The man was a comedy show, and they didn’t even have to pay for it.
“Alright! Next one. It’s our last assignment, but it’s real feather in the cap for any reporter worth their salt that want to comment on the social life of this institution.” Mr. Vicent kept talking. “Anyone?” No one raised their hands, some students, including Beatrice, even avoided direct eye contact with the teacher. “Oh, please, not all at once, guys.” his eyes looked at the faces of everyone present and stopped on Beatrice’s. “Beatrice! Just the gal I was hoping for!” Young groaned internally and almost smacked her head on the table in front of her. “Okay. I want you to step out of your comfort zone and bring your special brand of journalistic gravitas to an article about what homecoming means to me. I mean, not to me, but to you. I never went to a dance when I was your age. I was kind of a nerd.” Wow, what a surprise, Mr. Vincent…
Beatrice looked at him, dumbfounded. An article about homecoming? Her? Surprise, Mr. Vicent, but she was kind of a nerd to. She didn’t do dances. And certainly, they didn’t mean anything to her. She tried to explain that to him, she really tried, but her teacher interrupted her – very rudely, if you ask Beatrice – with some weird theatrical speech and some even weirder noises that she would rather not remember.
When Mr. Vicent dismissed them and all her attempts to change his mind failed miserably, Young dropped her head onto Camila’s shoulder and mumbled. “«What Homecoming means to me»? Really? What are we, 5?”
Her friends caressed her hair, fondly. “I’m sorry, Bea. I know it sucks, but maybe is the universe telling you, you need to be there.”
Beatrice grumbled loudly and pushed herself out of Delcán embrace. “Please, don’t start with the universe with me. I love you, but it’s too early in the morning. Right now, I hate everyone and everything. Except chocolate, I still love chocolate.”
Camila pouted and if Beatrice didn’t know her like the palm of her hand, she would have fallen for it. Mary, who until know was too focused on her phone talking with her girlfriend, gave them her attention and spoke. “It’s not the end of the world.”
“Well, that’s easy for you to say. I don’t have a cute girlfriend as a date.” complained Beatrice. She did want a girlfriend. Not necessarily to go to the dance, just a girlfriend. And she knew exactly who she wanted.
Her crush was so big that, when she left the room, her attention was immediately caught by said girl. Her name was – Beatrice felt butterflies in her stomach just from thinking about it – Lilith Villaumbrosia. She was leaning against a locker, long black hair and hypnotizing black eyes making Young feel weak and speechless.
That was the problem… Beatrice would lose all her vocabulary – that was extensive – every time she looked at Lilith. She couldn’t even say three coherent words to save her life if Lilith was in the perimeter. It was pathetic…
She was pathetic…