The sun filtered weakly through the half-drawn classroom blinds, casting pale, broken bars of light across the tiled floor. Lottie leaned against the windowsill, arms loosely crossed, her fingers brushing faintly along the cool edge of the pane. She tracked every nuance of the carefully staged performance unfolding across the room. Evelyn's voice floated softly through the air, syrupy-smooth, every word feathered with the kind of practiced ease only the truly dangerous could wield.
Amy huddled at her side, shoulders drawn tight like a wound-up spring, the faintest tremble shaking her small frame. Sniffles punctuated her shallow, uneven breaths, sharp little catches in her throat that made her words come out fragmented, broken like chipped glass.
"There, there, Amy," Evelyn murmured, one manicured hand gliding in delicate strokes down Amy's hunched back. Her fingers moved in slow, deliberate patterns, as if tracing invisible words onto Amy's blazer, as if branding her as hers. Evelyn's eyes, half-lidded with apparent concern, flicked upward—just once, barely a second—but Lottie caught it. That glint of triumph sparking like a cold match behind the mask, a flash of satisfaction so brief it would've been invisible to anyone else.
"Don't let the noise get to you. People love drama; they'll latch on to anything," Evelyn purred, the softness of her voice curling into the tense air like smoke.
Amy choked on a laugh that was more like a sob, clutching the sleeve of Evelyn's cardigan with white-knuckled fingers. "I just… I didn't mean for any of this to happen," she whispered, voice wobbling like a thread about to snap. "I never thought it'd blow up like this." Her nails bit faint crescents into the fabric, her shoulders jerking with each stifled breath.
From his spot near the door, Leo's quiet snort of amusement brushed Lottie's ear. "She's baiting her," he muttered under his breath, voice pitched low enough that only Lottie could catch it. His posture was all lazy confidence—one shoulder against the doorframe, hands tucked casually into his pockets—but his eyes were razor-sharp, cutting through the spectacle with surgical precision.
Lottie's jaw tightened as she watched Evelyn smooth a few stray strands of Amy's hair behind her ear, the touch just a shade too lingering, her fingers tracing the curve of Amy's jaw as if sculpting her from clay. The stir of whispers around the classroom grew, an undercurrent humming just beneath the surface. Lottie could hear them—thin, sharp-edged murmurs threading through the space like tiny needles.
"Poor Amy," Evelyn crooned softly, her voice like silk against skin. "I'm sure you didn't mean for this. You just need to be careful whom you trust next time."
Lottie's fingers twitched at her side. She drew in a slow, controlled breath, the sound catching faintly at the back of her throat. Her nails bit deeper into her palm, a dull ache blooming in the soft skin there. Amy's shoulders shook harder, her face burrowing into Evelyn's shoulder as if seeking shelter from a storm. But Lottie saw the truth—the desperate grip, the darting, uncertain glances when Amy thought no one was looking, the fractures spreading wide beneath the surface.
A new murmur rippled through the classroom as phones buzzed softly, the glow of screens lighting up eager, intent faces. Lottie slid her phone from her pocket, the cold glass a steadying weight in her hand. Amy's social feed flashed across the screen: a new post, vague but heavy with implication.
"Sometimes you have to burn a bridge to light the way."
A sharp twist of emotion flickered in Lottie's chest—half fury, half sorrow, a messy knot of grief tangled up with something raw and bright. She turned the phone over in her palm, the reflection of her face dim and fractured in the darkened glass, the corners of her mouth drawn tight. Evelyn's voice drifted toward her again, honey-thick and sharpened to a blade's edge.
"It's just…" Evelyn sighed delicately, brushing a fingertip beneath Amy's eye where a tear clung stubbornly to her lashes, "not everyone knows how to handle attention gracefully. But I'm here. You know that."
The words were poison wrapped in velvet, and Amy drank them down like lifeblood. Lottie's nails dug deeper into her palm, the ache blooming sharper, hotter, as she watched Amy melt further into Evelyn's hold, a marionette pulled gently back into the strings.
"Teachers are even praising Evelyn now," Leo murmured, voice edged with disdain. "They think she's the patron saint of kindness." His breath stirred the air near Lottie's temple, his shoulder brushing hers lightly for the briefest second—a grounding, a tether.
Lottie's eyes narrowed slightly, tracking the ripple of glances across the room, the half-hidden smirks, the messages flicking back and forth under desks like moths beating at a window. The social chessboard was resetting before her eyes, every piece shifting with subtle, deliberate force. Her pulse drummed steady and hard in her ears, but her face remained calm, still, an unbroken surface.
Amy's laughter bubbled up suddenly, high and brittle, cracking on the last note like ice underfoot. "You're so good to me, Evelyn," she breathed, clinging tighter to Evelyn's hand as though it were the only thing keeping her upright. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
Lottie felt something cold settle in her chest, her gaze hardening to polished glass. Across the room, Evelyn's eyes flicked to hers—just for a heartbeat—and a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. The faintest tilt of her head, the smallest lift of one brow: a challenge delivered without a single word, a dare to see if Lottie would break first.
A sharp buzz vibrated in Lottie's palm. She lifted the phone, thumb brushing over the message notification.
Leo:We need to prepare.
Her fingers curled around the phone, the screen dimming as she exhaled slowly, the knot in her chest drawing tight and dense as a fist. She felt the fury simmering just beneath her skin, white-hot and electric, but she forced it into stillness, sharpening it into something cold, something lethal.
She watched as Amy leaned deeper into Evelyn's shoulder, her small, broken laugh muffled into soft fabric. Evelyn murmured something low, her lips brushing close to Amy's ear, and Lottie caught the faintest gleam in Evelyn's eyes, that glimmer of victorious satisfaction when Amy couldn't see.
Lottie's heart clenched once, sharply, before settling into a steady, deliberate beat. She felt the sting of anger and the ache of grief coil tightly in her throat, the bitter taste of watching a friend fold under the weight of carefully placed lies. But above it all, there was clarity—Evelyn was feeding the fire too greedily, burning through her pieces faster than she realized.
The bell rang, a sudden, jagged burst of sound that splintered the room into motion. The light quivered faintly on the walls, as if the room itself held its breath, waiting for collapse. Lottie straightened from the wall, shoulders drawing back, the cool edge of the windowsill falling away from her skin. The scrape of chairs, the shuffle of feet, the hushed swirl of conversation—all of it washed over her, the noise sliding across her nerves like water over stone.
Amy's laughter drifted after her, softer now, blurred with exhaustion, the edges fraying like old cloth. Lottie glanced back once, catching the slight tremble in Amy's hands as she gathered her books, the flicker of panic in her eyes as Evelyn's fingers tightened briefly on her arm.
"Poor Amy…" Evelyn's voice floated behind her, lilting and bright as a blade. "She deserves better friends."
Lottie's spine went rigid, her fingers tightening reflexively around the strap of her bag, leather biting into her palm. For a heartbeat, the urge to turn back surged, hot and wild and blinding. But she swallowed it, forced it down hard, and let her feet carry her forward, the echo of her footsteps cutting sharp through the buzz of voices.
The hallway air was cooler, sharper, the din of conversation fading as students spilled from classrooms into narrow, sunlit corridors. Lottie drew in a breath, deep and slow, the crisp bite of it clearing the sting from her throat, the weight of the moment settling like a mantle across her shoulders.
Beside her, Leo fell into step, his hand brushing lightly against her arm again, a wordless tether. "You're letting her hang herself," he murmured, the corner of his mouth curving into a faint, approving smirk. "Smart."
Lottie's lips pressed into a thin line, the corners trembling faintly with the pressure. "For now."
They moved through the shifting crowd, steps measured, the hum of tension thick around them. Somewhere behind them, Amy's voice lifted in nervous laughter, and Evelyn's low, honeyed reply followed, curling softly into the air like smoke curling from a lit match.
Lottie's pulse thrummed, steady and sure, the ache in her chest hardening into resolve. She glanced once at Leo, a flicker of understanding passing between them like a silent promise.
The game wasn't over.
The queen was merely reshuffling the board.