Chapter 12: The Bargain
"Checkmate."
"Royal flush."
"Enemy invasion!"
"I win!"
"What the hell are you guys yelling about while playing five-in-a-row?"
Julian Hayes jolted awake, irritated by the chaotic shouting that filled his ears and killed any hope of drifting back to sleep.
Vincent Torres had a graph-paper notebook spread across his desk, the page already half-covered in scribbled X's and O's, while the guy in front twisted around to keep the game going.
"Just boosting morale, Julian. You in? I've won three straight already."
"I'm trying to sleep," Julian muttered, burying his face back into his folded arms but cracking one eye open as they erased the board and started fresh. "We're seniors now. How are you still this obsessed with games?"
"That's exactly why—we're seniors, everything's exhausting. Gotta play hard while we still can," Vincent shot him a glance. "Once we all scatter after graduation, there won't be many chances to mess around like this anymore."
Julian ignored him, closed his eyes, and tried to squeeze in a little more rest until the long break ended and study hall started.
No teacher was monitoring, so the classroom stayed relatively quiet. Soft conversations rose and fell here and there, mostly drowned out by the constant rustle of turning pages.
"Prez~ Hey, prez~"
He heard Vincent whispering near his ear, calling for Hannah Reeves.
"Hmm? What's up?" Hannah turned around, looking at him curiously.
"Switch seats with me." Vincent held up the thin notebook, his intention obvious.
"Whatever you want."
Hannah gathered her homework, bent low, and quietly slipped out of her spot so Vincent could take it.
The faint movement beside him disturbed Julian. He cracked one eye open, glanced over without much interest, then buried his face again and tried to keep dozing.
Hannah flipped open her workbook and asked casually, "How were those sausage biscuits this morning? My mom made them fresh."
"They were great. Your mom's got some serious skills."
"Think you'll want more tomorrow?"
Julian hesitated, the pull of that sticky, savory flavor warring with his stubborn pride. He swallowed hard, the memory of the rich taste still vivid.
Hannah's expression turned sly as she watched him wrestle with it, clearly reading his reluctance. "Relax, it's not charity. I've got conditions. Let's make a deal."
"What conditions? I'm not doing anything shady like hits or theft."
"I'm not some mob boss's daughter, and I wouldn't come to a scrawny guy like you for muscle anyway." Hannah matched his teasing tone. "I sometimes have trouble sleeping at night. When that happens, I'll call you, and you can tell me a bedtime story."
"Are you still in kindergarten or something?" Julian looked at her, seeing the same playful, carefree girl who seemed untouched by the world.
"So, will you do it or not? Ten minutes of your time for a few breakfasts—think it over carefully~" Hannah raised an eyebrow, narrowing her eyes as she saw him growing more tempted. "And if I have time, I can even tutor you. That's on the house."
"Margaret said she'd help me with that."
Her usual energy flipped to irritation in an instant. Those pretty, delicate brows furrowed, and Hannah snapped back teasingly, "Margaret again? You really like her that much? I never realized you two were so tight. Fine, don't want it? Go ask her for help instead."
"But I do want the biscuits."
"Don't even think about it, you idiot. Stick to your packaged bread rolls."
Hannah gritted her teeth, fixed her gaze on the homework in front of her, and stopped paying attention to Julian, diving straight into the problems.
Julian felt a pang of helplessness, unsure why the girl had suddenly gotten angry. He closed his eyes and tried to catch up on sleep.
The silence stretched for several minutes. Hannah shot him a frustrated glance, like she couldn't believe how dense he was. That messy black hair of his faced her, and he looked perfectly content napping.
"Teacher's coming."
Hannah leaned in and whispered the warning, her words quick and urgent, sounding completely serious.
Julian jerked his head up in panic, grabbing his pen and flipping through his book, scanning the room out of the corner of his eye.
"Just kidding—she was at the window but already left."
"You're not messing with me, right?" Julian stared at her suspiciously.
"Believe what you want. Besides, class is almost over anyway. No more sleeping."
Hannah packed up her books, tapped Vincent—who had just finished his game—and signaled for him to switch back.
The bell rang a few minutes later, and the scrape of chairs filled the room as everyone stood.
Julian grabbed his water bottle and squeezed out through the gap behind Vincent's chair, joining the flow of students in the hallway.
He overheard plenty of chatter about the upcoming class divisions. A lot of people were sighing over how two-plus years of friendship would now have to stretch across different classrooms. Acquaintances would turn into strangers, even though graduation would separate everyone eventually anyway.
Honors classes felt like a dividing line between the haves and have-nots. Maybe the original intent was just to give top students a better learning environment and pace, but everyone saw it as the mark of being one of the "good" kids.
That perception didn't mean much in the grand scheme. More than worrying about score cutoffs, students cared most about whether their closest friends would be split up because of it.
Julian did care about his grades. Margaret and Hannah had basically already secured spots in honors. He figured he'd better push hard too—for higher scores, for that acceptance letter to Silverwood University.
Not many people were clustered around the drinking fountain. A few spouts opened up quickly. Julian moved his bottle under one, but the scalding stream missed the opening, splashing his fingers and nearly knocking the bottle over.
"You okay?" a girl asked, genuine concern in her voice as she steadied his fallen bottle. "Want to run it under cold water? I can hold your bottle for you."
"I'm fine. It'll pass in a second."
Julian blew on his reddened fingers, the sting easing a bit. He looked up at the girl who'd tightened the cap—beautiful, like a delicate dusting of snow bending a branch.
"You came to get water too?"
"Yeah. Walked up just in time to see you being clumsy."
Margaret had her school uniform layered over a teal hoodie, bundled up snugly. The long sleeves swallowed her fingers, and she cradled a petite glass cup. Her skin glowed pale with a faint flush.
"Here, yours is ready."
Margaret shut off the valve. The bottle under the spout was filled to the max, cap still in Julian's hand. "Cap it yourself. I'm heading out."
"Uh… thanks." Julian stood there a little stunned, carefully securing his bottle.
The warmth seeped through the glass into her fair, delicate hands. Margaret tucked them deeper into her sleeve fabric, gripping the cup through the material. The heat traveled from cloth to skin, then into her veins, spreading through her body.
She suddenly paused mid-step, turned to face him, her expression unreadable. "I passed by your classroom earlier and saw Hannah sitting right next to you…"
"Oh, that. Vincent and the guy in front were playing five-in-a-row, so they swapped seats for one period."
"You didn't play with them?" Margaret let out a subtle breath of relief, dropping the casual act she'd been forcing.
"I was napping. Had insomnia last night, but I'm feeling better now."
"Study hard. If you need any help, just tell me."
Her voice was light and clear, carrying the dry bite of autumn air and somehow feeling more real for it.
Her collar brushed against a neck as pale as fresh snow. Saliva pooled in her throat as Margaret hesitated, then finally asked, "You and Hannah… are you two close?"
Julian thought for a moment, answering a bit awkwardly. "We're okay, I guess. Just regular friends. The class president… she's a nice person."
"Nice to you in particular?" Margaret asked lightly, as if teasing.
"Regular friends, you know… nothing special. But yeah, she has helped me out a lot."
"More than me?"
"What?" Julian hadn't expected that question; it caught him off guard. "There's nothing to compare."
"Heh, just asking."
Margaret turned away and walked off, disappearing from view as she passed the door to classroom three.