Chapter 13: The Silhouette
Riverside High School had fairly lenient rules. Physical education classes only got canceled during the second semester of senior year.
Margaret Monroe sat by the window. A simple turn of her head gave her a perfect view of the school field outside, where several energetic guys from Class Four were chasing an orange basketball, shouting and running back and forth.
Julian wasn't participating. He sat alone on the nearby steps, cheek resting on his hand as he watched the lively chaos with zero interest, simply waiting for the period to end.
The temperature was falling as winter drew closer. The air had turned dry and frozen, thick with irritating dust that made breathing uncomfortable. Coughs kept breaking out around the classroom.
A middle-aged man wearing black-rimmed glasses stood at the lectern explaining problems. His voice was dry and hoarse, yet full of energy as he pointed at the white writing on the blackboard—dense with obscure formulas—and attacked the tough questions that cost students the most points, his volume carrying across the room.
Margaret glanced back at the blackboard and the teacher before returning her eyes to the field. Her gaze locked onto that lazy figure who had lowered his head, his black hair looking dry and split at the ends.
The boy appeared somewhat forlorn sitting there by himself, not quite blending into the energetic scene.
Margaret knew the truth. He didn't really enjoy sports. He only forced himself sometimes out of habit, trying to look like he fit in.
This lonely version of Julian was exactly what she wanted. The boy only needed her. They would keep each other company and build the strongest possible bond, one that no third person could ever break into.
He was the raw gem she had discovered first. Covered in dust, she had carefully polished him, wiped away every speck of grime, and even carved her name into him. The claim of ownership was unmistakable—no one else was allowed to touch what was hers.
Her slender fingers pressed against the cold glass of the window, tracing the outline of Julian's figure as if she could pull him straight into her palm bit by bit.
"Margaret, what's the next step for this one?"
The math teacher suddenly called on her. He must have noticed her distraction and asked her to stand and answer, his face serious as his thin finger pointed at the chalk writing.
Margaret scanned the problem steps. She knew this one perfectly and remembered the solution clearly. The board made it obvious too.
She stood tall. Several pairs of eyes in the classroom turned toward her. The short pause made them wonder whether even the top student could space out. Some watched with open curiosity—this wasn't a common sight.
Her desk mate Emma covered her mouth, about to whisper a hint, but Margaret spoke first.
"Reduce the power. The coefficient of cos cubed x, then multiply both sides by two."
"Correct. You may sit. We start by reducing the power here. Everyone remembers the reduction formula, right? Cos squared equals…"
Margaret's grades were never something to worry about. Since she had answered smoothly, missing part of the lecture didn't matter.
The tedious class continued. Several students in the back rows were dozing off, while others half-heartedly went through the motions.
"Margaret, you knew that one?"
Emma leaned over and asked quietly. She had seen Margaret zoning out and was surprised she still got it right. "You really are something else."
"I solved it earlier. The calculations are just pretty heavy."
"Teach me? I couldn't follow the teacher at all. I got half of it and then got stuck."
"Sure, let me take a look."
Margaret pulled over Emma's worksheet. It was covered in dense numbers and letters—she had clearly tried hard, but there was no bright red checkmark.
Many teachers only marked correct answers with a check and left the wrongs unmarked.
Margaret started from the top. Emma leaned in close as Margaret's neat, elegant handwriting filled the remaining blank space. She explained everything carefully, pausing now and then to ask if it made sense.
"So that's how it works. Thanks, I'll reorganize it myself later."
Emma pulled her paper back and picked up her pen. Noticing Margaret staring out the window again, she asked in a low, gossipy voice, "That's Class Four, right? They have PE this period. Margaret, who exactly are you looking at?"
"Nothing important."
But Emma grew more interested and followed her gaze, scanning the field until she spotted the boy sitting by the court.
"Isn't that Julian Hayes sitting over there? You're not watching him, are you?"
Margaret turned back, meeting the girl's eager eyes. Those plain, ordinary eyes looked dull and common in front of her own dark, obsidian-like pupils. Even the girl's decently attractive face couldn't compare.
Her gaze remained calm as still water—an ancient well without the slightest ripple.
Thinking she had caught something, Emma glanced at the teacher and lowered her voice to share the gossip. "Alright, alright. I know you're not super into Julian, but a few girls in our class have been eyeing him. He's really good-looking, so it's normal for people to like him."
She clicked her tongue and continued on her own. "It's too bad Julian's a bit… quiet? He doesn't show himself much and mostly stays in his own corner. He doesn't talk to a lot of people. Otherwise he'd be really popular."
"Really? That popular?"
"Of course. Handsome, not a jerk, and has a good personality. Even in his own class some girls like him. Their class president, Hannah—I heard she might be interested in him too."
Margaret smiled, her expression perfectly calm. "Is that so?"
"Not sure. I just heard that Hannah's pretty close with him. They might just be regular friends."
"Then it's better not to spread rumors like that. It's not fair to the people involved." Margaret reminded her gently, then added with a hint of self-mockery, "Speaking of which, there were rumors about me and Julian going around a few days ago, right?"
"There were, but they were probably fake. I don't think you like him that much anyway."
"Stop paying attention to that kind of nonsense. Just focus on studying."
Margaret patted her shoulder and looked up. Without realizing it, her gaze drifted back toward the window once more.
Someone had sat down next to the boy. The face was just as delicate and beautiful, with long legs and a slim waist. Even wrapped in thick clothing, the soft curve of her chest remained visible.
They looked like they were chatting. She couldn't hear the words, but whatever was being said shattered the calm lake in Margaret's eyes. Violent waves surged violently, crashing hard against the shore.
A dark voice whispered in her ear, offering a filthy but highly effective method.
If… she left her physical mark on his body, what would happen?
She could completely claim that sweetness. He looked so pure, with fine bones and flawless fair skin—an unparalleled delicacy. His taste would surely fill the hollow emptiness inside her heart.
Such nightmarish desire. She wanted to corrupt that gentle obedience, drag the boy into the mud, and pollute him completely for her own selfish pleasure.
Guilt and greed clashed inside her. Margaret shook her head, trying to rip the thought away, disgusted by her own ugliness.
Yet her thighs pressed together involuntarily. A throbbing ache spread through her core. The heat refused to fade from her mind. Saliva flooded her mouth. A deep flush crept across her pale skin. Her sanity was being tormented.
People were already coveting him, even trying to steal what belonged to her. Why should she remain passive? What was wrong with indulging herself?
How incredibly sweet would he taste? How delicious?
If she covered him with her scent, would he become more obedient?
The thick fabric between her legs grew hot and slick. Margaret bit down on her fingernail as the bell finally rang. She watched Hannah stand up and walk away. Julian blended into the group of boys heading back toward the building.
Margaret turned away from the window. In her palm, a test paper had been crumpled into a tight ball, the page soaked through with sweat.