Chapter Five
"Mum! Mum, I got it!"
"What is it now, Frankie?" her mum called from the kitchen. "Is the kettle trippin' again?"
"No!" Frankie burst into the sitting room, barefoot and breathless, her cracked Android phone clutched in her hand like treasure. "The scholarship, I got it!"
Her mum stepped into the room, wiping her hands on a tea-stained dishcloth. "What d'you mean?"
"Briarwick Academy! You remember that posh school I applied to for?" Frankie beamed, cheeks flushed. "They picked me. Full scholarship. All the way through college. It's here. It's real!"
Her mum blinked, then looked at the phone like it might explode. "Full scholarship? For Briarwick?"
"Yes, Mum! From now till uni! Tuition, meals, books, everything."
"Wait, when did that email come through?"
Frankie scratched the back of her neck. "Last week."
Her mum's eyebrows lifted. "Last week? Frankie..."
"I didn't see it 'til this morning, alright?" she said quickly. "We were out of data. Again. I checked it at the corner shop using their Wi-Fi. Called them right after, they said I can still start. I'm late, but they'll let me join on Monday."
Her mum exhaled shakily and sat down on the edge of the couch. "Jesus. You mean we almost missed it?"
"Almost." Frankie grinned, eyes shining. "But we didn't."
Her little sister, Penelope popped her head through the doorway, her plaits bouncing. "You're going to school with rich kids now?"
Frankie nodded. "Yep."
"You gonna start talkin' like them too?"
"Only if it gets me a job after," Frankie shot back, grinning.
Her mum chuckled despite herself, but her eyes held worry. "We'll need to sort a uniform. That place won't take no half-washed blazer."
"I know." Frankie sat beside her. "But I've already downloaded the curriculum. I'm gonna study from home 'til we scrape together what we need."
Her mum reached over, pressing her palms to Frankie's cheeks. "You've always been sharp. They don't know it yet, but they're lucky to have you."
Frankie swallowed hard and smiled. "I'm gonna smash it, Mum. I have to."
***
Outside their flat, the concrete was cracked and uneven, the air thick with chip shop grease, bin smells, and the chatter of council estate life. The morning sun barely reached the ground between the rows of red-brick buildings, but Frankie didn't care. She was buzzing.
She stepped outside to sit on the low wall near their front door. Hair in a messy bun. Wrinkled tracksuit bottoms. Faded hoodie.
Even like this, Francisca Adebayo was the kind of girl people noticed.
Long legs, flawless skin with undertones like burnished bronze, full lips that looked like they stayed ready to tell someone off. Her eyes were sharp, dark, fiery, observant. She was beautiful, effortlessly so, but she didn't polish it.
She didn't have the money for gloss and glam. Her nails were unpainted, and her trainers had holes in the soles. But she wore her pride like armour, and her brain was her brightest jewel.
"Oi, Frankie!" came a voice from across the fence. It was their nosy neighbour, Mrs. Dutton, leaning on her window ledge with a half-eaten sausage roll.
Frankie didn't even look up. "Morning, Mrs. Dutton."
"You skivin' school again?"
Frankie raised her brow, finally turning to her. "I'm not 'skivin'. I just got into Briarwick Academy on scholarship."
Mrs. Dutton laughed, loud and harsh. "You? Briarwick? What, did they lose a bet?"
Frankie stood, slowly, stretching her arms like a cat who wasn't in the mood to be nice. "Nah. Turns out they just like smart, hard-working girls. Even if they're not dipped in designer clothes or cling-wrapped in fake eyelashes."
Mrs. Dutton blinked.
Frankie smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And don't get it twisted, I might look broke, but my IQ could buy your house and flip it in the same breath."
The older woman huffed and disappeared from the window, muttering something about "cheeky little madams."
Frankie sat back down, shaking her head. "Every damn time."
Penelope came out of their apartment curious, "What did you say to Dutton this time?"
"Nothing but the truth," Frankie said, stretching out again. "Some people just can't stand seeing a girl with brains."
Penelope snorted. "So when you starting your rich kid life?"
"Monday."
"You got uniform?"
"Not yet. But I'll figure it out."
Penelope nodded. "That's what you do, innit?"
Frankie grinned. "Damn right."
She didn't bend to bullies, didn't shrink in the face of posh accents or trust fund babies.
They could throw wealth, polish, and attitude at her, but she had grit and she knew exactly how to use it.
***
Back in Briarwick Academy, during the lunch break,
Pascal was approaching Leo like every step had a purpose and every blink was calculated.
Leo's spine straightened in his seat.
The canteen noise dulled in his ears, fading beneath the sudden pressure building in his chest. The air seemed heavier, like it had shifted solely around him.
"Is he… coming over here?" he murmured under his breath.
One of the girls followed his gaze. "Who? Him?"
"Yes," Leo muttered, lips barely moving.
"Oh," she said, then half-laughed. "Well, he's… intense."
"He looks tense," another girl whispered.
"I don't like that look," Leo said quietly, eyes still fixed on Pascal's path.
Pascal wasn't blinking or smiling. He wasn't even trying to pretend he wasn't walking directly at Leo.
Leo's fingers twitched beneath the table.
He tapped his knee, once.
Immediately, the guard nearest to him straightened, alert and subtle but ready.
Pascal drew nearer, his stride smooth and unhurried.
Leo's fingers curled around the edge of the bench. "I swear, if he throws a punch, just one, "
"He's probably going for the vending machine," said the girl with a French braid, trying to sound light.
"Not with that glare directly at me," Leo replied through gritted teeth.
Now Pascal was just steps away.
He didn't speak or take his eyes off Leo.
The girls around Leo grew noticeably quieter, nervous laughter bubbling at the surface like steam in a covered pot.
Then,
Pascal reached the edge of their table and he just walked past.
Leo blinked as Pascal moved straight toward the vending machine, still utterly composed.
"Seriously?" Leo muttered, watching him like he expected Pascal to suddenly spin back with a flying kick.
One of the girls let out a breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and snorted. "You were ready to call in MI5."
Leo tore his eyes away just long enough to give her a sideways look. "I was just being vigilant."
"You were about to launch a royal war"
"You saw the way he looked at me."
"He looks at everyone like that."
"No," Leo said firmly, "That was different."
"Maybe he's just not into the whole royal charmer act," said a girl at the end of the table. "Some people just don't like the spotlight."
Leo scoffed. "Please. Everyone likes the act. He's just too broody to admit it."
"Scared him off with all your bodyguards, probably."
"Mm." Leo popped another grape into his mouth. "Good. That was the plan."
They giggled again, leaning closer like they were drawn to heat. One girl brushed her hand over his shoulder, and he didn't stop her.
But even as he smirked and leaned into the attention, Leo's gaze kept flicking back to the vending machine.
Pascal stood there now, sipping from a juice carton like he hadn't just triggered a mild security response.
The guy didn't even seem aware of the way he unnerved people.
"…That guy creeps me out," Leo muttered again.
A girl beside him nudged his arm. "You jealous or something?"
Leo turned to her slowly. "Jealous?"
She smiled playfully. "You keep watching him like you're mad he's not watching you back."
The others giggled.
Leo didn't laugh.
"I just don't trust people who pretend they don't see me," he said.
"Well, maybe he sees you a little too well," another girl murmured.
Leo narrowed his eyes.
Pascal was walking away now, heading back to the other end of the canteen, where he settled into his original spot, alone, again.
Still sipping that juice and watching the world like it was on trial.
Leo leaned back, folding his arms.
Everything in him wanted to relax, to fall back into the lazy rhythm of attention, of flattery, of flirting, but something in the base of his skull buzzed like a warning.
That stare earlier and the one in class?
It was too personal and intentional.
The air around him shifted again. Leo glanced at his guards. They were calm now, relaxed but he wasn't, he couldn't wait for Desmond to resume, someone to help him and reassure him in situations like this. He couldn't trust anyone even with half the school trying to sit on his lap…