The fluorescent lights of the classroom hummed with the usual morning monotony as Mia walked past Kris's desk, a small, tentative smile playing on her lips. A strange, almost fragile sense of connection lingered from last night's unexpected motorcycle ride and the quiet melody by the canal. Surely, after that, some of the icy animosity would have thawed. She glanced at Kris, hoping to catch a similar flicker of the vulnerable boy she'd seen under the bridge, perhaps even a subtle nod of shared understanding.
But Kris wasn't the same person he was last night. The warmth that had radiated from him, the surprising sincerity in his eyes, had vanished, replaced by the familiar glint of mischief and that infuriatingly arrogant smirk. He was back in full "brat mode."
Just as Mia was about to clear her desk, he casually, almost imperceptibly, extended his leg. It wasn't a blatant trip, but just enough to catch her ankle, sending a jolt up her leg and forcing a stumble. She gasped, catching herself before she fell, her carefully cultivated morning calm shattering. Before she could even process the indignity, his hand, seemingly in a clumsy motion, swept across his desk. A clear plastic container, filled with shimmering, iridescent glitter, tipped over, spilling a small, sparkly avalanche in her direction. Most of it missed, but a fine mist of silver shimmered in the air, settling like malicious fairy dust on her dark jeans and backpack.
"Oops. Butterfingers," Kris drawled, his eyes glinting with mock innocence, utterly devoid of apology. The sheer audacity of his act, so petty yet so calculated, made Mia's blood boil. He sat there with his friends smirking and making the situation worse and unapologetic.
Her tentative smile vanished, replaced by a scowl that could curdle milk. "Are you serious right now, Kris?" Her voice, though low, vibrated with barely contained fury. "Are you actually five? Because that's the only age group I know that finds this kind of pathetic stunt amusing."
Kris merely leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, a picture of insufferable smugness. "Just making sure you're fully awake, Princess. You looked a little... dreamy. Don't want you dozing off in Professor Davies's riveting lecture, do we?" He gestured vaguely at the scattered glitter. "Consider it a wake-up call, or maybe... a little sparkle for your day."
Mia took a step closer, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You think this is funny?" she seethed, ignoring the few heads turning in their direction. "You think ruining someone's morning with your childish antics is a good use of your incredibly limited brain cells?"
Before she could even launch into the full tirade brewing inside her, James, ever the pragmatic peace-maker, stepped in. He had been watching the scene unfold with growing dread, already picturing the stern lines on Ms. Davis's face if she walked in on another one of their epic showdowns. He placed a gentle but firm hand on Mini's shoulder, subtly trying to steer her away.