Stick a dog in a lion's cage, and it shall roar; place it amongst cats, and it shall purr. The only exception to this rule is a cat… in human terms, a Metelda.
"Yo!" Metelda popped up as if the mere thought summoned her.
As she approached Klaire, everyone around scattered like broken glass, either too scared or indifferent; Klaire couldn't place her finger on which.
"You're a walking, talking anomaly," Klaire said, chuckling nervously.
"Don't know what that is—" Metelda held up a hand, interrupting Klaire before she even spoke. "…Nor do I care. Lunchtime." She showed her two lunch boxes.
The first one resembled Metelda: a black bag, plain enough to scare a teenage girl, and dark enough to stay within the shadows. The second one was definitely stolen.
"Please tell me you didn't steal the other," Klaire eyed the flowery pattern and glittering handle.
"She tried to steal mine first," Metelda shrugged. "Dibs on anything yummy."
"Hey! No fair. Dibs aren't supposed to be vague," Klaire said, but knew Metelda never would—or ever will—bow to the natural order of society.
Bow! The word felt like an insult. The thought of bowing—bowing to the world that created you, to the social norms which were the law of nature… her, Metelda! This feline fatale. Never.
Klaire chased after Metelda, who took minimal steps to dodge her broad sweeps, failing to so much as graze Metelda's unkempt uniform.
Thus, Klaire's plans for infiltration failed on the first day itself, as Metelda's presence revealed her true colors. Jessy grew more suspicious during the lunch break, watching Klaire mingle normally with the Terror family kids.
Meanwhile, Jessy's group played their own little game. Previously, they had tried to recruit Metelda on multiple occasions, all for the same reason: their seniors feared her. Jessy wanted to break their status and ambiguity, only to become another commoner in Triple S, one who tried and never even had the courtesy of being acknowledged.
"Maybe we can get to her now?" Tammy's replacement, Sanya, suggested. "Metelda never cared to join a social group, so we could never get to her through her peers. But look." She smiled at the trio. "Her social circle just formed."
"Observant as always," Jessy said, looking around her table. "Send a cheerleader." She ordered Thea.
"The one who had a crush but backed down because of us," Thea pushed for something more sinister.
"Ain't everyone on their 'A' game today?" snickered Jessy.
"It is Metelda, after all." Even Trisha joined hands.
"She's got Trisha planning evil," Raya gulped. "Can't blame you, she has that effect… I'm in too." She placed her hand last, on top. "Who are we targeting?"
"Klaire will fold easily," said Jessy. "We go for the next easiest target, corner her from both ends."
"The lord gets the first apology, though," Trisha insisted, pulling her hand far enough from the pile to force others to accept.
"And… she is back," Raya frowned. "The new you was more fun."
"The one that the devil held for a few seconds."
"Were there more?" Raya beamed with excitement.
"No!"
Metelda ignored the chill creeping up her spine, much like she ignored her brother's ongoing, inconsequential attempts to impress Klaire.
"What's with the smile?" Metelda asked flatly, eyeing Klaire. "No way my idiot of a brother is 'that' funny." Her gaze sharpened. "Are the rumors from this morning—"
Both Klaire and Junior lunged at the same time, clapping their hands over Metelda's face.
"Awkward," Metelda said with a grunt and licked Klaire's palm. "—and disgusting."
Klaire recoiled with a yelp. But before Junior could celebrate, Metelda bit down on his hand.
"Yours is the disgusting one," she mumbled around his fingers. "Never. Ever. Come this close to my face." She released him. "Unless you prefer fewer fingers."
Klaire wiped her palm on her uniform with a grimace while Junior waved his bitten hand dramatically inches from Metelda's face.
"You little gremlin!" Junior hissed. "Are you part piranha? Who even bites people like that?!"
Metelda folded her arms, smug. "I warned you."
"You didn't warn me—you assaulted me!"
"Assaulted space." Metelda was down to minimal words.
"That's not how this works!"
"Exactly."
"Complete the damn sentence," Junior muttered under a clenched jaw.
"Low," Metelda grunts.
Klaire exhaled through her nose, a small laugh escaping before she could stop it. The argument fizzled out soon after, mostly because Metelda settled for single-letter answers.
"Y and N I get," Klaire said at last. "What's M?"
"Maybe," Junior said, frowning. "There's also perhaps, okay, die, and a whole catalog of grunts. I recorded them for the Geniusbook record, and they're still listed as 'MBT'—Moronically Baffled Twats."
Metelda let out a satisfied grunt and turned to Klaire, who paused at the sound.
"Uh…" Klaire glanced at Junior. "Translation?"
Junior squinted. "…I think that one means 'drop it, or I bite again.' —no! That one's for me. Your's meant..." he squints at Metelda's expressionless face. "She wants to know everything about… you."
"Oh, right. The case." Klaire tried to evade the question. "I need you to swipe Kudo's personal notes." She clasps her hands, begging Metelda. "My age pushed me a class higher, so I can't dazzle my actual targets." She discreetly gestured towards Tammy. "That one is busy between mourning and anger, and it turns out being ignorant about the incident was the only way for a quick bond."
"You BON—Owh!"
Junior's outburst was interrupted by Klaire clapping a hand over his mouth and Metelda stabbing him with a fork.
"What happened to the gentler option?" Junior mumbles in fury.
"Eh!" Metelda grunts.
"Efficient and quicker, my ass!"
Klaire grabbed Junior's hands, gratitude doubling as a distraction before he could spiral into another debate, while the thought came unbidden: No wonder Metelda preferred to sit alone. She had already spent the energy she usually used for a day.
She remembered the flicker of discomfort on Metelda's face when she'd asked her to swipe Kudo's notes. And, for once, she was grateful Metelda hadn't had the energy to respond.
"I'll take your 'eerily profound discomfort' as a yes." Klaire flashed Metelda a smile that was all teeth and bad intentions, then smoothly hooked Junior by the collar and pivoted him so he faced only her. "Now, tell me about Tammy's sister gang."
Junior lit up like a struck match yet kept one wary eye on Metelda, trimming his enthusiasm to something resembling restraint.
"Okay… short version," he whispered, already dragging his spoon through the surface of his curry like it was a chalkboard.
He drew a crude circle. "Sanya," he said, tapping it twice. "The replacement. She's the one who slides into roles when someone disappears—same smile, different teeth." He added a neat little arrow looping back into the circle.
He turns the circle into a triangle. "Ayla. Cautious. Always the brakes. If the group stops suddenly, it's because she smelled trouble five steps ago."
A jagged spiral followed. "Raya." Junior grimaced. "Aims higher. Especially on the crazy ladder. Every bad idea starts as her warm-up."
He softened his strokes for the next mark, a small square tucked close to the others. "Thea. Safer. Which somehow makes her more dangerous. She doesn't push. You step closer to her."
Then came an uneven star, stabbed into the curry with unnecessary force. "Zoey. Loud crazy. The obvious kind. If something explodes, she's either responsible or applauding."
Junior hesitated before the last mark. He wiped his spoon clean, then pressed it gently into the curry, leaving only a shallow, shapeless dent. "And Jessy," he murmured. "Unknown. No patterns. No tells. The kind you don't notice until she's already changed the rules."
Metelda grunts and tips some of her gravy onto Junior's plate, acknowledging and rewarding him all at once.
"Aww—" Klaire started, her voice softening before she could stop herself.
Junior, however, didn't even look up. "She doesn't like this curry." He scooped a spoonful and shoved it into his mouth, face tightening as he chewed. "I don't either."
Klaire blinked. "Then… why—"
"She also hates wasting food," Junior said around another bite, swallowing hard. "Apparently, both me and it are disposable."
———<>||<>——— End of Chapter Sixty. ———<>||<>———