Chapter 7
Math class was dragging.
Sister Rose paced at the front of the room, her sharp voice slicing through formulas and numbers that made Carl's head spin. It all felt like gibberish — numbers dancing on the board, floating past his ears without meaning.
"Theo Salazar," Sister Rose called.
Theo stood, adjusting his tie slightly as he walked to the board with quiet confidence. With neat, practiced strokes, he solved the equation in seconds. The class watched, some impressed, others indifferent.
"Brilliant, as always," Sister Rose beamed. "Why can't the rest of you show this much effort?"
Carl's gaze lingered on Theo, and for a moment, their eyes met. Theo didn't look away. His expression wasn't smug, but it wasn't friendly either. Carl blinked, almost recoiling.
Was that... hate?
The look was brief — fleeting even — but something about it unsettled Carl. He turned away, brushing it off. Probably a mistake. He had no reason to hate him. They'd barely spoken.
---
Lunchtime came.
Carl hardly ever went to the cafeteria. Too noisy. Too many eyes. But for some reason, today felt different. Maybe it was the silence in his head or the lingering thoughts from this morning.
He walked in, picked up a tray, and chose a few random things — he didn't care much for food, but Grozel would haunt his dreams if he skipped again.
The room buzzed with chatter as he found an empty table at the far end and sat. He stabbed at his food quietly, then glanced across the room — a group of teachers sat together at the staff table.
Mr. Robert Ashton was among them. His head was turned, but as if sensing it, he looked up. Their eyes met.
He smiled.
Carl felt the corners of his lips twitch — he smiled back, just a little.
Then he felt it again.
He looked over — and saw Theo across the cafeteria, eyes locked on him. There was something intense in his stare. Not curiosity. Not friendliness. Something else.
Carl stared back, until—
"Can we sit here?"
Carl blinked. The voice was soft, sweet — almost playful. He looked up to see two girls standing at the edge of the table.
One had a pink bow in her hair, a round face, big eyes, and a sugary smile. The other had sharp features, with red lipstick and confidence in her posture.
They didn't wait for a reply. The cute one giggled. "We'll take that as a yes."
"We're from Class B," the bold one said, sitting. "I'm Gina, and this is Valerie."
"And you must be the famous rich Carl," Gina added with a teasing grin.
"Stop it, G," Valerie said, nudging her gently. "Nice to meet you, Carl." She smiled, more sincerely than her friend.
Carl didn't respond.
He stood up, picked up his tray, and left without a word.
"Hey! Rude," Gina frowned.
But Valerie placed a hand on her friend's wrist. "It's okay, G. Let him be."
"Hmph. Whatever."
---
Later That Day in Class – Joint Literature Period
That afternoon, a notice had been pinned on the hallway board:
"Joint Literature Class for Senior A & B – Room 4."
Carl didn't think much of it—until he entered the room and found it buzzing with unfamiliar faces from the other senior class. His usual spot by the window was already taken, and the only open seat was near the middle.
With a quiet sigh, he slid into a desk in the second row, trying to be invisible.
But luck, as always, had other plans.
"Look who it is," Gina whispered, plopping into the seat beside him as if it had been fate. Valerie took the seat just behind, chewing gum like she owned the place.
"Joint class, huh?" Gina leaned in, flashing a mischievous smile. "Must be destiny."
Carl blinked at her, unsure if she was serious or just always like this.
Mr. Ashton walked in a few minutes later, carrying a stack of papers and a rolled-up projector screen under one arm. The class settled. He looked around at the merged students with a tired but amused expression.
"Apparently, the projector in Class B's room is broken," he said. "So congratulations—you all get to suffer together today."
A few students chuckled.
Carl tried not to look at him. Especially not after this morning.
But Robert's gaze drifted—just briefly—in his direction. A pause, then business resumed as he started the lesson.
---
About fifteen minutes in, just as Carl was settling into the lecture on tragic archetypes, something soft hit his elbow.
A crumpled note.
Again.
He glanced to the side. Gina was already twirling a pen between her fingers, looking very not guilty.
He opened the note:
"Do you always eat alone, or were you just playing hard to get today? – G "
He blinked. Then turned again to glare at her.
She gave a dramatic gasp and clutched her chest.
Valerie rolled her eyes and leaned forward, whispering, "She's just trying to make friends. Be nice."
Carl opened his mouth to reply but froze when the teacher's voice boomed from the front.
"Mr. Hale."
Carl snapped his head toward the board. Mr. Rob— Mr. Ashton — stood there, arms folded, brow slightly raised.
"If I throw a paper at you, will I get your attention too?"
The class giggled.
Carl felt heat crawl up his neck.
"No, sir," he muttered.
Robert's eyes lingered a bit longer than necessary, just enough for Carl to catch the flicker of amusement behind them. Then he turned back to the board.
Gina whispered, "Oops."
Valerie snorted.
Carl pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.
Across the room, Theo Salazar had been watching too—though not as subtly.
He didn't know why it annoyed him. Maybe it was the whispering. Maybe it was how Carl, the one who always acted above everyone else, was suddenly smiling like a normal person.
Or maybe it was the way Robert Ashton glanced over, one too many times.
Theo's jaw clenched. He looked away, pretending to take notes, though his pen didn't move much.