"THEY NEVER STOP arguing," Constance breathes out, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to keep herself awake.

I sigh, unsure of what to say. Her parents have always argued, but they've never been this bad. "You've really got to get some sleep though, Con. Even if they argue, you aren't their mediator."

She nods, and I know I haven't helped her at all but she accepts my words anyway. When she slips into the seats we claimed in biology on the first day of school I follow, sitting right next to her.

"Mom thinks he's cheating again, Dad says she's one to talk," at that Con self-consciously reaches to her scalp where her natural red roots haven't grown back. Her hair's still pitch black, just as it has been since she first started getting it dyed in middle school.

It's no secret the Leighton siblings all have differing features, some more jarring than the others. The most notable however are their hair colours — only two out of five siblings share the same one.

"That's awful," I say, quieting down the second I see Mr. Locke enter the classroom. Everyone begins to grow silent as well, not wanting to get on the notoriously merciless teacher's bad side.

Beside me, Constance shrugs lips downturned. "There's nothing I can do about it, I wish they'd just split up already or something. I know that's selfish. Ugh, look at me complaining about not wanting to have my parents when you only have one. How selfish of me, I'm so sorry Nads. "

"Oh, no it's so okay." I smile shyly, feeling as my ears begin to burn. It's not that I'm upset, It's just that Dad's death isn't something that I like talking about. He passed away when I was seven, so I've lived more of my life without him than I have with him. It's just my normal now.

"I—" Con goes to apologise again but Mr Locke has already started to talk about what we'll be studying, he mentions something about 'DNA manipulation,' and I open up my notebook as Constance reaches for her laptop.

Biology is one of my favourite subjects, of course, second to textiles but it's still in my top three. Constance and I take the more science—based subjects in the group whilst Valé and Bailey take English—influenced ones. Aristotle is a mix, but her core ones centre around history.

"Everyone knows what DNA is right?" Mr Locke's gruff voice asks. Everyone in the class nods their head, "We amplify identical DNA through the use of a PCR. A PCR is a polymerase chain reaction..."

Beside me, I hear Con's fingernails type against her irritably loud keyboard. I look over to scold her for not being able to slide her fingers across instead of individually puncturing the letters but halt when I catch the dejected look on her face.

I go to open my mouth and hopefully say something that'll make her feel better but then the classroom doors open up. Instead of someone leaving for the bathroom, it's someone entering. I hear the light giggles of excitement from the neighbouring tables.

"Luca Cathans, you're ten minutes late. You know what that means." I raise my eyes from my notebook at the mention of him. Mr Locke sighs since he's forced to go behind his desk and pull out a detention slip. The older man quickly fills it out before passing it to a bored—looking Luca.

"Everyone's taking notes, go sit between..." Mr Locke's eyes scan the classroom. I make sure to look away so he doesn't assign Luca next to us. The biology room tables are ones of three, even though everyone decides to just use two. "Ms Baelene and Ms Leighton."

My heart sinks to the pit of my stomach, I feel my throat go dry as I eye Mr Locke with a type of hatred I didn't know I could experience. This better be a one—time seating arrangement I think to myself.

Luca's eyes meet mine, and I instantly look down — letting my eyes dance on how his knuckles tighten around his laptop and notebooks that he holds in his left hand.

"Well, don't treat this as a runway Mr Cathans, get over there now." I cringe at the comment, knowing Luca isn't above retaliating, even if it's with a teacher and there's a crowd of students watching.

He surprises me when he doesn't. He silently walks up to where Constance and I are seated. We're second row to the front.

When Luca's close enough, I eye Constance warningly, telling her to move over so I'm not stuck with Luca just sitting next to me. She begins to collect her things to move over a little, but it's too late Luca has brought a spare chair over from the desk next to ours and taken a seat next to me.

"Hey, Nadia." He greets. I look over briefly and nod curtly. "Your hair is different today," he comments.

My pen goes still on my paper, I raise it so the gel ink doesn't bleed through the thin sheet. When I look over, Luca's already watching me. His hazel eyes are a little bloodshot, but not warningly so.

I restrain myself from reaching towards my hair. Anger begins to brim in my stomach but he isn't wrong, but it's not a drastic difference. Not one grand enough for my friends to have picked up on anyway. I've always straightened my hair for school, however this year I'm trying out a blowout. I picked up the hairstyle while visiting New York Fashion Week last year.

"I always have it like this for school," I lie.

"Right," he nods, and I watch curiously as the cogs turn in his head as he fights himself whether to expand. "Look—" He begins after a pregnant silence. I raise my brows to indicate that I'm listening, "About yesterday, I just— I was really out of it," I keep quite, expecting for him to say more, but when I realise he isn't I begin to speak.

"Okay, that's alright," I lie through my teeth, picking up my pen again. It's not in fact alright but I don't want to talk to Luca right now, especially not when my heart races a thousand beats per minute whenever his deep eyes meet mine.

I look back up to Mr Locke who's begun to talk again. Luca doesn't bother me for the rest of the session.

He only ever looks my way when he makes small talk to Xemina Ćurković — the infamous bestfriend of Salem Whitfield's and my own personal torturer Cassie DuVall.

When the session finally finishes, I stay back to ask Mr Locke a question about something he'd explained way too fast for me to note down. I tell Con I'll meet her at the lunch table so she doesn't have to wait around for me. She'd left with a stiff smile that had me unsure whether or not to stay back, but I fought against the turmoil.

I can't risk being behind on day one of class.

"I'm so sorry to hold you back Mr Locke but I just had a question about what enzyme is used in extension?"

Mr Locke smiles wide, and shrugs off my apology. "You know Ms Baelene, you should never apologise for seeking knowledge." My cheeks burn at that, apologising is kind of a second nature for me. "Good question as well, it's tag polymarase."

"Oh, of course, I make a mental note to dot it down in my notebook later." I smile, "Thank you."

"Any time," he replies with a nod of his own, before disappearing behind his desk to collect his things as well.

I hoist my books higher up across my chest when I walk out of the class. I freeze however when I notice who's standing across from me in the hallway.

Luca's leaning against one of the lockers, his hazel eyes fixated on me. He frustratedly even looks good underneath the unflattering overhead lighting of the hallway. Luca's soft—almond eyes are a constant juxtaposition the rest of him. Most importantly, to the constant downturn of his lips.

Behind me, I hear Mr. Locke asks if anything is wrong, I offer him a shake of the head before swallowing down my fret. Even my hands go clammy against my books, I make a silent prayer that they don't slip from between my fingers. That's the last thing I need.

I don't stop in front of Luca when I resume walking, In fact I pay no mind to him as I slip between the crowded bodies and head into the direction of my locker.

"Nadia!" His prominent voice calls out as I get lost in the hallway.

The mixture of Chanel No 5 and whatever trending boy perfume reminisces on the carmine red uniform that has Sterling's crest embroidered into it. Like all the schools in the district, Sterling have fallen trap to the overly done emblem.

I've always felt a superficial partiality to ours which includes; A horse, that represents the school's dignity, a daintily drawn castle showcasing security and wealth, then a fleurs-de-lis that signifies the French ties the school has.

The Leighton's — despite having owned the school since whatever ridiculous time in the 1920's that it opened up aren't French themselves and yet have added the fleurs-de-lis as an ode to the prior generations's Delvaùx family who always seem to have a part in every business and therefore gain from it.

The last symbol is the silver sword that is displayed overtop the other symbols in an across like style. The crest is then finished off with the cursive infamous Sterling Academy saying: tenetur ad vitam. Which is directly translated to, is bound for life.

It's reminder to the wearer of the uniform. Despite the cult-like feel, I've always thought that the message was taintedly sweet and something we could look back on and laugh about at our ten-year high school reunion because of how odd it was.

Only then, I would be much more confident and could sucker—punch anyone that decided to mess with either me or my friends. Cassie DuVall and Luca Cathans included.

The crest could be found among almost the entirety of the school's uniform including: blazers, blouses, socks, pants, shirts, sportswear, bags, bows and even headbands. That's all I'm seeing now as I attempt to flee from the unignorable boy. Horse. Sword. Castle. Fleurs-de-lis. Horse. Sword. Castle. Fleurs-de-lis. Horse. Sword. Castle. Fleurs-de-lis.

My eyes begin to burn with the images as I shoot everyone who eyes me with widened gazes and a sheepish smile before disappearing into them. The fairly large population of students wearing the girls assigned uniform in the hallways has me on the brink of thankfulness. I blend in perfectly with all of them. Luca's voice gets more distant by the second and I slow down when I can't hear him at all.

I catch a familiar mop of blonde hair flowing in the distance and want to cry in relief when I reach Bailey. "Bailey," I breathe out, she turns around from her locker and faces me. By her bright smile you'd think we hadn't seen eachother all day.

Bailey's the funniest girl I know and with cheeks always tainted a crimson shade of red you'd think she was the one laughing the most, rather than the one posing the jokes. Her chubbier cheeks are a reflection of the one's she had when we were kids.

Her joy dies down as she scans my probably flushed face.

"You've got to help me I'm trying to hide from Luca and I—"

"Hide from me?" My stomach flips at the voice, Bailey's blue eyes widen and it feels as if the crowded hallway has gone silent at Luca's arrival.

I turn around begrudgingly. There's a pleased-seeming grin pulling at his lips that he doesn't quite entertain. "Am I some big bad wolf?" He asks, teasing.

I pause for a moment, not sure where this is going. Just twenty minutes ago he was silent and kind of gloomy. I look around, but everyone snaps their heads away as if to pretend like they aren't watching us.

It's then that it all clicks, he's acting like this because people are watching. No...that can't be right, this is Luca, why would he just put on a show?

He's got a reputation to uphold, my consciousness sings songs. For what it's worth it does kind of make sense.

Luca doesn't get silent and meek, he becomes loud and brash. He's labelled the 'entitled' for a reason and now? As he stands at his full height with an almost flirtatious grin pulling at his lips I fully understand the nickname.

"Of course I'm not afraid," I lie, talking quietly so others don't pick up on what I'm saying. I suddenly feel all my shyness overcome me.

When no one was watching I'd felt kind of confident, like I could deny him of anything, but, with eyes on us it all melts away.

"Then come with me," I open my mouth to tell him no when he slides in a sweet,
"Please."

I momentarily flicker my my eyes closed and do the dumbest thing I can. I nod.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He says one word and I agree? He says one thing and he's got me? I stand up straight and follow Luca's lead.

This is for the plan, I remind myself.

Luca doesn't take me far, just behind the school where some of the students usually hang to smoke. It's not a private place per se, but not many people really visit it because of the slick with ash air.

Plus, if any of the teachers catch you here it's a pretty much immediate detention. There's only one person there right now and I assume it's because no one really wants to be apart from their friends on the first day.

Caleb Delvaùx doesn't try to cover up the fact that he's currently smoking when he hears us approach. We could be anyone but the taller boy doesn't even flinch. He's standing and staring down at a book as he blows out a steady stream of smoke.

"Luca," he greets calmly, without ever detaching his eyes from his novel. Caleb doesn't usually act all laissez-faire but it's a welcomed change from his usual stoic self.

"Caleb," Luca acknowledges, there must be something in Luca's voice that I fail to gauge at because Caleb looks up from tone alone.

I try to catch the name of the novel but the cover is facing the ground and the dark—brunette—haired boy has it turned away.

When I look up from the book, Caleb's gaze is on me. His green eyes eye me quizically, and I cross my arms over my body — seeming much more confident than I really am. I don't know why I even bother, Caleb is so infuriatingly smart he probably knows I'm lying.

"Do you mind?" Luca asks, which has Caleb's notorious green eyes flicker over to him.

The all—angular boy shrugs nonchalantly, before closing the novel and simultaneously dropping the cigarette on the floor only to stub it out with the tip of his black leather shoes.

"I was just finishing up." He announces and surprises me when he leans down to pick up his cigarette. Once resuming to his full height, Caleb nods at the both of us in goodbye before leaving.

"I didn't know Caleb smoked," I wonder aloud, eyeing his retreating back as he heads back into the school.

"Picked it up when he went back to France in tenth grade," Luca answers.

I nod in acknowledgement, growing silent as I wait for whatever he has planned to say to me. If I'm being honest nothing will make me feel more better than if he were to cancel the entirety of this thing.

Being around Luca this much in the past two days isn't something I'd blindly label as fate, but rather a warning of sorts. If I go along with his plan, much more of this will have to exist. I'm not sure If I'm ready for that. If I'll ever be ready for that. I know it makes me sound weak, but being nothing to Luca is almost as bad as being something to him.

"Look..." He begins again, obviously not satisfied with his first version in class. "This isn't an apology."

I raise a brow. "What a great way to start one," I accidentally say aloud.

There's a twitch at his lips but he doesn't let it form a full smile. "I just wanted to talk about yesterday. I was out of line."

"For?"

"When I said that you had a crush on Reid, it wasn't fair of me to say that,"

"That's why you're here?" He nods, "I don't believe you. I think you're a liar."

"How am I a liar?" He scoffs, cheeks turning flush at the accusation. For someone who always seems to be so broody Luca is such a shit—show when it comes to concealing his cheeks. It's been a trait of his since we were kids.

"Tell me why you're really here Luca. If you felt bad for yesterday don't you think you would have said it in the two hours we had in class?" That does the job of shutting him up.

"I didn't mean to get so—" He swallows, dragging a rogue hand down his face as if he can't believe what he's about to say. I lean in subconsciously. "I didn't mean to get so emotional." He finally lets out.

So this is what it's about. "Emotional?"

He nods his head.

I begin to laugh, but it isn't out of humour, or mocking. It's out of something much more uglier, real, human; hurt.

"You seek me out after however many years—" four, "To try and justify yourself for tearing up?"

"I wasn't tearing up."

"I can't believe you, Luca!" Is he joking right now? "Do you know how many other things you should be explaining right now? How many other things you should be apologising for?" Has he forgotten everything he's done? Does he think I've forgotten?

"You came to my house, I didn't come to yours. You think I wanted you to see me? Let alone in that state?" He scoffs at me with disgust. "Don't kid yourself."

I blink back the burning sensation in my eyes and swallow the lump that's fighting to rise in my throat. "You could have ignored me today, don't act like you're above it." I say, with much less fight than I'd had in me prior.

"I didn't ignore you, Nadia."

"You pushed everyone away when she died," It's the truth as well, not that I hold that against him. When his mom died Luca was a mess, what fourteen—year—old boy wouldn't be? It's just that he was cruel in his greif and it was me that was his scapegoat. "Every day I'd come over and it was you that wouldn't let me in. You that pushed me away. You that had to have the last word. Was that not ignoring me?"

"I was upset."

And I wasn't? Of course, I acknowledge Luca's pain. He loved his mom more than anyone I know loves theirs, but I've had years to look back on how he treated me, how he made me feel and it wasn't right. You don't treat your friends like that, let alone the one you supposedly 'loved' most.

"You told me—" I stop, not wanting to put myself through this when at school. "I'm not doing this right now." I sigh, and turn around to walk away from him.

"Come on, Nadia," he calls out, "Don't do this, don't walk away."

I turn around just short of my hand falling onto the steel handle. "You want to talk to me? Invite me out for a nice lunch. You don't get to chase me down the hallway and resolve the past four years of issues you have here."

__________

Bonjour Papillons

Here's a little bonus update due to me starting school today. School isn't what I initially expected (since it's a new one) but it's more fun than I thought.