Chapter 3 : The Cafeteria Brawl

Danilo’s Pov

Mrs. Warren leaned forward and pulled a bright yellow flyer from a stack on her desk. She handed it to me. Spring Musical Auditions – “West Side Story” – Open to All Students.

“I know your schedule’s packed, but this could be a great opportunity. You’re a natural speaker. Creative. Charismatic. You might surprise yourself.”

I stared at the flyer. “The musical?”

Why does this keep popping up?

Her voice softened. “Antonia told me, you are a very good singer.”

I looked up, startled.

“As the co-director of the musical,” she continued, “I implore you to at least audition. This is your last year here. Don’t let it pass by without doing something that’s yours. Something you might actually enjoy.”

I held the flyer like it was on fire. I thought of my father, and what he would do once he got wind of this. He wouldn't hesitate to drag me through the coals for this.

I met Mrs. Warren’s gaze. “When are auditions?”

“Today after school. I can talk to the drama teacher and make sure there’s a spot for you.”

I nodded slowly. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

A smile broke across her face. “Good. I think you’ll be glad you did. You’ll be a great fit,”

As I left the office, flyer in hand and heart racing, I wondered what my father’s reaction would be, and contemplated whether to tell him or not? Who am I kidding, he is going to find out anyway.

—--

—-

I sat in the cafeteria, picking at the edge of my sandwich with the appetite of someone sentenced to a firing squad. My mind was still spinning, reeling from the decision I made in Mrs. Warren's office an hour earlier. Auditioning for the school musical and joining the drama club.

I almost cried at the thought of what awaited me at home. Hector Ramos wouldn't condone his only surviving child to be a song and dance man.

He raised doctors. Lawyers. Men with power and prestige. Rodrigo had been all of that and more, the golden son, the dream child. But Rodrigo was gone now—burned away in the same twisted wreckage that had taken my mother. And all that was left was me—the wrong son. The soft one. The one who liked to read, listen to musicals, sing and dance along to them when no one was home.

I gripped the edge of the table harder, pretending I didn’t see the bright yellow West Side Story flyer peeking out of my backpack. The edges were already wrinkled from how many times I had pulled it out just to stare at it.

Across from me, Antonia was mid-chew, rattling on about her friend’s chaotic love life. “—and then she found out he was sleeping with her cousin, again, but instead of dumping him she made a spreadsheet of the times he cheated and is now tracking his progress like he’s in rehab.”

I blinked. “That’s... impressive?”

Antonia snorted. “It’s deranged. But you’re not listening anyway.”

“I am,” I muttered. “Just distracted.”

“Still thinking about the audition?” she asked, eyeing him knowingly.

I sighed, resting his chin on his palm. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Your dad doesn’t even need to know.”

“He always finds out.”

Before Antonia could reply, a sudden thud jolted their table. I flinched just as a familiar voice growled behind him.

“You think you’re funny, huh?”

I didn’t have to turn around to recognize the voice—it was the jock who’d slammed me into the lockers earlier that morning. Only this time, the cafeteria had gone quiet. Forks and trays paused mid-air as the tension at their table thickened.

He stood there, looming over me like a storm cloud in a letterman jacket, his fists balled and his face flushed with anger. “You fed me some bullshit story about ‘Robbie’ thinking you would get away with it. Who the hell do you think you are?”

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. How the hell did he figure it out so fast?

My pulse spiked. I could feel eyes on me—everybody watching, waiting. The whole room seemed to tilt sideways.

Antonia stood up so fast her chair screeched across the floor. “Back off, Chase.”

Chase ignored her and grabbed a fistful of my maroon shirt, yanking me half out of my seat. “You think lying to me makes you some kind of smartass, huh?”

I winced, heart pounding. “I wasn’t trying to—”

Before I could finish, Antonia’s voice rang out like a shot. “Let him go, Chase.”

When Chase didn’t move, she did. Without hesitation, she reeled her leg back and delivered a swift, brutal kick straight to his groin.

The effect was immediate.

Chase let out a strangled gasp and crumpled to the floor, wheezing like a deflated balloon. I stumbled backward, chest heaving, as the entire cafeteria erupted into gasps, laughter, and applause.

I watched as Antonia stood over him with a cool, satisfied expression, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face like she hadn’t just incapacitated a 200-pound linebacker.

Chase clutched his crotch and groaned. “This... isn’t over...bitch.”

Antonia crouched to his eye level, her voice as sharp as broken glass. “Any time you want round two, I’ll be waiting. Next time I will aim higher.”

I stared at her in shock, gratitude, and slight awe. Though, I had no reason to be shocked, this was how things wore ever since Rodrigo died, Antonia has been my protector.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

She turned to him, shrugging. “Please. That was therapeutic.”

But the feeling of relief was short-lived. Something pulled my gaze across the cafeteria—to a table near the windows where a small group of students sat, laughing.

Carter Hayes was there.

Casually leaning back in his chair, a smug smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He had one arm draped around a pretty brunette in a cheerleader uniform, while another girl whispered something in his ear that made him laugh, an easy, disarming sound that didn’t match the cold intensity I had seen in his eyes earlier.

Then the brunette leaned in and kissed Carter on the cheek.

Something in me twisted.

Not jealousy exactly. But something uncomfortable. Irritation maybe. Why am I feeling this way? I have known him for four years now, and have had a crush on him all these years, and I know he is straight so why the hell are my feelings intensified today?

I tore my gaze away.

“Come on,” Antonia said, grabbing her tray. “Let’s get out of here before Chase grows a new pair.”

I followed her, but the heat burning in my chest didn’t fade.