Chapter 9 The Beginning of War

“You’re late.”

Monica stood with a triumphant smirk, her eyes slicing through Stacey like a blade.

“What? I left the class the moment it was over. Weren’t you there too?” Stacey asked, genuine confusion spilling out of her. Her voice held that startled, sharp edge — the kind people get when reality doesn’t match what they expect.

Monica’s smirk widened.

“What are you even doing here?” Stacey asked.

“Doing my job,” Monica answered, grinning like she’d been waiting all day for this.

“Now come with me.”

“What?” Stacey halted, stunned.

“You’re coming,” Monica said, her tone curling with threat, “or should I report you to the school disciplinary board?” Her voice dropped low and dangerous, like she already knew she’d win.

“What is going on here?” Stacey’s voice faltered as she followed Monica, who didn’t even look back. She walked very fast, forcing Stacey to jog just to keep up.

They moved deeper down the hall, past the bathroom, toward a staircase that looked forgotten by the school—dusty, and dim. Stacey’s pulse quickened.

“Where are you taking me?” she whispered.

Monica only threw a wicked little smirk over her shoulder and kept going.

After a few minutes, they pushed through a door that opened out to the basketball field. For a brief moment, Stacey’s heartbeat steadied—until Monica bypassed the court completely and led her behind it.

They stopped in front of an open space coated in algae. Slimy water dripped down the walls, the air thick with a damp, rotten smell. The ground squished wetly under Stacey’s shoes.

“Clear this whole space,” Monica said, turning to face her.

“This isn’t even part of the school,” Stacey murmured, biting the inside of her cheek as irritation and anger boiled under her skin.

“This is behind the basketball court, dummy.” Monica folded her arms tightly.

“But nobody comes here,” Stacey argued, gesturing around the filthy area.

“And who told you that?” Monica sneered. “People come here. We only stopped because it got dirty. Now that we have a cleaner…” Her grin sharpened as she pointed to her. “…we can use it again.”

“I’m going to report this to the disciplinary board. I didn’t sign up for this.”

Monica burst into manic laughter, a high, unhinged sound that scraped down Stacey’s spine.

“Let me see you try,” Monica said, leaning in. “Maybe I’ll ask them to give you more days of supervision under me.”

“What did I ever do to you?” Heat spread through Stacey’s body as she spoke, her voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.

“You keep saying the wrong things. You’re too slow.” Monica’s eyes glittered with cruelty. Stacey froze, unsure where this was going.

“You’re supposed to be begging,” Monica continued. “Apologizing for offending me.”

“Are you kidding me? If anyone should apologize, it’s you, Monica. What did I do to you? I just came here and you’re already after my life.”

“That’s the problem,” Monica hissed. “You just came into this school and instead of asking questions, you’re acting like you belong.”

“Monica, don’t…” Stacey bit the inside of her cheek so hard she tasted blood.

“Don’t?” Monica mocked, leaning forward and holding a hand to her ear. “I’m listening. Speak.”

Tears stung Stacey’s eyes as she glanced around. Water crawled down the algae-covered walls, the smell making her stomach churn. Everything looked wet, rotten, and wrong.

Her stomach twisted violently. She clutched it and ran to a corner, barely making it before she vomited, the egg she ate earlier splashing onto the ground. Monica’s laughter boomed behind her, loud and delighted.

Stacey’s legs trembled. She knew she couldn’t handle this. She did the only thing she could think of.

“Monica, please,” she said, breathing shakily. “I’m sorry. I promise I won’t ever get on your bad side again. I can’t do this.” She gestured helplessly at the filth. “Give me something else. Not this. Please.”

Monica placed a hand dramatically over her chest. “Awww, I’m soooo touched.” She wiped imaginary tears. “But it’s too late. If you had begged ten minutes ago, I might have listened.”

Her smile sharpened like broken glass.

“Clean it up. And be quick.”

Rage—hot, sudden, and uncontrollable—burst through Stacey. Before she could even process it, she grabbed Monica’s wrist.

Monica froze.

Then her expression twisted, and she started screaming—loud, dramatic, over the top of her voice.

Stacey immediately let go, panic flooding her.

Monica’s hand shot out instantly, her fingers tangled in Stacey’s hair, yanking it brutally.

“Trust me,” Monica hissed, her voice low and venomous, “you do not want to mess with me in this school.”

Stacey cried out as the pain shot through her scalp. She grabbed Monica’s hands, trying to pry them off, but Monica pulled harder.

“Let me go!” Stacey snapped, pinching Monica’s arm.

Monica yelped and finally released her.

Stacey staggered backward, nearly falling. They stared at each other like two storms ready to collide again.

“You better get started,” Monica snarled. “Because this is just the beginning.”

She gave Stacey one last venomous look, then turned sharply and walked away, her shoes thumping like victory drums.

Stacey clenched her fists so tight her nails dug into her palms. She bit her tongue to stop the scream building in her throat as the algae stink wrapped around her like punishment.