Chapter 20 Chapter 20

Chapter 20 Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Henna's POV

"Why should I run?" I dare to ask.

The question is barely out of my mouth before Caroline scrambles up from the floor, her hair matted with gravy. She grabs my arm with a strength born of pure terror and begins dragging me toward the exit. I struggle, trying to yank my hand away from her slick, sauce-covered grip.

I finally snap my hand away once we’ve burst through the double doors and scrambled down the hall. "What's wrong with them? Why are we running?" I demand, my chest heaving. "What is wrong with her? Why are you so scared, and why did you have to apologize?"

My eyes rake over her. She’s a mess. The smell of the stew is cloying in the narrow hallway. "You look—"

I reach out to touch her shoulder, but she flinches away as if I’m the one who’s dangerous.

"Do you know the uproar you just caused?!" she shrieks, her voice cracking. "Do you know what you did back there?!"

"What did I do? She poured hot stew on you!" I yell back. My own adrenaline is making my hands shake. "I was helping you!"

"And? Did you have to be reckless? You're in a world that you don't understand, and all you chose to do is poke at the needles!"

"Caroline, she was rude! Look at what she—"

"What she did is not what's important!" Caroline cuts me off, tears finally carving tracks through the dried broth on her cheeks. "What's important is the fact that you have to hide because you have invited a truckload of witches into our room! They're going to get you!"

I snort, the absurdity of it finally hitting me. "What are you saying? Witches?" I shake my head, a bitter laugh escaping me. "Is that what they call themselves? Is that what they disguise themselves as in order to bully people? Some high school cult?"

"What?" Caroline stares at me like I’ve lost my mind.

"Let them come!" I snap, crossing my arms.

"Hell no, Henna. We are doomed tonight."

"What?"

"You didn't just provoke Yellow or invite all the other witches under her to our room," she whispers, looking over her shoulder as if the walls themselves were listening. "You're risking spoiling Olenna's night. Do you know what that means? If her birthday party is ruined because of a cafeteria brawl, she won't just report you. She’ll erase you."

I close my eyes and try to inhale, trying to make sense of the madness, but I don't understand a single thing she’s saying. The "witches," the "Queen," the "Yellow" girl...it’s all too much.

The sudden, violent roar of an engine shatters the silence of the hallway.

I don't even have time to turn before Andre’s bike skids to a halt right at my feet. He doesn't even wait for the kickstand. He vaults off the machine, his movement a blur of leather and fury. Before I can blink, his hand is hauling me by the neck, the force of his momentum crashing me back against the stone wall.

"Can't you just stay still without causing problems?!" he yells.

His hand is wrapped around my throat...not squeezing enough to kill, but enough that I’m choking on the sudden lack of air. His face is inches from mine, his eyes swirling with that terrifying, predatory gold I saw in the cafeteria.

"How dare you provoke the witches?!" he growls, his voice vibrating through my entire frame.

I claw at his wrist, my boots dangling an inch off the ground. I can see the veins popping in his neck. He isn't just angry; he’s losing control.

"Let... go..." I wheeze out, my vision blurring at the edges.

"Dre!!!" Ric’s voice booms down the hallway, follow by the sound of his frantic footsteps. "You will kill her! Dre, let her go!"

The pressure on my throat didn't vanish, but the predatory gold in Andre’s eyes flickers for a fraction of a second. He is writhing with a fury so physical it felt like the air around us is vibrating. It is a raw, animalistic energy that make every instinct in my body scream danger.

"Does she have any idea what she’s done?" Andre snarls, his voice a guttural rasp that doesn't sound human. He slams his free hand against the stone next to my head, the impact echoing like a gunshot.

"She splashed water on a High Priestess's daughter! In front of the entire cafeteria! On the day of Olenna's birthday"

"She didn't know!" Ric skids to a halt beside us, his hands raise in a placating gesture. "And clearly, Yellow started it. They have been picking on her all morning. Andre, please... calm down. Look at her face. You’re choking her!"

Yellow?...

Andre’s gaze drops to mine. I am gasping, my face heating up as my lungs burns for oxygen.  Slowly, his fingers uncurls, and the weight of his hand leaves my throat.

I slump against the wall, sliding down until my knees hit the floor. I cough violently, clutching my neck, my vision swimming with dark spots.

"Get her out of here, Ric," Andre commanded, his back to me now. He is shaking, his fists clenched so tight as he leaves after casting a glance at Caroline.

Tears appear at the corners of my eyes as Ric stops in front of me. He reaches out his hand, his expression softened by a guilt that shouldn't even be his to carry. "Let me help you up."

"Your friend tried to kill me," I say, my voice cracking. I’m not quite believing that Dre put his hands on me simply because he thinks I’m ruining his girlfriend’s birthday. The ghost of his fingers still feels like a cold brand around my neck.

"We need to get out of here fast before we get into more trouble," Ric urges, his eyes darting toward the cafeteria doors as if he expects the walls to start bleeding witches.

Witches? What do they mean by that?

"More trouble? How?" I snap, though the bravado is paper-thin. "I threw water! I didn't set the building on fire!"

"I think these questions should be asked when you’re safe," he says firmly. He helps me to my feet, his grip steadying my wobbling knees, and guides me toward his bike parked in a shadowed corner of the courtyard. He hands me a helmet, the headgear tightening around my head and muffling the chaotic sounds of the school. He climbs on, and we roar away leaving the school premises. 

We pull up behind the diner. We get down, and he turns to me immediately, his face grimmer than I’ve ever seen it.

"I have one thing for you to know," he starts, his voice low and cutting. "And that is, in this school, you’re one of the poorest people. And do you know what it means to be poor here, Henna?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask, wiping the stray tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand.

"You have no rights to react when you have no power over anyone. You're nothing but a lowest ranked student."