Chapter 51 Eyes Around
Kaitlyn stepped closer, Naomi right behind her, their heels tapping sharply against the tiled floor, echoing through the hall like a slow-approaching verdict.
She halted once she reached Jamie.
Jamie turned gradually, eyes lifting to meet hers. His smirk thinned.
“What are you waiting for?” Kaitlyn asked, head tilting slightly. “Run along. You’re supposed to be with Evan.”
Jamie broke eye contact immediately, jaw tightening. His gaze flicked toward me before he walked off in stiff silence.
I exhaled, shoulders lowering. “Thank you… for that,” I said, voice softer now.
“No issue,” she replied, coat shifting as she turned toward the voting chart.
Her eyes slid to the empty box, holding only a single vote, Julian’s vote card, crisp, untouched, and brand new.
She clicked her tongue once. “Looks like you’re less famous in Gravenmoor Academy.”
“I’ll get through it,” I said, nodding slowly, convincing myself more than her.
“How?” she countered, arms folding neatly. “After today, you only have tomorrow left.”
She was right. I could still participate in the competition and take all their money if I won, but I’d have less fame, fewer fans, and that would drag down my star rating.
That was why I needed votes. And bets. And students who are willing to look my way.
“Lexie!”
A bright, masculine voice called from across the hall, warm and impossibly cheerful.
Kaitlyn’s coat swayed as I leaned slightly to look past her shoulder.
Vincent stood there smiling, hand raised high, waving like a man greeting a crowd, not a crisis.
“Vincent!” I called back, arm lifting to wave toward him.
He walked over, a grin hooked on one side of his lips.
“Vincent, how are you doing since after the trial?” I asked, fingers brushing damp hair from my face.
He planted both hands on his hips and sighed dramatically. “I’m good.”
Then his eyes lifted toward Oliver as he grabbed his bag and turned to leave.
“Hey,” Vincent said, hand raising again.
Oliver glanced left and right, confirming the greeting was meant for him, then offered a quick, lopsided smile and a small wave before exiting.
Kaitlyn tracked him until he disappeared, a slow blink following. “Your friend’s cute.”
“Oliver?” I asked, brow lifting.
She turned back toward me, shrugging once. “Oliver is his name? It’s cute too.”
Vincent faced Naomi, hand lifting shyly this time. “Hi,” he said, barely audible.
Naomi sighed and rolled her eyes upward. “Can we leave now? I’m sick of this place,” she said, shifting her weight impatiently.
Kaitlyn dragged in a breath and turned to her. “You can leave if you want.”
Naomi froze, caught off-guard. Her expression twisted like someone handed the wrong answer key.
She didn’t respond.
Kaitlyn muttered, “I hate that I’m doing this,” and slipped a hand into her coat.
“What are you doing?” Naomi asked, leaning forward slightly.
Kaitlyn withdrew her vote card, fingers holding it firmly. “Voting.”
Naomi’s brows shot up. “Since when did you start voting for a council member?”
Kaitlyn flicked her cold side-eye. “That’s none of your business.” Then she leaned toward me, hand extending. “Here, Lexie.”
She dropped the card into the box.
Naomi’s lips parted, stunned into silence.
Kaitlyn turned to leave.
“I hope this helps,” she said over her shoulder. “By tomorrow, I hope you have more votes.”
I stiffened. “Uh… yes… thank you so much,” I stammered, hand lifting awkwardly before dropping.
Sam, Stephen, and Reis saw it.
They all saw it.
Kaitlyn walked out without stopping at any other council stand, especially not Evander’s.
The others exchanged tense glances.
Naomi trailed behind her, visibly furious.
“Did you see that?” Stephen asked, mouth still hanging open like an unfinished sentence.
“Just pretend you didn’t,” Reis said, turning back toward his voters.
“I can’t do that,” Sam muttered, sliding a clipboard closer to a student at her table. “I sense the three of them will split because of that scholarship kid. Imagine, Kaitlyn didn’t bother looking at Evan, or even voting…”
Reis cut in sharply. “Enough, Sam. We shouldn’t poke our noses and get into trouble.”
Vincent stepped forward and dropped his card into the box.
I sagged back into my seat. “Thank you, Vincent.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said, shrugging lightly. “Kaitlyn must really like you. I mean, she voted for you. She turned into a good person.”
I shook my head slowly. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. Kaitlyn is good.”
Vincent barked a laugh. “Don’t say that out loud. Kaitlyn is like a rebellious queen here. No one can even look her in the eye.”
I lifted my chin. “People change,” I said.
“Rare for someone like Kait,” Vincent replied.
Before I could respond, a group of students, nine of them, approached in synchronized steps.
One spoke first, voice cracking faintly when saying my name.
“Hello. You must be Lexie… Lambert.”
I stood immediately, palms raising in mock surrender. “Yes, it’s me. Don’t be afraid. I’m harmless.”
“And peaceful like a white dove,” Vincent added, hand draping over my shoulder proudly.
The first student swallowed hard and glanced toward the growing crowd behind him.
“We are…” he hesitated, shifting his feet slightly. “Some of us are ninth graders. We’re here to vote…”
“...for you,” another finished.
I laughed, light and sudden, almost disbelieving.
Then I pointed toward the box. “Sure. There it is.” And one by one, they stepped forward, dropping their cards into the box.
More students arrived, enough to build a second line curling beside the first.
Vincent leaned in, plucking vote cards from nervous hands with exaggerated flair. He shook his head once and scoffed, lips pulling into a crooked grin.
“Looks like Kaitlyn’s had some effect,” he said, lifting a shoulder. “Thanks to her,” he added, then let out a low chuckle.
A laugh slipped from me too, quiet but genuine.
Then my eyes lifted.
My gaze drifted toward the hall’s threshold, where Oliver stood, half-shadowed under the overhang, bag slung loosely at his side.
The ninth-graders who had voted for me clustered around him now, excitement buzzing in their posture. Oliver raised a hand, palm open, meeting theirs mid-air in a crisp high-five.
One after the other, smack, smack, smack.
Their friends stood nearby, bouncing on the balls of their feet, already pulling out more vote cards, already calling others over.
My breath stalled.
That was when it clicked.
He was the one.
He was the one bringing them.
I swallowed once, gaze fixed on him now, sharp, steady, realizing.
“He was the one…” I whispered.
Another high-five landed, Oliver grinning, bright, effortless, victorious in a way the betting chart hadn’t predicted.
And the line behind me? It kept growing.