Clara walked into school the next morning, feeling the heavy weight of stress and uncertainty bearing down on her. The whole arrangement with Henry, her father’s insistence, and the future she was being forced into clouded her thoughts. As she reached her locker to grab her books, she caught sight of Marcus Hartman and his usual group of friends loitering nearby.
Marcus leaned against the lockers, smirking as he watched her. "Hey, Miller," he called out, his voice laced with mockery. "Heard you got yourself a shiny new Bentley. Who’s the sugar daddy?"
Clara stiffened but kept her eyes focused on the books in her hands, hoping if she ignored him, they’d lose interest and move on.
But Marcus wasn’t going to let up that easily. "Come on, don’t be shy. Is it your billionaire uncle? I mean, your family’s broke, right? Gotta do what you gotta do, I guess." He and his friends laughed, feeding off each other's cruelty.
Clara’s hands shook as she shoved her books into her bag. She tried to block them out, but the words cut deep, their insinuations stinging. Marcus stepped closer, lowering his voice but ensuring his words hit hard. "Bet you’ve been cozying up to him. Get the family out of that sinking hole, huh?"
Something inside her broke. Without another word, Clara slammed her locker shut and bolted down the hallway, ignoring their taunts echoing behind her. She pushed through the door to the girls' bathroom, rushed to the farthest stall, and locked the door. As soon as she was alone, her composure crumbled. She collapsed onto the closed toilet seat, buried her face in her hands, and cried.
The pressure, the shame, the cruel words—it was all too much. She felt trapped in a world she couldn’t control, being forced into situations she didn't want but had no power to stop. For a moment, she let herself break down, releasing all the emotions she had kept bottled inside.
As Clara sat crying in the bathroom, she heard the door creak open. She quickly turned away, trying to hide her tears. The soft click of heels on the tiled floor grew closer until she felt a presence beside her. "Are you okay?" a gentle voice asked.
Clara sniffled, wiping her face hastily. "I’m fine," she replied, her voice shaky.
The girl crouched beside her, her blue eyes searching Clara’s face with genuine concern. "Those guys in the hallway... were they messing with you?" she asked softly.
Clara hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, but it’s nothing new. I’m used to it," she said, trying to brush it off.
The girl sighed sympathetically. "I’m sorry," she said, her voice soothing. Clara finally took a proper look at her—pale blonde hair that shimmered under the fluorescent lights, big blue eyes framed by perfectly done lashes, and porcelain skin that looked flawless. She had a soft accent that Clara couldn’t quite place, but it only added to her delicate, doll-like appearance.
"Are you Clara Miller?" the girl asked, her gaze still locked on Clara’s tear-streaked face.
Clara blinked, surprised. "Yes... how do you know?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
The girl smiled faintly. "I’m Elena Caldwell," she said simply.
Hearing the Caldwell name startled Clara. She stared at her, processing the information. "Caldwell... like, related to Henry Caldwell?"
Elena nonchalantly nodded. "Yes, that’s my dad," she replied, then added with a small smile, "And I believe you already know the rest of my family, right?"
Clara nodded, feeling a sudden sense of comfort knowing who Elena was. "Yeah... our fathers are trying to... make some arrangements," she said, choosing her words carefully.
Elena nodded again, her expression calm. "Don’t worry, I know all about the marriage arrangement they're trying to set up between you and my big brother," she said casually, as if it were no big deal.
Clara was oddly comforted by Elena’s nonchalance. "I’ve never seen you around," she said, curiosity creeping into her voice. "When did you move here?"
Elena sighed, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. "Today’s my first day, actually. I used to live in Russia with my mother for the past few years, but now my father wants me around again," she explained before pausing, her gaze softening. "Why did those boys make you cry like this?"
Clara hesitated, then shrugged, trying to sound indifferent. "They’re stupid," she said, but her voice betrayed her. "People at school love to pick on me because of my family’s bankruptcy."
Elena rolled her eyes, her expression hardening for the first time. "Those boys suck," she said simply, her tone flat.
Clara managed a small smile. "Thank you for being so nice," she said softly. "I have math class now, though..."
Elena shook her head. "Wait, you can’t go back to class with your face like that," she said with a touch of concern. She reached into her Prada tote and pulled out a small makeup bag. Clara watched, slightly taken aback, as Elena fished out a toner tissue and began gently dabbing it over Clara’s face. Her touch was soft, almost sisterly.
Elena then grabbed some mascara and applied just the right amount to Clara’s lashes. Next, she reached for a Dior lip oil, delicately applying it to Clara’s lips. Finally, she pulled out a hair oil, smoothing it through Clara’s hair, making it glossy and neat.
Clara was stunned, unsure how to react but feeling oddly comforted. She couldn’t stop Elena even if she wanted to.
Elena stepped back and smiled. "There," she said proudly. "Now you’re ready to go back."
Clara looked at herself in the mirror and couldn’t help but smile. She felt more confident, her tears forgotten. "Thank you," she said sincerely, appreciating Elena’s kindness.
Elena waved it off with a smile. "No problem. Girls help girls out," she said. Then, with a wink, she added, "Besides, we might become sisters soon. We should be good friends."