Chapter 91 Bad luck, worse feeling
Lenora didn’t want to think about yesterday anymore.
The school already did that for her.
Everywhere she walked, people lowered their voices like her name had weight attached to it now. Not gossip. Not rumor. Something closer to assumption.
And she hated that shift.
Kylen noticed it too the moment he met her outside the lockers.
“You’re getting that look again,” he said.
“What look?” she asked.
“The one where people act like they already decided who you are.”
Lilibeth arrived late, tying her hair up as she walked.
“I swear this school wakes up bored and chooses violence,” she muttered.
Kylen glanced at her. “That’s not new.”
“It feels worse today,” she replied.
The hockey boy was already there, leaning near the corridor wall like he belonged to the space more than the school itself.
He looked at Lenora first.
Then Kylen.
Then Lilibeth.
“You all look like you didn’t sleep,” he said.
Kylen sighed. “You talk too much for someone who never says anything useful.”
The boy smirked slightly. “You still listen.”
Lenora didn’t waste time.
“Something’s off again,” she said.
The boy nodded immediately. “It will keep being off.”
Kylen frowned. “That’s not helpful.”
“It’s honest,” he replied.
Lilibeth folded her arms. “Everyone keeps talking like something bigger is happening, but no one says what.”
The boy looked at her. “Because it’s not one thing.”
Kylen stepped slightly closer. “Then what is it?”
The boy paused.
Then glanced toward the hallway where students were moving in groups again.
“People deciding things they shouldn’t be deciding,” he said.
Lenora followed his gaze.
And saw it.
Something in between.
Like everyone was reacting to something no one officially said out loud.
Then she saw Pamela again.
Walking with two students.
Laughing slightly.
Like nothing had ever happened.
Like she hadn’t been the center of anything.
Kylen noticed Lenora’s focus.
“She’s doing it again,” he said.
Lilibeth frowned. “Doing what?”
“Acting like she didn’t change anything,” he replied.
Lenora watched Pamela pass them.
This time, Pamela didn’t look at her.
That should’ve felt like relief.
It didn’t.
It felt deliberate.
The hockey boy spoke quietly.
“She’s being placed differently every day,” he said.
Kylen shot him a look. “Stop talking like that.”
The boy shrugged. “It’s still happening even if you don’t like the wording.”
Lilibeth exhaled. “So what, she’s just moving through people now?”
The boy nodded once.
“Like she belongs where she’s told to belong,” he said.
That line landed wrong.
Not dramatic.
Just uncomfortable.
Lenora finally spoke again.
“Who decides that?” she asked.
No one answered immediately.
Because that was the part no one wanted to admit.
Not openly.
Not even in a school full of rumors and tension and broken trust.
Kylen looked down the corridor.
“I don’t think it’s one person,” he said quietly.
Lilibeth nodded slowly. “Feels like too many people agreeing on the same thing.”
Lenora didn’t respond right away.
She was still watching Pamela disappear into the crowd again.
Like she belonged there more than anywhere else.
Like she was no longer something happening to the school.
But something the school was using.
That thought sat heavy.
Kylen broke the silence.
“We need to stop reacting to her,” he said.
Lilibeth frowned. “And do what instead?”
Kylen looked at Lenora.
“Figure out who benefits from all of this shifting,” he said.
Lenora finally turned away from the hallway.
Not because she stopped caring.
Because she had already started thinking differently.
“If she’s being moved,” she said, “then someone is still pulling the strings behind the scenes.”
The hockey boy nodded slightly.
“Exactly.”
Lilibeth exhaled. “And we’re just supposed to stand in the middle of it?”
Kylen gave a dry look. “We already are.”
Lenora didn’t argue.
Because that part was true.
Just people. Choices. Pressure. And something in the background constantly rearranging everything without asking permission.
And the worst part?
It wasn’t stopping.
Not even a little.
By the time school ended, nothing had settled.
It never did anymore.
It just changed shape.
Lenora walked out with Kylen beside her, Lilibeth trailing slightly behind, still texting someone she didn’t want to talk about.
The hockey boy followed like usual, hands in his pockets, expression unreadable.
Kylen broke the silence first.
“This school feels like it’s waiting for something to snap.”
Lenora didn’t look at him.
“It already snapped,” she said.
Lilibeth caught up slightly.
“My house is worse now,” she muttered.
Kylen glanced at her.
“In what way?”
“She’s watching me,” Lilibeth replied. “Like I’m going to say something wrong at any moment.”
The hockey boy let out a short laugh.
“That’s not new for some families.”
Lilibeth shot him a look.
“You’re really comfortable speaking on things you shouldn’t.”
He shrugged.
“Observation again.”
They reached the school gate.
That’s when Lenora saw it.
A car she didn’t recognize.
Parked too close.
Engine still running.
Kylen noticed her stop.
“What is it?”
Lenora didn’t answer immediately.
Because she saw who got out.
Lilibeth stiffened slightly.
“Oh no.”
A woman stepped out.
Poised. Controlled. Expensive presence without trying.
Lilibeth’s mother.
Kylen frowned.
“She doesn’t come here.”
Lilibeth’s voice dropped.
“Not without reason.”
The woman’s eyes landed on Lilibeth immediately.
“Get in the car,” she said.
No greeting.
No hesitation.
Just command.
Lilibeth didn’t move.
“Why are you here?”
Her mother didn’t blink.
“We need to talk.”
Kylen shifted slightly closer to Lenora.
The hockey boy watched quietly, like he already knew this wasn’t about the school anymore.
Lilibeth crossed her arms.
“I’m not in trouble.”
Her mother exhaled once.
“You are standing too close to things you don’t understand.”
That made Lenora’s eyes narrow slightly.
Kylen spoke before Lilibeth could.
“She’s not alone in this.”
The woman’s gaze flicked to him briefly.
Then back to her daughter.
“I didn’t come for arguments,” she said.
Lilibeth let out a short laugh.
“That’s exactly what you came for.”
Silence.
Then her mother stepped closer.
“I’m asking you once,” she said. “Get in the car.”
That shifted something.
Lilibeth hesitated.
Just a fraction.
But Lenora saw it.
Kylen noticed too.
“She’s serious,” he murmured.
The hockey boy spoke quietly.
“This isn’t about the school right now.”
Kylen frowned.
“What is it about then?”
The boy looked at Lilibeth’s mother.
“Control,” he said simply.
That word hit differently now.
Not abstract.
Personal.
Lilibeth finally exhaled.
“I’ll call you later,” she said to Lenora and Kylen.
But it didn’t sound like a choice.
Her mother turned slightly.
“Now.”
Lilibeth walked toward the car.
Slow.
Reluctant.
Not defeated, but not fully resisting either.
Kylen watched her go.
“This is getting too personal,” he said.
Lenora didn’t respond immediately.
Her eyes stayed on the car until it pulled away.
The hockey boy shifted slightly.
“Families are usually where it starts getting messy,” he said.
Kylen looked at him.
“You say that like you’ve seen it before.”
The boy didn’t answer.
Lenora finally spoke.
“This isn’t just school anymore,” she said.
Kylen glanced at her.
“It hasn’t been for a while.”
They started walking again.
But the mood had changed.
Something had tightened.
Kylen broke it again.
“You think her mom knows more than she’s showing?”
Lenora nodded once.
“She didn’t come here for nothing.”
The hockey boy added quietly.
“She came because something is shifting at home too.”
Kylen frowned.
“Everything keeps linking back to family.”
Lenora finally stopped walking.
Turned slightly.
“That’s because that’s where most of it sits,” she said.
Silence.
Kylen looked at her.
“And where does that leave us?”
Lenora’s answer came after a pause.
“Right in the middle,” she said.
The hockey boy glanced down the road where Lilibeth’s car disappeared.
“She’ll be back different,” he said.
Kylen shot him a look.
“Don’t say things like that.”
But Lenora didn’t disagree.
Because she already knew.
Nothing was staying the same anymore.
Not friends.
Not families.
Not even who stood where in all of this.
And somewhere behind them, the school gates closed for the day like nothing had happened.
Like everything was normal.
Like everything hadn’t already started shifting again.
But it had.
And this time, it was moving closer to home.