The next day came in a blur. Students of Dudley High were back on campus, dragging themselves through the routine. Just as the first class ended and the teacher was on her way out, Frances Holland strolled in, arms crossed and her usual smirk in place.
"Good morning, ma'am," she said, voice flat as she walked past the teacher without a hint of urgency.
"Good afternoon to you too, Holland," the teacher snapped sarcastically. "Isn't it too early for you to grace us with your presence? You should've stayed in bed a little longer."
"Oh? I'll do that tomorrow," Frances replied coolly, dropping into her seat with a dramatic sigh.
"Holland!" the teacher screeched, red with frustration.
"Do you still have something to tell the class, ma'am? If not, you can take your leave. Your period is over," she said, flicking invisible lint off her blazer.
"You! I'm going to deduct your points, I swear!" the teacher shouted, pointing a trembling book at her.
"Your generosity knows no bounds, Your Majesty," Frances quipped with a mock bow.
Laughter erupted across the classroom as the teacher stomped off, muttering under her breath. Frances placed her bag beside her seat and hissed in irritation.
It wasn't unusual for Frances to waltz into class after the bell, some teachers had learned to ignore her altogether, while others still tried to tame her. She rarely showed up for morning classes, preferring to sleep in while the rest of the school scrambled to make it on time. She was a menace, selective in her targets, but a menace all the same. She enjoyed riling up the stricter teachers while treating the gentler ones with an odd sense of respect.
While other students dreaded detention, Frances didn't care. In fact, she looked forward to it.
She'd been reported to the principal countless times but never seemed to suffer. While others got detention or were sentenced to campus cleaning duties, Frances strolled into the principal's office like it was her private lounge. Frances would be in the principal's office, sipping juice, sharing snacks, and laughing at his old jokes.
"Frances, you're here? Go grab us some snacks from the cafeteria," the principal would say, smiling as she sat across from him and shared his lunch.
And yes the principal is very fond of her despite her rebellious nature. Everyone knew about their strange bond. Even the teachers, exhausted by her antics, had given up.
"That little goddess is about to graduate," they'd whisper among themselves, eager to see the back of her.
Frances picked up the familiar cup of milk tea waiting on her desk and tore off the little note attached to it.
You shine as the sun, and the moonlight reveres your beauty. I hope you'll always be happy and healthy, Cici.
She crushed the note in her palm, tossed it into the bin, and unwrapped the straw with practiced ease. Taking a long sip, she sighed and murmured, "Such a good one for this earthly sun."
Frances suffered from gastritis, so she relied on a steady diet of milk, warm, cold, shaken, or steeped in tea. Every day, without fail, a perfectly prepared drink in a Stanley cup awaited her. Each came with a note, always thoughtful, always unsigned.
At first, she found it creepy. Someone knew about her health and preferences? She threw them out daily for months, expecting the mystery gift-giver to give up. But they never did. Eventually, her guilt over wasting food kicked in.
"I can't die that easily," she told her friends and began drinking them.
Who sent them? She had no idea. She even tried coming to school earlier to catch them in the act, but the cup always beat her to class. It was as if the sender knew her exact schedule… and the weather too. On cold days, the milk came warm. On hot days, it was ice-cold.
It was strange, sure. But Frances didn't panic. Free drinks were free drinks.
She was midway through another sip when the bell rang, it was time for extracurricular activities.
"Frances, we're heading to the basketball pitch. Morgan's playing today," Coco said, stopping by her desk.
Frances glanced at her lazily. "Morgan? I already said I'm not cheering for that idiot."
"What are you talking about? You're the cheer leader. You can't pick who to cheer for!" Coco flailed her arms dramatically.
"Fine, fine. Let me finish my drink first."
Before she could take another sip, "Frances!" a voice called suddenly.
She turned and was nearly hit in the face with a bouquet.
A boy knelt before her, holding up the flowers. "Frances, I like you! Would you be my girlfriend?"
Gasps echoed across the room.
He was from another class, but the same year. Like many boys, he'd fallen under Frances's spell. Unlike most, he was brave enough to confess. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her infamous kick or slap.
But she did neither.
She stared at the flowers, her expression slowly shifting from surprise to confusion to something close to… nausea Her skin paled. Her hands trembled.
"Lilies?" someone whispered.
Then came a loud, furious voice.
"Get the flowers away from her!"
Rain. It was Rain!
The ever-quiet, glasses-wearing Rain Piper had just kicked the boy out of the way, sending the bouquet flying.
"Are you insane, Rain?! What the hell!" the boy screamed, scrambling to his feet. "Why did you push me? Fuck off!"
"No! you fuck off!" Rain snapped, shoving him again.
Frances suddenly swayed and collapsed.
Rain caught her in his arms, lifting her effortlessly into a bridal hold.
"Frances!" her friends screamed, rushing to her.
"What's wrong? Why did she pass out?!"
"Sutton you are definitely crazy for bringing lilies to Frances! She's allergic to that damn flowers that you were shoving on her face!" Rain shouted. "You could've killed her!"
"Holy crap… I forgot she's allergic to them!" Evie cried, panic-stricken. "We need to get her to the hospital now!"
Rain turned, ready to carry her out, but Lawrence stepped in his path.
"Give her to me, Rain."
"Why? She's breaking out, she needs help now!"
"It's not your turn to carry Frances in that intimate manner. She's our big sis we'll take care of her, thanks buddy" Lawrence said coolly, patting his shoulder before scooping Frances from him. While pulling Frances into his arms. Rain hesitated, he was furious but remained silent.
The others rushed out behind Lawrence. Rain returned to his seat like nothing had happened, his fists clenched around his book. His eyes locked on the doorway like he could shatter it with sheer rage.
A moment later, Morgan entered.
"Where is everyone?"
"They took Frances to the hospital," someone muttered.
Morgan's eyes widened, and he bolted out.
"That boy's done for. Frances is going to kill him when she wakes up."
"No kidding. I heard her allergy to lilies is insane, just a bit of contact and her face swells."
"She was already breaking out before they took her. Did you see it?"
"Of course I did. She might stay in the hospital for days."
Rain said nothing, but his grip on his book tightened.
By the time they got Frances to the hospital, she looked awful. Her skin was covered in hives and rashes, her eyes red and swollen. Lawrence carried her inside, frantic. The others trailed behind, shaken.
"Oh my god, Frances!" Coco gasped when she saw her. "Is she going to die?! Is Frances about to die!?"
Evie caught her as she collapsed. "She'll be fine, baby. Frances loves herself too much to die."
"But her face, it's ruined! She looks horrible, Evie!"
"Don't cry. She'll be okay," he whispered, holding her close.
Lawrence, Coco, Evie, Cora, and Abby huddled in the hospital hallway. Moments later, Morgan burst in, breathless.
"How is she?"
"No update yet," Abby said, folding his arms around his neck anxiously.
"I swear, I'll kill that Sutton guy," Morgan hissed.
"He better pray to his creator that Frances makes it," Lawrence added, voice like ice. "Or I'll personally twist his neck."
Finally, the doctor appeared. They swarmed him.
"How is she?!"
"She has a severe lily allergy. Why was she even near one? That could've killed her!"
"It was a mistake! Is she okay? Any complications?" Morgan asked quickly.
"She passed out due to low oxygen levels. She's on oxygen therapy now. We've also given her IV fluids and antihistamines. We'll observe her for the next 24 hours, maybe longer. You need to call her family to stay with her."
"Her family?" they echoed, confused.
"We're her family," Evie said quickly.
"You're her friends. Not her legal guardians," the doctor replied. "We need a parent or guardian here."
"She's… she's an orphan," Coco murmured, her voice breaking.
The doctor's face fell. "That's unfortunate. Still, I can't have a bunch of high schoolers crowding the hospital. We'll hire a nurse to care for her."
"No way! We'll take shifts, how can we trust an outsider to do that" Lawrence insisted.
"I don't want kids circling a hospital room"
"We're seventeen!" Morgan snapped, clearly offended. he hates when someone tries to look down on him because he is a teenager
"Call your guardians, y'all are not even an adult yet" the doctor said, brushing past them.
"Please pay the bill at the counter," a nurse added.
The group groaned and made their way to the desk. They all took out their cards to pay
"What the hell! I'm paying," Lawrence announced.
"Move aside, broke prince." Evie pushed him aside despite his boy body and handed over his card. "Take mine, beautiful lady."
Morgan rolled his eyes. "This guy's insulting us to our face…"
Though they were all from wealthy families, Evie's wealth stood in its own league. His parents were some of the richest and most powerful in Frosty City. He made it his duty to cover any group expenses and they let him. After all, they each had their own strengths. It was how they balanced.
After making payments to the hospital, Coco and Abby quietly slipped out to get some food for themselves. Their steps echoed in the hospital corridor, both casting lingering glances back toward the room as though afraid Frances might wake in their absence. They returned shortly and stayed by her side until nightfall, ignoring the doctors' repeated rants that visitors weren't allowed to stay so late. But they refused to budge, sitting close, whispering about old memories and what Frances might say once she woke up.
Eventually, the hallway lights dimmed and the atmosphere grew still, cloaked in the hush of late night. A tall, dark-suited security guard arrived with a firm expression, casting a long shadow as he approached Coco. His presence was unmissable.
"Miss Coco," he said in a low tone, "It's time."
Coco sighed heavily and stood. Her brows furrowed in defiance, but she didn't resist. She turned to glance at Frances one last time, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, her face drawn with quiet worry.
"Take care of her," she whispered to Abby, who nodded solemnly.
Evie's mum showed up later, rushing in with her coat flapping around her ankles. Her makeup was slightly smudged, and her eyes were wide with concern. She paused by the doorway, gaze landing on Frances' pale form on the hospital bed. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She moved closer, fingers clenching the strap of her purse, then turned to see her own son sitting nearby with red-rimmed eyes.
Evie stood, and for a brief moment, he looked like he'd argue, but his mum's gentle tug on his arm silenced his protest. He stole one last look at Frances before allowing himself to be led away, wiping his cheeks with the back of his hand.
One by one, they all left, their silhouettes swallowed by the dark corridor. The room fell into a heavy silence.
The beep of the heart monitor was the only sound that lingered.
Later that night, the hospital's glass doors slid open quietly, and someone stepped inside, unnoticed. His uniform was slightly wrinkled, the buttons near his collar undone as if he had rushed out in a hurry. His eyes scanned the hallway anxiously before he found the room number and paused at the door.
He stood there for a long moment.
The sight of Frances lying so still in the hospital bed, her cheeks pale and lips dry, shattered something inside him. His chest tightened, his fists clenching at his sides helplessly. His pride wouldn't let him break down, but his throat ached with words he couldn't say.
He didn't enter the room. He simply sat on the floor beside the door, back against the wall. He stayed there the whole night, his body tense, listening to every sound, every breath from inside.
By the time morning light seeped in through the tall hospital windows, casting golden streaks across the floor, she had stirred. Nurses moved around quietly, and the doctor came in to check her vitals. Her pulse was steadier now. Her breathing more even.
"She's getting better," the doctor said with a small nod, scribbling something on the chart before leaving.
Outside the hospital doors, the boy finally stepped into the crisp morning air. He blinked at the sun, rubbing his tired eyes. The black car parked by the curb purred softly, and his guard quickly moved to his side.
"Boss, your grandmother would be mad if she finds out that you didn't sleep home last night. What should we tell her?"
He scoffed, brushing invisible dust off his pants as he rolled his eyes.
"As if she would even know whether I slept at home or not! Let's go back to school. I will change my uniform there."
"Alright, boss!"
The guard hurried to open the car door. Without another word, he slid into the seat, expression unreadable as the engine roared to life. The car pulled away from the hospital, leaving behind the echoes of a sleepless night and someone still lying in the hospital bed, unaware of who had sat outside her room the whole time.