Isabelle's POV
We pulled up to the gates way later than we should have. The headlights hit the limestone walls and suddenly the field, the city, the "I love you", it all felt like a dream I was waking up from too fast. My stomach did a slow roll.
Julien killed the engine near the side entrance.
"We're dead," he muttered, looking at the time.
"It was worth it," I said, smiling. I felt better. My hair was a disaster from the wind, but my eyes weren't darting around for once. "Thank you very—" before I could finish my sentence, I saw him.
Dmitri was leaning against the brick pillar by the archway. He was looking directly at us. Directly at me. He wasn't even wearing a coat, just his uniform shirt with the sleeves rolled up, looking like he'd been waiting in the dark for hours. My pulse spiked. This guy literally has nothing better to do than haunt us.
"Rousseau," he said. He sounded angry and frustrated. "Nice of you to show up. I figured you'd run off to join the circus or something."
Julien stepped out of the car. "Get a hobby, Dmitri. We went for a drive."
Dmitri didn't even look at him. He was staring at me through the windshield. His expression was so cold that I had to look away. "A drive. Right. Because the 'Golden Boy' always skips classes for a drive. Your father's already asking where you are. The Director isn't happy."
I got out of the car, clutching my violin. "It was my fault," I said, my voice steady. "I asked him to take me."
Dmitri finally looked at me. He took a step forward, invading my space. "Don't you think it's a little early to be skipping classes and breaking out of school. You look like a mess, Duval. Windblown and pathetic. You think a few hours in the city changes anything? You still have to walk through those doors tomorrow."
"Back off," Julien snapped, stepping between us.
Dmitri let out a short, nasty laugh. "Or what? You'll write me a polite letter? Go inside, Julien. Before I decide to tell the board exactly where you spent your afternoon."
"Please, don't do that." I pleaded. "I asked him for a drive around the city. If you need to report anything to the board, say my name instead. I'll take responsibility for it."
"What?!" Julien said. "No. Please Isabelle, you can't do that. You have nothing to take responsibility for. I'll speak to my father about this. And if they want to punish anyone, I'd rather they punish me."
"Ha…" Dmitri breathed out as he ran his hand through his hair, facing the sky as if he were trying to contain himself from exploding.
"You have got to be kidding me."
"What in the actual fuck do both of you think you are doing? What is this? A soap opera show or something. And you, Duval, what made you think a mere punishment would cut you for skipping classes and breaking out of school with the school director's son?"
"You'll be kicked out of St. Aurelia before lunch break tomorrow."
"Dmitri please, she didn't mean it that w—" Julien pleaded, standing in front of me like he was trying to shield me from him.
"Shut the hell up, Rousseau. I'm not saying shit to anyone. Take your performance inside before I change my mind."
He watched us walk in. I could feel his eyes on the back of my neck the whole way to the dorms.
The next morning, everything felt the same.
Overnight, the air had gone from sharp and mean to heavy and... sticky. People weren't glaring like they used to. They were staring. Like I'm some new exhibit at the zoo. Boys who used to walk over me were now stepping aside, smiling with too many teeth.
I still couldn't wrap my head around the sudden change. It was like some miracle happened over the weekend. It's been five days since they all started this act and I just couldn't get used to it.
It sucked. I hated it. I'd rather they just hated me. At least I knew how to handle hate.
I was at my locker, trying to get my history book out, when a voice made me jump out of my skin.
"You're getting popular, Isabelle. It's almost a scandal."
Emmeline Schuyler. She looked perfect. Not a hair out of place, smelling like flowers and money. She was smiling, but it was not reaching her eyes.
"What?" I said. My voice sounded small.
She laughed. It sounded fake. "Relax. I'm not Arabella. Bullying is not my thing."
I didn't buy it. The girls who didn't scream were always the ones who dug the knife in deepest. "I don't have anything to say to you, Emmeline."
"Oh, I think we do," she said. She leaned against the locker next to mine. "The box? The rat? That was... unfortunate. Messy," she tried to sound concerned.
Unfortunate. That was a nice way to put it. "You saw it happened," I said. "You were there and you did nothing."
"Yeah, but I did do something about it. When was the last time Arabella bothered you? She can't come close to you anymore. I scared her off for you." She said, as she tucked the hair hovering over my face to the back of my ear. "And I know what it's like to be surrounded by idiots who don't get you." Her face softened, but it felt like a performance. "I think you need someone on your side. Someone who actually knows how this place works."
"I have Julien," I said.
She made a face like she'd tasted something sour. "Julien. The Golden Boy. Kindness is a soft target, Isabelle. It doesn't protect you. Influence does. Armor does."
Before I could say no, she grabbed my arm. It wasn't a gentle "let's walk" grab. It was a "you're coming with me grab".
"We'll walk," she said. "Give them something to talk about."
We walked through the hall. I felt like I was being led to a guillotine. People were whispering. Why is Emmeline touching her? Is she a charity case or a pet?
Across the hall, I saw Dmitri. He was leaning against a locker with Adrien. His jaw looked like it might pop. Emmeline just waved at them and kept walking, talking to me like we were best friends. It was exhausting.
"I want to help you," she said when we got outside. "No games. I'll be your shield. If you're with me, Arabella won't touch you."
"What's the catch?" I asked. "Nobody does stuff for free here."
She smirked. "I'm bored. I just need someone to talk to. Someone real."
At lunch, she sat with us. Julien looked like he wanted to scream.
"Mind if I join?" she asked, sitting down before we could say no.
"Actually—" Julien started.
"It's fine," I said, Julien looking at me, shocked. I just wanted the scene to end.
"See?" Emmeline smiled at Julien. "She's got better manners than a Rousseau."
His knuckles tightened until they turned white.
"Be careful, Isabelle. She's playing a game you don't even know the rules to," Julien leaned over to me, whispering.
"I know," I whispered back. But looking at the girls across the room, the ones who were now looking at me with actual fear. I wondered if a scary friend was better than being a target.
Dmitri's POV
I was trashin' the basketball court. Moving too fast, hitting the ball too hard. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it, her and Julien alone in that car, Emmeline's arm around her.
Adrien stole the ball from me. "You're gonna pop a blood vessel, man. Chill."
"I am chill," I snapped. I grabbed the ball back and slammed it into the hoop.
"Right. And I'm a monk."
I stopped. Emmeline was leaning against the fence. She was smiling. That stupid, knowing sparkle in her eyes made me want to break something.
I walked over. "What are you doing?"
"Watching you practice," she said. "You're getting sloppy."
"Why were you with her? What are you trying to do this time? I know you have something to do with what's happening lately."
She tilted her head. "I didn't do anything. I'm just making new friends. Community spirit, right?"
Adrien stepped up. "We know you don't do 'friends,' Em. You're dragging her into your mess. She doesn't get the war you're in."
Emmeline ignored him and looked straight at me. "I'm doing it for you, Dmitri. You're getting messy. You're humiliating kids in the cafeteria and tearing up sketches. You're acting on impulse. If she's mine, you don't have to worry about her. You can be the Prince again and I'll handle the Rat."
I felt a cold, sharp fury. "Stop it. Now. She isn't a project. She isn't a pawn."
"Or what?" she challenged. "You'll protect her? You'll tell the whole school Isabelle Duval is a Volkov girl? Think about the scandal, Dmitri. Your dad would love that."
I went dead still.
"You should be grateful our families go way back, that's the only reason why you can stick your nose into my shit and get away with it," I said. "Stay out of my sight. And stay the hell away from her."
She didn't even flinch. She just nodded like she'd already won. "We'll see. But remember... I'm the only thing keeping the other girls from shredding her while you're busy pretending you don't care."
She walked off, her heels clicking on the pavement.
I watched her go. My hands were shaking.
I told her she'd be destroyed. I didn't think the person with the match would be someone I actually trusted.