Harley

( Present )

"So, how'd you manage to score that high in the entrance?"

There it is. That damn question once again. It's getting more than annoying now – it makes me mad. The accusatory tone that they try too hard to hide in the question has started to get on my nerves. I know about six students in this very room who've made it in this batch because of their parent's money. They're all rich kids here.

I hate them all.

Not because they're rich, but because the current third year batch is the most selfish one among the three, not even thinking twice before they trample over the weaker people.

"I've no reason to answer that, do I?" I reply with a smile. "Besides, I think you've all heard enough rumours about my score already. Go figure."

"You're such a cool dancer," says Marlene, clapping her hands together. "I mean, I don't really believe that you're self taught." A liar and a cheat is what you are, is what she wants to say but she doesn't. Her smile tells me that she's doubting me, making it easier to tell what she's thinking right now.

"And just what the hell happened to you?" asks Paris. My eyes move to her. She's probably one of the only students actually abiding by the school dress code. Her uniform is so neat and she's wearing no accessories at all. Most of the students give up on the accessory part on day three at Redville but she clearly did not. She's also a dance student, which is why I know her better than the other students sitting in the third year Melpomene classroom right now.

"What the hell happened to who?" Tasha Blackwell, member of the Summer's dance group, strolls and dumps her bag in front of my seat. Her gaze is cold as it flicks between Taysa and I. Well, she's impatient about her answers, that's for sure.

"Harley's not performing at the debut, right?" Paris reminds her.

Tasha's face relaxes. She nods, then sits on her seat. She pulls her out her phone, clearly not interested in the conversation here. "Oh, yeah. Whatever."

Paris turns back to me, beaming. "So?"

Before I can reply to her, someone comes up and puts their bag down on the seat next to mine – Asher's, actually – with a loud thud. I look up, finding a familiar face I've seen around in the past month. Brown skin, dark eyes, dark hair, a lanky build – he's Tanya Meer. I hear he was on friendly terms with Asher at one point but now, they're both just acquaintances and that's it.

"Stop crowding up around her, fuckfaces," he snaps at all the girls huddled around me. His voice takes an immediate effect on most of them, who back away a little to give me some space. He sits down, looks at me, then smiles. It isn't really genuine but I can't care less. "Harley, I'm not even going to ask why you're here right now."

"Right," Marlene whistles, her hands on my shoulders and I cringe. "If France would've shut her mouth for one moment, I'd have asked her that. But she didn't, because she can't."

"My name's Paris," she says in a sing-song voice, shrugging. "And you're the one asking her stuff. More than I am."

"Shut up, both of you," Tanya says lazily. "Give this girl some space. You know a lot of people are not going to be happy about it when they see you crowding up around her." He throws me a hard look. I'm tempted to ask what he's on about but think better of it anyway when I notice the way he's looking at me. It's like a spark of recognition behind his eyes that lasts only for a moment, one that makes a chill go down my spine in an instant. "You're waiting for Asher, aren't you?"

I smile. "I thought you weren't going to ask me why I'm here."

"Well, curiosity seems to have gotten a lot better for me, then." His words are formal but his tone is not. There is something way too familiar about it – it's like I know him from somewhere instead of just being aware of his existence and status as the guy who knows Asher.

Where have I seen him? Where have I met him? Does he remember me? Because if he knows and remembers me, then that's...

"I need to talk to him, yes," I say to him before I can let myself think further than that. I don't know how I manage to keep my composure in moments like these – or whether I actually manage to keep it.

He leans forward, still watching me. "About what?"

"None of your business."

"Ooh, intense," Marlene sings, clapping her hands. Despite her sweet voice, I can tell how hostile she's actually being and how much she's trying to hide that. She rests her palms on my table, leaning closer to my face, forcing me to tear my gaze from Tanya to her. "Sorry for being a little straightforward with you here, Harley, but even if you're a first ranker, you can't barge into a third year classroom and sit in the class president's place."

My lips quirk upwards as I continue to hold her gaze. There's no way I'm backing out of this silent staring competition that others present in the class have taken an interest in. They're surrounding her, whispering and watching us. She was talking like an angel a moment ago and now she's flipped. Fucking bitch.

She blinks. I slump back. "I'm here, ain't I?"

She scoffs, ready to say something when Tasha turns to face us, her eyes flicking between the two of us. She tucks a strand of her black hair behind her ear, sighing. Now that I look at her, I see how tired she looks. Dark circles under her eyes, drowsiness evident on her face. But then again, I suppose that's common here.

"Marlene, if you've got nothing better to do than pick on a fifteen year old–"

"I'm sixteen," I chime in.

Tasha rolls her eyes, putting a finger to her lips. "If you've got nothing better to do than look down on a sixteen year old girl, who, by the way, is way more smarter than you are, then you should probably reconsider your entire life and drop out or something."

Paris snorts. Tasha turns back. Marlene's eyes fell on me again. She is about to snap when Tanya reaches for her wrist, tugging her. It's as if she's either back to her senses or there's a telepathic conversation going on between them because she turns around, looking over to her shoulders to stand the one and only, student council president, Asher fucking Hale standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he watches the commotion with so much interest that it surprises me.

For a moment, no one says a thing. Or least, I think no one does. Asher and I are looking at each other, both of us knowing exactly why I'm here but neither of us wanting to bring up the topic first. But being the more sensible person here, I flash a wide grin his way.

"You wouldn't pick up your calls, Hale, so I thought I'd just be here first thing today." He lets out a laugh, taking a step inside. "You didn't want to talk about this over the phone, did you?"

He shrugs. Walking over to his place, he stands right in front of me, looking down at me like I'm the most stupid creature he has ever come across. He drops his bag, then says, "And you were right." He looks around us, gesturing everyone around us to walk away. Tanya's gaze is still set on me but I ignore the slight panic I feel.

He knows me. He knows me. He knows me. He knows me.

But I don't think I do.

"Come with me, Harley," Asher says to me. "We need to talk."

I don't even think before getting up and following him out of the class, ignoring everyone who's speculating and talking behind our backs. But before I'm out of the class, I look over my shoulder one more time, finding Tanya's gaze still burning into me. Our eyes meet for a moment and I feel nothing but the fear of being known here.

Rumours, I can deal with those. But someone knowing who the fuck I am and why I'm here? Well, that's the worst damn miscalculation I can ever make.

***

"Student council, Asher? Really?"

We're on the roof now. It didn't take us long to get away from the crowd in his class considering they're all more or less scared of him. If not scared, they're definitely intimidated by him. Asher asked me to follow him and led me to the roof, unlocking the door and gesturing for me to enter. It took a while to adjust to the lighting and a little while for us to finally begin talking.

That's why we're leaning at the rail as the late students rush inside the school. The roll call takes place half way through the homeroom so we've got about twenty minutes to get this sorted out. Due to the events taking place this next month, there's now a new academic time table. It's a half day schedule and the rest of the time, it's all practice.

Practice where I only observe others practice, I remind myself but quickly brush the thought away when I feel the familiar pang of a feeling I can't put words to increase. I'm still scared of the fact that I might actually be loving dance by now. It's terrifying to even think of it because all that love would just be a hindrance in what I'm here to do.

"You're on the council, Harley." He says it like he has any say in it. He can't force me to be a council member. He can't do anything just because he says so. People like him make annoyance crawl under my skin. They're all pests with an everlasting ego. "All you've got to do is fill the form."

"I'm not filling the form," I tell him. The cold metal of the rail burns into my skin and for a moment, I imagine myself as someone else, falling down and dying with my brain spilling out on impact. "I refused to be the representative of my own class. What makes you think that I'd be okay with the idea of being on the council?"

"No one else would refuse this opportunity," he reminds me.

He's wrong. "I know I'm not the only person who didn't apply to the council because they just aren't interested in your crap."

"So what you're asking is why I want you on the council?"

"I'm glad you finally realised that."

He lets out a sigh and turns, leaning his back against the rail. His eyes rest on me, meeting mine just a moment later. They're dead serious and judging by his body language, I just know that whatever he's going to say is not going to be a lie. They might not be the truth either, but they're not lies. Half truths, you might call them.

"We got a lot of applications from the first years." He runs a hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "Half of them are losers. Absolute goddamn jokes. Then there are people who are okay in academics but terrible in decision making. Then there are those wannabe cool guys and girls who want to gain popularity by being on the council."

"Being close to you and Nate, you mean?" I ask.

He smiles. "Yeah. That. So, after going through most applications, we've only finalised one member. Ana Virginia something–"

"It's Ana Vorklov, Asher." I can't help but let out a small laugh at that.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Do you know she could've been the first ranker if it weren't for you? Rhett was just a chance, you know. A fluke. That guy? He's all cram. But Ana? She's genuinely smart." He pauses. "But she's the only one who we've all agreed on till now. Everyone wants you on the council as well. We took a vote for it. All you've got to do now is fill the form."

"Vote?" I echo. "What's with you guys and votes? First the Primas – who vote me out, by the way, and then there's you and your council crap voting me in. Are you telling me that my dance is worse than whatever academic decision making crap I need for the council?"

"The council and the Primas are not related in any way," he points out.

A dry laugh escapes my lips. "Really, Asher? Because you're close with all the Primas. Five members of the council are like in the core committee of the whole, you know, council thing. Excuse me if I'm not convinced by what you say."

"You have a point there, Harley but I'm not kidding here. There's no way in hell that I'm putting some worthless piece of shit on the council."

"Weren't you the one who said that my admission is only because I paid them all off to increase my rank?"

He pauses for a second and in that moment, something flashes across his expression. Something that tells me everything I've thought about this is right and that I'm cornered already but I want him to do it. I want him to admit what he's going to because if he doesn't, I'll be more than just disappointed in him. He can't possibly have an ego that large.

"I was wrong." He shrugs as if it's no big deal that he's admitting this. That he's looking me in my eyes and admitting that he was wrong and that my score is mine to keep. "I was wrong about your score, alright? And don't give me that bullshit that you can't lead and crap because the council doesn't require that from you. Are you in?"

"I'm not," I say to him.

He lifts himself up and stands straighter, turning towards the other side. "What would it take for me to do to convince you to join the council, Harley?"

I know exactly where this is going. "I don't know, Hale. What do you have in mind?"

He smiles. "You're smart."

"Are you sure that this is how you want this to go?"

We stare at each other, trying to read each other's mind to see if we're thinking about the same thing and we are—it's so obvious. "Positive. Call it a favour. I'll owe you one. Plus, this isn't the first time we'll be doing this, yeah?"

I watch him for a second. I want him to take it back but he doesn't and I realise that maybe, just maybe Asher isn't as smart as I gave him credit for. So, I nod. I silently agree to this even though I have no idea what I'll have to do and he grins, eyes shining.

"You in, then?" He asks.

"You think I'll miss out on the chance of having Asher Hale owe me one?," I mock him, sarcasm dripping in every single one of my words. "Send me the form."

He extends his hands to me and I shake it. Unspoken words weigh in the air – questions about how this is going to end up and just how bad things might get. The two of us shouldn't be together in anything. That's something Elia wrote. That's something Kyle said. That's why I'm enjoying this so much. Even though I'm tired with all of this, the adrenaline sometimes makes up for it.

With the way things are progressing, I can't wait to see how this ends.

***

That night, I got an email from Kyle with no subject, just one attachment. I smile to myself, surprised. I didn't know he'd do this for me, not to mention it hasn't been that long since I asked him to find out everything he could as soon as possible. He might be a useful contact after all, and I can't help but think that Elia left him because she foresaw that this would happen.

In the mail there's one single pdf with the title of a person's name, a person I'd been doubting about for a long time but I needed someone like Kyle to confirm and give me anything extra he could get me.

Nathan Andrews.