Violet decided right then and there that she hated her newfound popularity. As she and Lila walked toward the elite bleachers, a chant suddenly erupted from sowhere in the crowd.
"Purple Storm!"
At first, it was just one enthusiastic student, but soon another joined in. Then another. And before Violet could even process what was happening, nearly half the students in the bleachers were chanting the moniker the Oracle had so kindly gifted her.
She fought the urge to groan. Violet had never been good with fa, and she certainly wasn’t prepared for this level of attention. She kept her expression calm, walking forward as if the noise didn’t bother her, but her insides were twisting in discomfort.
"Do sothing!" Lila nudged her arm intentionally, her wide eyes and barely contained grin making it clear she was enjoying the spectacle.
Violet shot her a sharp look. Do what? her expression seed to say.
Lila simply shrugged with an unhelpful grin that said, Not my problem.
Left with no other option, Violet turned to face the crowd. Plastering on a smile, she raised her hand in a small wave and the reaction was instantaneous. Deafening cheers erupted with students yelling her na even louder. She was sure she even heard soone scream, "I love you, my Purple Storm!"
Violet’s cheeks burned hot with embarrassnt, and she quickened her pace, hoping to get to the bleachers and out of the spotlight as soon as possible. But Lila walked beside her with a smug, knowing smile, clearly amused by Violet’s discomfort.
"I am definitely opening that Moontagram account for you," Lila said with a triumphant smirk.
Violet glanced at her, her lips twitching into a smile, not because she found Lila’s words funny or because she was flattered by the cheering crowd. No, her smile ca from the one thing that actually made her excited: the potential money she could milk out of these fools.
She could already see it in her mind, sponsorships, promotions, maybe even brand deals. She might not care for fa, but she did care about being rich.
And God, she couldn’t wait to roll around in those cash.
But in the end, it turned out not everyone was into her. The shift in energy was imdiate as a student suddenly stood and began chanting, "Elsie Lancaster!"
As expected, the chant gained montum and soon enough, Elsie’s fans roared her na until the cries of "Purple Storm" faded into silence, swallowed entirely by the sheer volu of support for Elsie.
Elsie Lancaster, ever the dramatic queen, rose gracefully from her seat at the front row, exuding arrogance and elegance in equal asure. With a smile that could rival royalty, she blew a kiss to her adoring crowd.
The students erupted into cheers, so even collapsing back into their seats, clutching their chests as though her kiss had physically pierced their hearts.
Theatrics, Violet thought with an eye roll.
It was just as Elsie relished her mont of glory that Violet approached the elite bleachers. Violet didn’t spare Elsie a single glance, walking past her rival with an air of indifference that practically scread, I don’t care. Without hesitation, she chose a seat at the front row.
Natalie was seated in the middle, although one empty space separated her from Elsie. Violet deliberately sat beside Natalie, sensing that, while she couldn’t fully trust her, Natalie was neutral enough to be tolerated, and perhaps even useful as an ally if needed in the future.
The move didn’t go unnoticed. Violet could feel Elsie’s icy glare, sharp enough to cut steel. Her narrowed eyes practically burned holes into Violet, but she didn’t lash out directly. Instead, she turned her ire toward an easier target.
"What is that thing doing here?" Elsie’s voice was cold, her manicured finger pointing toward Lila, who sat beside Violet.
Violet’s blood boiled at the word ’thing’, but before she could respond, Lila opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Elsie’s condescending tone. "This is the elites’ section. I don’t recall you being one."
Violet’s jaw clenched, her voice firm but filled with barely concealed venom. "She’s with . And I’m elite."
Elsie raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a disdainful smirk. "Front row isn’t for your servants. The back is more suited for her." She gestured lazily toward the general seating area, where Grace and a few others sat.
The word servant was the last straw for Violet. She began to stand, her fists clenched, ready to give Elsie a piece of her mind. But before she could, Natalie’s hand shot out, gripping her thigh firmly. Violet froze, looking at Natalie, whose gaze said everything: This isn’t the place or ti. Think bigger.
Lila seed to catch on as well. Before Violet could object further, Lila stood quickly, plastering a forced smile on her face. "It’s fine, Violet," she said lightly. "I think I’ll have a better view from the back anyway."
The words stung, especially because Violet could see through Lila’s bravado. She was minimizing her own embarrassnt, trying to avoid escalating the situation. Violet watched her friend walk away, her nails digging into her palms as she glared daggers at Elsie.
Elsie’s smug smile widened, her satisfaction radiating like a victory flag. She leaned back in her seat with the air of soone who had just won a petty battle.
Petty gas. Petty gas. Violet thought, her teeth grinding in frustration. The bitch is acting like a spoiled child.
She forced herself to calm down, taking deep breaths to quell her rising anger. Patience. Petty gas only ant petty victories. She wouldn’t stoop to Elsie’s level. Violet consoled herself with that knowledge.
And then, almost imdiately, a cacophony of excitent rent the air as the players strode onto the field. Coach Harrington led the team, barking orders as his booming voice tried to cut through the cheers of the crowd.
Violet’s eyes scanned the team instinctively, and it didn’t take long for her to spot him. Alaric. His presence was impossible to miss, his unique tousled white hair gleaming under the sunlight.
And then as if he could sense her searching for him, he looked her way and smiled. Except that smile was like an arrow through the heart knowing what she had done — and the one she was yet to do.
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