The headmaster's office was becoming a recurring theme.

     The eight students stood facing the daunting mahogany desk, like a couple of pre-schoolers about to receive a fit of reprimanding. All were dripping wet, their hair sloppy and their bodies carrying a particularly nauseating odour. They were at least allowed to clean up the food that was stuck to their skin, but unfortunately the headmaster couldn't spare them five minutes for a bloody shower.

     Well, Isla thought, that was on them.

    "Why is it," the headmaster said agonisingly slowly, like he was so furious to the point of calm collection, "that every time there is a public quarrel, it's always located in the dining halls?" No one dared to respond. "Hm? Can somebody explain this to me?"

     Charles raised his hand. "Maybe because it's the best source of entertainment? You got all the Years piled up in one big room, and it makes for a valable audience—"

    "That was a rhetorical question, Mr. Graham! Put your hand down!"

     Charles gulped and dropped his hand.

    "This is a serious issue that needs none of your mockery." The tension crackled to new degrees. "First, your disruption was a clear violation of the rules—multiple rules. Not only have you risked the rest of your peers, but you've also knowingly involved students of different years—your fellow underclassmen. Now we will have to receive complaints from their parents, accommodate to each of their liking, and somehow justify how their kids were pulled into a fight caused by the very model students that Belfort Academy has entrusted them to believe in."

     He paused. "This goes beyond the issue of Sixth Form students and now concerns every Year in this Academy, do you understand now?"

     Isla certainly did, and she was sure the rest of them were, too, if their guilty silence was any indication of it. 

     Stupid. How could she have been so stupid?

     "Second, I have heard disturbing reports of what caused this disputation, which was your video, Mr. Sabatier." All eyes turned to Elias, and for once, he didn't bask in the attention. "I do not wish to waste time on reprimanding you, considering that you yourself should know the idiocy of your actions—past and present ones." An unflinching stare. "It is intolerable. I wanted you to personally know that. That kind of behaviour is not acceptable in this institution."

     Elias's head hung in guilt. Huh.

     That little arsehole knew guilt after all.

    "You and you." The headmaster pointed at Amber and Sofia. "Explain to me what happened. Make it court. No one else talks."

     Isla heard her best friend's breath hitch with fear.

     But the two girls explained anyway. She knew why the headmaster chose them; they had better reputations than most in the room, with Amber generally staying out of trouble and Sofia being the prefect of one of the dormitory houses—Isla's. They were careful enough to not let any hostile emotions get the better of them.

    "So just to be perfectly clear," the headmaster clicked his tongue. "You three were acting in Miss Kingsley's defence." He pointed at Amber, Zélia and Charles. "And you two were acting in Mr. Sabatier's defence." Blair and Sofia. The man paused and looked at Nolan, oddly singling him out. "And what was your role in this madness?"

    "I tried to stop it, sir. But I was caught in the fray."

     The headmaster easily believed him, nodding. Isla tried to contain her surprise. Perhaps he had a soft spot for Nolan Parrish... he had quite a clean track record, as far as she knew.

    "Well then." The man finally laid his elbows on the table. "Miss Kingsley and Mr. Sabatier, since you were the instigators of this fight—a habit you must both extinguish at once—the two of you are sent to house arrest until the end of this year."

     The shocked silence in the room was enough to hear the ticking of the clock behind him. They all stared open-mouthed, more specifically the two students who were addressed, as if they were waiting—hoping—for a punchline. For him to declare that he was just pissing his pants. 

     They were met with only resilience.

    "But headmaster—" Isla fumbled, already risking herself by stepping forward and protesting, "that's months—"

    "Precisely."

    "—all the way to December—"

    "I'm well aware that includes the rest of your autumn, yes."

     Isla's eyes were burning.

    "What about the Winter Cup?" That came from Elias, who had stepped forward as well. It was possibly the first time they were standing side-by-side and on the same defence. His tone was not as frazzled as hers, but rather a contained nervousness, a silent dread. 

     It took the headmaster a solid minute. 

    "You can still play. And Miss Kingsley can still attend, for the sake of school spirit. But other recreational events that requires stepping foot outside of school grounds are strictly prohibited." Which meant— "So while Halloween festivities are still at your disposal, the bonfire and the annual trip to the Christmas market is not."

     Nolan stepped forward. "Headmaster, sir—"

    "No exceptions." The headmaster quickly grazed over the others, like they were wasting his time already. "For the rest of you lot that were involved, you are sentenced to two-weeks' worth of cleaning duties. First and foremost, the halls in the West Wing of the girls' dormitory house, but not limited to. Effective immediately."

     Then he waved a lazy hand over to the door, his eyes fixed on the stack of files on his desk. She tried to catch his eye, to apologise or do something. Anything. But unlike last time, he didn't acknowledge her.

    You've truly fucked up now, Isla Kingsley.

—

     In all fairness, Isla was relieved that neither Amber nor Zélia had to be punished for her daft mistakes. Two weeks worth of household cleaning was bearable, but unfortunately, it all depended on who you were paired up with. Amber was paired up with Blair; Zélia with Sofia. She wasn't sure if those pairs were enough for damage control, but at least they weren't paired with their mortal enemy themselves.

     Like the devil himself and she.

    "Thanks a lot, Kingsley," Elias snapped, sweeping dead autumn leaves at one of the outdoor gyms, the cool sunlight shooting beams around them. "Because of you, I get to miss my last bonfire."

     The bonfire was a social event curated by the early comers of the Academy; a casual night spent in the forest near school grounds. A man-made camp full of scary stories, burning marshmallows, all that sorts. Supervised only by the Sixth Form's prefects, it was an easy excuse to get shit-faced, smoke whatever you wanted and have secret hook-ups without much repercussions (except for the Academy's rumour mill.)

     It's a Belfort tradition that's become infamous, only reserved for the older years, carrying its own series of scandals and make-believes.

     And though Isla never let herself come, not managing to fit it into her calendar and not eager to add herself in the list of scandals and troubles, she recognised its temptation.

    "Ecstatic," Isla gave him a tight fuck-you smile. "You think I planned on getting us house arrest until the bloody end of the year? You think I don't have my own plans and things to attend to?"

     There was still the Christmas market and random excursion trips she had already signed up for. Little breaks she'd fit in her class-cladded calendar to get out of this godforsaken Academy. Now they were all ruined. The bit of freedom she created for herself.

     Her grip on the broomstick hardened.

    "Actually, I find that extremely difficult to believe."

    "Connard." (Asshole.)

     Elias smile and put a mocking hand on his heart. "Tu me fais mal." (You hurt me.)

     Of course he'd memorised French insults.

     Even with a momentary quiet and a fair distance, the strain between them was too intense to ignore. It was like lightning was bottled up in the room. It was going to crack any minute.

    "I'm amazed you're not paying off your dirty work," Isla started, her back to him. "What's the matter, Sabatier? Caught on camera?"

    "That's not me." Elias's voice was sharp, and for once, it made her shut up and actually look at him. His stormy eyes swirled with indignation. "I never did those things, alright? I was just spewing rubbish. That's all it ever was. A bunch of bollocks. The only things I ever did with my money were non-school related—free entry to clubs, winning bets, cutting the line. If it ever was, it was never my fucking intention."

    "So type-A arsehole behaviour and ignorance, then."

     Elias glared at her. "You think if I actually did that in the Academy, to bolster up my credit or whatever—that I'd be here right now? That I'd have to put up with French lessons with you for another month?" He shook his head, his voice a murmur now. "As if you'd believe me."

     Isla's mouth opened for a spat, but his words truly sank in. He had a very good point. If he was still the same boy in that video, he'd have his money and inheritance take care of everything. He wouldn't even be here paying for the consequences.

    "Damage control..." Even her words were laced with doubt.

     Elias sensed that, too, because he spread his arms as if saying, there you fucking go.

    "Your big revenge plan was built on a lie," he had to add.

     Isla's eyes shot fire. "Hey. You might not be that person anymore, but cockiness still oozes out of you like a stain," she snapped. "It's ingrained in your way of thinking, Elias. You're still high on the clouds. And you'd rather break your leg than come down to the ground."

     He chuckled. "Still going back to the rumour feud, aren't you?"

    The one that started it all.

    That lazy, bored tone of his triggered something in her. 

    "You know why I got so angry?" Isla spoke quickly so he couldn't interrupt her. "After people thought we hooked up, I was labelled. I was easy. I was a slut. And the word spreads." She turned away from him, not letting him see the emotion in her eyes. "Once that's out, it's like your body doesn't belong to yourself anymore. You're not you anymore. You know I've had years trying to secure my reputation? I have none of your privileges, Elias. I'm no Sabatier. I'm no star athlete. I'm not the most popular person in the Academy. No, my only way is out. And if this word reaches..." she sighed, drained out of her bloody life. 

    "I'm never going to leave."

     There was a pause from the other side.

    "You're not actually serious, right?" She heard him let out a nervous laugh. "You forget that I'm part of this rumour, too. It's not that bad—"

    "Because you're you." She whirled to him. "And I'm me."

     His brows furrowed, not understanding.

    "Because you're a womaniser, a player, someone to keep tallies on how many girls he's been with, a God," she continued, "and I'm the slut, I'm the joke here, I'm desperate, I'm the lucky one you took a shot with."

     It was unfair, this kind of treatment that had followed her for so many years in her life, and most likely to all others that were at the receiving end of Elias's antics. How he was praised and she was shunned.

     It. Wasn't. Fair.

    "Forget it," she muttered. "You won't understand—"

    "I didn't fucking say that." But he didn't add anything else, either. Confusion was still written on his face, his eyebrows creased in the middle, but underneath all that... whatever, Isla dismissed. She didn't want to imagine that she saw a bit of clarity behind those eyes. 

     It'd be too late, anyway.

    "Is that why you did what you did?" Elias asked quietly.

     This bloody wanker— "Because I'm tired of you!" Isla almost screamed. "I'm tired of all of you. Blackmailing me, walking all over me like I'm a welcome mat—"

    "What do you mean, all of us?"

     Isla scoffed. "As if you don't know—"

    "No, I don't." Not only did he sound earnest, but his gaze held no mirth or amusement this time. He was dead serious. His frown deepened. "And I've never blackmailed you."

     Shit. Did she say that one out loud?

    She shook her head to distract him from her slip. "You're so daft sometimes—"

   "Isla," he said sombrely, and she froze. He rarely ever said her first name. "Who's after you?"

     They had both stopped sweeping now, their attention focused on the person standing in front of them. Someone they were actually seeing. Isla, seeing his sincerity; Elias, seeing her frustration.

     For the first time, they weren't looking at each other in hostility.

     They were looking at each other with respect.

     She thought about avoiding the question, but she was done running away. "Who do you think hates me as much as you do?" She gave him a weak smile. "Doesn't take much to guess."

     He didn't return her smile, his mouth set on a taut line and jaw clenched as he truly considered what she was saying. The determination in him almost set her aback. 

     And then sudden realisation shone over his face.

    "It's Bl—"

     Just then, the wire sliding doors to the gym creaked open, startling both of them. Isla dare say she nearly dropped her broomstick. It was only then that she realised how quiet it had been in the room, with Isla and Elias so fixated in what each other had to say.

     A familiar face had entered.

     Will Hampton.

    "You didn't think I was just going to leave you alone, did you?"

     Isla instantly grinned at him. Finally, a friendly face. "Actually, I did," she quipped, "since you didn't even show up at the big battle."

     It was true that during the food fight, Will wasn't anywhere near the chaos. Isla didn't take it personally as he was the one she should thank for making the whole ordeal possible in the first place. 

    "Well, consider this an apology, m'lady."

     Behind him, a couple of younger students—a few underclassmen just a year below them, she suspected—strolled in, with their own broomsticks and other cleaning equipment. An older-looking one trailed last, stopping right next to Will.

    "This is Henry Lancaster," Will introduced. "For the most part, my accomplice-slash-associate. Occasionally, my best mate." 

     Isla blinked. Was this an Academy or a business?

    "Nice to meet you," Henry's stoic voice filled her ears, his hand outstretched. "I've heard much already about you."

     She raised her brows. "And I've heard... almost nothing of you."

     Will grinned, patting Henry's shoulder. "That's the way it works."

     In a quick Will Hampton fashion, he explained that the underclassmen were here to finish up Isla's work, and that it was pretty consensual—they had all previously struck deals with him to get some valuable goods, like cigarettes, greens, that type of stuff. 

     A transaction.

    "Isn't that called manual labour?" She flickered her eyes to the younglings. "Are you sure you guys are up for this?"

     One of them stood tall and proud. "We're sure, miss." Then they looked over at Will, almost fondly, like an older brother they could trust.

     Isla couldn't help but look impressed.

    "And how did the guards not see you?" she pushed further.

    "I have my ways. That's why Henry's here." Will winked at him.

     Henry just shrugged nonchalantly.

     Isla accepted the deal.

     As they were going through some directives, she stole a glance at the dark-haired boy standing a few feet away from them. She was relieved for that sensitive conversation to be over, but it sure as hell didn't seem that he was ready to move on from it. He was still staring at the ground, fixed at an imaginary spot as wires were untangling in his brain. 

     He caught her eye, and they locked gazes for a moment.

     She quickly turned away.

    "Alright, Kingsley, you're all set." Will extended a hand like he was Prince Charming. "Shall we?"

     Isla rolled her eyes and smacked his hand, a small smile on her lips. She could feel Elias's hot gaze at them, watching their interaction closely. Her cheeks and neck burned, but with what, she wasn't sure.

    "Sabatier," Will nodded, grinning. "Your hair looks nice today."

     Elias just scowled at him. He hadn't said one word to Will, and this sentence was the only one exchanged. Curiosity compelled her, but...

     That was a story she just didn't have time for.

A/N: This marks the start of change in Isla and Elias's dynamic. 

Their irrational hate is dwindling. Any guesses to what the next stage in their relationship is going to be?

(Also, yes, there are a few events coming up in the following months. Belfort Academy is pretty fun.)