Picture of Chase attached! Dedication to random comment: _surreality :)

O n e : System Activated

"Eric Monroe, please make your way to the Principal's office immediately. Thank you."

The ring of the intercom is almost inaudible in the noise.

Students swarm through the school hallway, buzzing like flies, and the air is thick with the stench of perfume and puberty. The first day after Spring Break is always a bit exhausting: freshman kids with new class schedules, girls with bad tan lines gossiping about their vacations, and people throwing themselves in exaggerated reunions. I pause mid-step at the mention of my name and almost instantly, a freshman boy stumbles into my back, eager for their next class.

Eric Monroe? I shake my head a little and sigh. I've had three and a half years at this school and the secretary still stumbles on that extra a. I abruptly turn on my heel and battle back through the crowds towards the school entrance. I've been in school for less than an hour and somehow, I've already managed to catch the boss' attention.

I'd have to be living under a rock to have not heard the rumours about Principal Blythe. However, I guess it hasn't quite sunk in yet that I won't be seeing my favourite, four-chinned, booming Mr Boston stalking the school hallways anymore. According to social media, our ex-Principal took a vacation to France and decided not to come back. I don't blame him to be honest, I'd much rather sit in the sun and drink wine all day than deal with some of the goofballs at Lindale High.

However, Mr Boston's gain is our loss. Principal Blythe is supposedly a stickler for discipline and obedience. I've heard that his old school in Hamilton had iron-barred windows. Like a prison. I wonder what I could have possibly done to get on Blythe's radar within the first hour of the new semester. I'm a bit outspoken and cheeky in class sometimes, but I've only just come out of homeroom and I'm not exactly a magnet for trouble.

People greet me on my way to the Principal's office, but I don't stop to chat. As well as finding people's excitement for school exhausting, I'm also too curious. When I finally reach the school reception, I'm almost out of breath. The room is small, boxy and unsurprisingly vacant, aside from the secretary sitting behind a pale birch desk. Brian offers me a thumbs up as he spots me. I cross my arms over my chest.

"Come on Brian, I'm Erika, you should know this by now. Erika. The female. Not the Eric."

"Oops, sorry kid." Brian says, stretching. Our school secretary is in his mid-twenties, wearing an un-ironed polo shirt and a goofy grin. Brian is somewhat of a legend for being so down to earth and friendly, and he tweets under his desk more than any student.

"I'm going to start calling you Bryony," I say, rolling my eyes. "Principal wants to see me?"

"Sure does. Go straight in, Eric my man."

"Thanks Bryony."

I approach the large wooden door and knock tentatively. Knocking on the Principal's door is always quite daunting, especially if you have no idea why you've been summoned. A smooth bass voice beckons me to enter. I push open the door.

Immediately across from me, Mr Blythe sits behind a large mahogany desk. The room around him, once plush with warm furniture and potted ferns, is now bare aside from a coffee cup and some framed diplomas. The papers and photos of Mr Boston's children which used to be scattered across the desk are now gone. As for the man himself, he and Mr Boston could not be more different.

Principal Blythe is dressed in a sharp suit, with piercing grey eyes that somehow make me feel like a rabbit trapped in headlights from metres away. He looks in his late forties, his hair is peppered and thinning. There's not a smile in sight on his clean-shaven face.

"Please, Miss Monroe," he greets in a smooth voice. "Take a seat."

"Sir," I greet awkwardly. I sink into the empty seat in front of me, dropping my bag to the floor with a thud. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes." Mr Blythe watches me calculatingly, shifting slightly on his chair. "Tell me, Miss Monroe, what are your hopes and plans once you finish your senior year?"

My goals can be summed into one word.

"Stanford."

Mr Blythe doesn't appear surprised in the slightest. He nods, as if he already knew the answer, or as if my answer bored him. "I have an opportunity for you, Erika." His voice is blunt and cuts straight to the point. "Should you take this opportunity, I can guarantee you a place at Stanford."

What? Doubt clouds my mind. What could he possibly want from me? I'm not the smartest student in school. I'm not the strongest public speaker. I'm not captain of a sports team, or a cheerleader or a technology genius. My throat is dry as I speak.

"What kind of opportunity?"

"It's a sort of Anti-Delinquent system."

He pauses to asses my reaction to his words, but my head is spinning a little and I must appear dazed. Anti-Delinquent System. It sounds like an assassination project. I bite back any sarcastic comments or questions. I'm a bit of an expert of sussing out which teachers will appreciate my sense of humour, and he does not seem like one of them.

"What is it?" I ask finally.

"The project is about exposing the acts of delinquents." Mr Blythe clasps his hands together, leaning back in his office chair. "We have five students in this school who have given us a bad reputation, and I want you to help us catch them in their actions. I want you to expose them for their tricks, the things they've got away with in the past. Only once these five students are removed can Lindale High become a school which is looked upon highly."

I blink. "You want me to snitch on them."

"Not all of them. Just one." Mr Blythe leans back, and the chair groans under his weight. "There are four other students who will also be helping. You will each be assigned to one person. Your job is simple: to get them caught. The rest is up to me and the school board." His grey eyes flicker over my anxious expression. "In return for your co-operation, I will utilise my connection with the Dean at Stanford to secure you a place there."

"You're bribing me." I say quietly. "That's why you've chosen me, because you know I want to get to Stanford, and you can get me there. How did you know?" I'm not entirely sure where my confidence is coming from, but when I look up at Mr Blythe, my eyes are narrowed.

"Your careers interview at the end of Junior Year is on record." His eyebrows furrow. "You will be focusing on the senior student, Chase Thatcher. Originally, Alec Ryder was also a candidate, however some teachers believe that he's changed his ways since he got a girlfriend last year. I guess we'll have to hope they're right."

"Oh." I chew my lip, as only one senior Chase comes to mind. As far as I know of Chase Thatcher, he's got everything pretty figured out. The guy is popular, has a fair number of girls drooling over him and has a few extra miles of confidence in stock. He's never been depicted to me as somebody who would act out. "Why is he a target?"

Principal Blythe purses his lips. "Chase has been arrested numerous times in the past six months for vandalism and violence and forced to do community work. He's been accused of drug possession and ran away from home for days at a time. Add this to an unsatisfactory attendance record last year and his aggressive reactions to authority, and the school board believes that we have a problem. I believe that we have a problem."

"Why are you pouncing on him so quickly?" I raise an eyebrow. "How do you know that he won't calm down again?"

"He wasn't exactly a saint before, Miss Monroe. His grades are below average, he's insolent and he has attracted attention from local authorities. He's a scar in the school's reputation."

"I have a question."

"Go ahead."

"Have you even tried to get through to him?" I ask quietly. "You've been here for five minutes and already you want him expelled. That seems a little extreme- I mean, I thought schools use expulsion as a last resort. Isn't that a scar on the school's reputation?"

Mr Blythe's expression is entirely blank. "Chase has made absolutely no proof to any of the cops, or teachers that he's spoken to, that he's improving. This is not a decision I take lightly. We need evidence, not opinions, and that's where you come in."

"Right." I sigh.

Mr Blythe grits his teeth and stares at the ceiling. "I advise that you don't take this opportunity lightly, Erika. Stanford is a fantastic school, and there are hundreds of other students I could ask instead. I thought you would appreciate the magnitude of my offer."

My stomach clenches as I think about Stanford. It's been my dream college for as long as I can remember. I glance down at my lap. "Can I please have some time to decide?"

"You have until the end of the day to get back to me, or it will go to someone else."

I nod and rise from my seat, collecting my bag from the floor. Then, as quickly as I can manage on wobbly legs, I dart to my escape.

"I hope you'll make the right decision," Mr Blythe says as the door closes behind me.

I instantly feel better in the cool air of the reception, and I lean against the wall with my eyes closed, focusing on my breathing. How am I going to make this decision? I don't know how I feel about throwing someone under the bus to get everything I want. If I help Blythe, I get Stanford. I get to study medicine at my dream college and become a surgeon. My parents would be proud of me.

Before I can get too lost in the fantasy of my mom being proud of me, I force myself to consider the downsides of this decision. It's selfish, for one. He seems like a decent person and kicking him out of school would permanently damage his record. People would be angry at me; I'd be angry at myself. It could ruin Chase's life, potentially.

Then again- surely, it's his own fault for doing bad things. Is it only inevitable that he's going to get caught? Maybe hurrying it along isn't that awful of me. Shouldn't he see some consequences?

"Um." A finger pokes my cheek, and my eyes open instantly. "Eric, are you alive?"

I frown at the secretary, who's clearly teasing me. "Yes Brian, I think Eric is alive. However, you might want to ask him yourself."

Brian chuckles. "Back to class, kid."

I nod and drag my body away from the wall and out of the reception. I need longer than a day to make this decision. I need advice, and research, and time to think things through.

Research.

I need to see for myself what Chase is like. I need to see what I'd be getting myself into. Determination slowly dissolves the knot of unease in my stomach as I walk through the empty hallway towards my first class. Yes. I'll see what Chase is like. Then I'll decide.

*~*~*

"No way, that is scandalous!"

Miko matches her pace with mine as we head towards my locker. She has one of those strides that only models can achieve; she always looks so damn graceful. That is, until you're her best friend and you've seen her with noodles hanging from her mouth or attempting to follow TikTok routines. "I can't believe they're actually doing this!"

Kumiko Tamura has been my best friend for over a year now, and she never fails to entertain me with her eccentricity. She's Japanese with a name that sounds like poetry, but she shortens it to Mickey, or Miko. I maintain that she should have poems written about her- one of those fiery feminist ones with a kick-ass female protagonist. Not only is Miko completely beautiful, with enviable skin and black hair that drips through her braids like ink, but she's smart and stubborn as a mule. That girl could be my muse any day.

"What are you going to do?" She wonders aloud, tugging at one of her braids.

"I'm going to talk to him, see what he's like."

"What if he's an ass?"

"Then I'll do it."

"What if he's not?"

"Then I won't."

"What if he's kind of an ass but also kind of not?" Her nose crinkles. "There are flaws in this plan, honey."

"Don't overcomplicate it," I whine.

"Crap, he's right over there!" Miko's voice falls to a frantic whisper, and she grabs my forearm and pulls us to my locker at the side. Chase is standing a little further down the hallway with my friend Anya Khatri, a pretty cheerleader who moved from India. Immediately, I open my locker and pretend to fumble for something in an attempt to look inconspicuous. I feel all kinds of creepy as I watch her place a hand on his forearm. I'm not quite sure what I'm staring for, it's not going to provide me with any answers.

"I think she's upset," Miko whispers.

I focus on Anya's face and, sure enough, it's creased with anguish. The hand on his arm suddenly looks less like flirtatiousness and more like desperation. I watch Chase in shock as he plucks her hand from his forearm and flings it aside. Anya, perhaps the sweetest girl I've ever met, bursts into tears and hurries away down the corridor. Chase turns to face his locker again.

"What an ass," Miko comments from behind me.

"Tell me about it," I mutter.

"Oh no, I meant his actual ass. It's divine."

I roll my eyes and shut my locker door. "It looks like it needs some kicking."

With a refreshed sense of determination, I push myself away from the wall of lockers and approach Chase. When I'm merely feet away, his eyes finally snap to mine. I feel a rush of guilt, but I refrain from letting any of my feelings seep into the emotionless mask of my face. Calmly and confidently, I come to a stop and lean on the locker beside him.

There's no doubt about it, Chase Thatcher is one of the most attractive heartthrobs at our school. His eyes are a rich chocolate brown, his hair is tousled, and his skin is beautifully tan on his tall, fit frame. I try not to let those things intimidate me as I smile and release a slightly forced: "Hi."

Stood this close to him, it's hard not to notice minor details which make him even more attractive, and suddenly the huge appeal to him makes sense to me. Chiselled jawline and cheekbones, full lips and sparkling eyes- I can kind of see why girls turn so brain dead in his presence.

"Do I know you?" He asks cautiously. "If I met you on Saturday night, I'm sorry but I was drunk out of my mind. I don't do second dates."

And just as quickly as it arrived, the attraction disappears.

"Good for you," I scoff. Does he really forget what girls look like so often that he uses it in his introductory line? "No, you don't know me actually. I'm not an ex of yours."

"Oh, okay." Chase seems relieved, but the emotion only lasts for a fleeting second. I'm not the only one wearing a mask in this conversation. His eyes roll over my body, lingering on my bare legs in my short, denim skirt. "In which case, we can go out. I can make dinner reservations if you want but give me a call so I can make the arrangements." He slides something from his back pocket into my hand and finishes with a winning smile that lasts for half a second.

Then, his gaze flutters around the hallway, distracted.

"I- what?" I say blankly.

"I said yes, we can go on a date."

"Well that's mighty lucky for me, but I didn't ask to go on a date." I was expecting him to be charming, and overly flirtatious but a decent guy. This guy is an egotistical and assumptive asshat.

"You didn't?" Chase seems genuinely surprised.

"No, you just assumed." My nose scrunches. "I didn't come to profess my love, or beg for a second date, or give you my number or anything of that nature."

Chase frowns, his dark eyes glinting. "What is it exactly that you want then?"

"A conversation, maybe?" I let some of my irritation dribble into my tone, and my hands shoot up beside my head, palms facing him in a sarcastic form of surrender. "Maybe to know why you hurt Anya like that? She's a really sweet person you know."

Chase crosses his arms over his chest. I don't allow myself to do more than glance at the vein running over his bicep. "Is that really any of your business?"

"She's my friend."

"So, no, then."

God this guy is annoying. "I'm just saying, why date girls if you're just going to ditch them right afterwards? Surely that's an incredibly lonely way to live."

Emotion flashes in his dark eyes, and he leans forward until he's only inches away from my face. "I don't do second dates, that's my choice. Not your business. Another thing I don't do? Pointless conversations with girls like you."

Chase steps away from me, shoves his hands in the back pockets of his skinny jeans and stalks down the hallway away from me. I watch him leave in shocked silence, and I'm frozen to my spot beside his closed locker. I think back to the list of things that Mr Blythe told me Chase had done. Accused of taking drugs. Violence. Vandalism. Arrested numerous times. Detentions. Community service charges. This guy really does deserve to be expelled. Speaking to him has solidified my decision to take Mr Blythe up on his opportunity.

Acting impulsively, I grab my phone from my back pocket and enter the number written on Chase's note into a new text. I type with shaking hands, and without hesitation- press send.

It must be hard to see how you hurt people, with your head so far up your ass. You seemed pretty desperate for a date, so I'll make sure to give this number to someone in need. Don't fret, asshole, I'm sure someone will like you one day 😊

I'm going to get Chase Thatcher shown to justice.

Anti-Delinquent System activated.

A/N: Hello lovelies!

Firstly, I wanted to say a massive thank you for the amazing support I've received in my return to Wattpad. You are all incredible and so lovely, I can't wait to share more of this book with you. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, the next one will be out on Friday :)

What are your tips for becoming popular on Wattpad?

I usually summarise this with CCD: Cover, Comments, Description. My absolute top tip is to get a good book cover. Myself and many others are much more likely to click on books with pretty covers than those without. If you're not as good with picture editing yourself, find a cover-maker. There are lots of talented people on here who love to photoshop images, and you can reward them with shoutouts or dedications. Second tip: Description. Make it short, sassy, unique and GRIPPING. Leave some unanswered questions, and don't make the plot obvious. Finally, COMMENTS. So, so underrated. Dedicate to commenters and reward them because every time someone comments on your story, their followers see the action in their own feeds. This spreads awareness of the book without the need for charts/tags.

See you later alligators,

Cherry x