IF DREW IS HALF AS CONVINCING as he was when he got Benjamin, Delaney and Leah onside, we might actually stand a chance.

Even though the Monarchy tried to cancel the Mathletes, sabotaged the Debate Club in sophomore year and bullied Leah's younger sister, all three of my friends agreed to attempt to talk to them civilly. I have no doubts that they would have heaps of things to say to them, but civil things? That list is probably empty.

Nevertheless, Drew hums a cheerful tune as he peruses the paper in front of him. I don't know what he told each of them, but at least they're on board.

He's taken charge of the planning. He explains that all five of us need to strike on the same day, when they're separated. If one of the Monarchy relays to Brittany that we've confronted them, she'll probably tighten ranks and not let any of them be alone. Strength in numbers.

"Pick your fighter," he jokes. The five Monarchs' names are written on a small notepad. Delaney swipes the notepad, not hesitating for a second. When she leans back, and we lean in, I realise where she wrote her name.

Next to Brittany's.

Leah and I exchange a puzzled stare. If she had the first pick of the Monarchs, surely she wouldn't pick the person who infuriates her the most? Maybe Reece, or Terrence. Delaney would run verbal laps around both of them.

"Uh..." Leah hums. "Delaney? You know what this is for, right? The person you wrote your name down next to is the person you need to—"

"—talk to and try to get them to change sides," Delaney completes, laughing airily. "You really think anyone is going to convince Brittany to change sides? Of course she won't, but while the rest of you are doing your simultaneous persuasions, I'm the one who stands the best chance of keeping her occupied."

I guess Delaney does have a point. It's only reasonable she be the one to take Brittany, since she is on the Debate team — which makes her both a better arguer, and a bigger target for Brittany.

Her grey eyes alight with a vicious glee. "I'm going to put her through the wringer."

I wince as I imagine the decibels those two girls will reach when they clash.

Leah takes Madison. I take Terrence. Drew takes Reece. I think it's Reece and Derek that Drew is really concerned about, because he doesn't mind that Leah and Delaney — inevitably, though no-one's said it aloud — are only going to lambast the girls. I only hope this little sympathy mission won't hurt Drew more than he already has been.

"Benny!" Drew exclaims, glancing behind us. I whirl around in the seat, seeing his familiar frame approach the table.

He looks tired, but nothing compared how tired I've been feeling these past few weeks. Sinking into a vacant chair, he lets out a groan and rubs his eyes. "Sorry guys, Mathletes practise ran later than we anticipated. They were handing out the final information for the qualifying competition."

"Don't worry," Drew chirps. Nothing can dampen his mood today. "I hope you don't mind, but you have to talk to Derek. Yay."

Benjamin, unexpectedly, smiles icily, a look that I will gladly never see again. "Perfect. I'm going to knock his dead eyes out of their sockets—"

"—talk to Derek," Drew corrects him. "Peacefully. With manners, and empathy."

"Ugh. You were serious? I thought your message was code for giving him a piece of my mind."

"Not code this time. I mean it." The hopeful, slightly pleading expression in Drew's eyes must convince Benjamin, because he lets out a resigned sigh.

He grits his teeth, and says curtly, "Fine."

Drew speaks up, "I was thinking we do it tomorrow, because that's the soonest class I have with Reece."

Leah agrees, "I have Music with Madison, fourth period."

"Tomorrow is the qualifier."

"Oh. Well, can we do another day?" Leah asks.

"Is there another day all of our and the Monarchy's classes align so we can all talk to them at the same time? Because if any of the Monarchy catch on, they'll tell Brittany, and we'll never be able to get them alone," Delaney points out.

After comparing our schedules, we arrive at the conclusion that Wednesday is the best day to do it. Otherwise, we might not be able to separate the Monarchy from each other. "Next Wednesday?" I suggest.

"I want it to be as soon as possible," Drew says, "Before it gets any worse."

We know what he means. At the moment, they're still not as cohesive as they were before winter break. We don't want another repeat of the newspaper. Or they'll shake off the remnants of the ceasefire and get more untouchable than ever.

Leah offers, "What if Sophie talks to Derek for Ben? I mean, we both have Music with Madison and Derek. If I talk to Madison, you could keep Derek from interrupting us. And vice versa."

"Yeah, that way, Benny could do his competition and we'd still get the same results," Drew agrees.

The logic is sound, but my brain is screaming not to do it, because I heavily dislike Derek. Then again, I told Drew I would do whatever he needed of me. Everyone's looking at me hopefully.

And I know that Benjamin missing his competition is not an option. He deserves it way too much for something so little to stop him. Even the Revolution.

"Fine. But you guys owe me."

Delaney chuckles, stabbing her fork into a chunk of chicken. "Add that to the list."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

My heart thuds in harmony with my footsteps as I walk to my first class, thinking of what to say to Derek.

I've not thought of much else this morning. I'm the only one with no personal agenda to get off my chest. Delaney is excited to rip into Brittany, Leah wants Madison to feel her wrath — on Faune's behalf — and Drew has a history to sort out with Reece. Benjamin had something personal to say to Derek but Mathletes takes priority­ for him, and I — stupidly — agreed to take over the responsibility.

They all have ulterior motives for the persuasion. I think that's going to interfere with their execution and end up not convincing the Monarchy of anything. The persistent suspicion that I am the only one who is going into this with actual persuasion in mind chisels a frown into the corners of my lips.

"Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be."

Leah is a picture of determination and menace today, but I understand why. I would do the same for Lucas before he had a chance to defend himself. "Thanks for doing this. I know as soon as Derek gets suspicious about me being there, he'll tell Brittany about it. After all, they're here to be her guard dogs. So if he catches a whiff of our plans, he'll guard."

"Yeah. I'll keep him distracted so you can talk to Madison. How long will that be?"

"I don't know. I'm planning to take her outside the classroom, not that Mr. Quesnel will even notice. Keep a watch for when I come back inside."

Leah and I arrive at Music, where the worst and most fumbled conversation of my life is waiting for me, hungry-eyed and growling. I wish Mr. Quesnel would be more attentive to the students, actually, because then I would have an excuse not to talk in class.

Leah pauses outside our Music classroom, violin in one hand and the door handle in the other. "It's go time," Leah says, before she swoops in.

She heads over to Madison, whispering something that makes her shaded eyebrows furrow. And, upon realising that words just won't work, Leah plucks the phone out of her hands and walks briskly out of the room. Desperately attached to her phone, Madison hasn't much choice but to follow angrily.

I observe that whole scene through sideways glances, because Derek, at the back of the classroom, holds my attention like he holds his head up: with an air of doom.

He hears Madison squealing, rising to go after her. But before he can, I'm sliding into the seat adjacent to him. "What?" he asks bluntly, his expression carefully blank.

Looking at him is strange, even though I've seen Derek plenty of times before. I've never had to force myself to be calm around him, or even regard him with something akin to civility. When I'm so used to ignoring him, how can I even break down his walls enough to get a reply? Maybe he'll beat me up for bothering him.

"Keep staring," he smirks, rising from his chair. "I'm going to check on Mad—"

No. I can't let him do that. Leah hasn't had nearly enough time.

"Was Brittany blackmailing you when you left Drew for her, or did that start afterwards?" I didn't mean to start with such a cutting question, but he was going to leave.

Derek flinches and a bolt of guilt flashes in his eyes. The first palpable emotion I've seen on his face. Probably because I haven't ever looked intently, but it's still encouraging to know that he's human underneath his stony exterior.

Derek slowly sits back down.

I know right away that Derek doesn't fuck around with niceties. Reece was pensive, and Terrence is always talkative — but in both their cases, they were equally willing to have a conversation. He's only here because I've captured his attention; he'll only remain here if I can hold it.

"Heh." Beneath his bored, devil-may-care attitude, I can see a very perceptive boy who cares more about his surroundings than people think. It's obvious in the way Derek looks at back me. He knows exactly that I'm here to distract him, but also curious about what I might say, and sceptical about what I might do. "So you're finally playing the game."

I hate the knowing stare he levels at me. Playing the game. Like we're on even ground, he and I. Somehow I feel uncomfortable saying anything more. The blackmail, Derek's dislike of Brittany — I only found out through questionable actions, eavesdropping, and now I'm using it in an even more questionable manner.

What happened to manners and empathy? "I'm not playing anything," I say politely. "I'm just curious."

Derek clicks his teeth, shaking his head at my tone. He doesn't appreciate niceties. "Who told you? Tee. You cracked him. I thought you would—"

"It wasn't Terrence."

"Oh? Oh. Reece told you. So you're making your way around." His eyes darken several shades, and a shiver races down my spine. "Is it my turn now? You got some sly trick up your sleeve to get me to talk? Blowjob behind the storage shed?"

My disgust shows on my face; I flinch before I can steel myself. Derek smirks menacingly, taking my reaction as a victory. "Hands more your style?"

Okay. I see how it is. No manners at all. "Must be pretty damning. The thing Brittany has over you."

"Clearly," Derek drawls coldly.

I don't respond, keeping my face equally blank. Derek inspects me closer, his eyes searching mine. I make sure not to retreat, holding his gaze with a persistent fire. He is going to answer my questions.

"After. Started after," he says quietly, relenting. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. Derek's eyes shutter. "And that's all you'll get out of me. I'm stronger than Tee and Reece."

I'm still bristling from the lewd comment he made earlier. I feel like making him uncomfortable in return, stoking a reaction from his damned impenetrable face. "Not really. Maybe you're better at not talking, but you're not stronger." Derek scoffs incredulously, only to scowl at my next words. "Because you won't walk away from her either. You're just as cowardly as they are."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I do." No, I don't. But I can't back down. Derek is made of steel and ice, so I need to be more unyielding if I am to get to him. "Strong people don't bend to anyone."

Derek nods mockingly, cocking his jaw to the side. He surveys me with a lazy, analytical glint in his black irises. I hold myself still and look back. Benjamin was right. Those eyes really are dead.

"You think I should be more like you," he eventually concludes. "Rise up and fight. Be strong," he mimics. "Well, life isn't a matter of strength. We don't get to pick who we play."

"You're very disillusioned."

"And you're very idealistic. That look in your eye," Derek suddenly announces. I glance down at my lap, extremely aware that his voice has taken on a triumphant lilt. "You've got a raging hero complex. Why do you try to save everyone? Is there someone you couldn't save?" he ruminates remorselessly, quietly enough that no-one else is impaled by his careless words but me.

I'm instantly five years old again.

My Dad? Now, there is a strong person.

I have memories of Dad hanging me upside down on his arms and swinging me through the living room. Of him scolding me for spilling the food Mom toiled to make for me.

Him cutting off the shaft of a broom and tying it to the back of my bike, so he could hold it while I tried to learn how to balance on it. I remember screaming at him for letting go; he promised he wouldn't — even though I rode all the way down to the end of our long driveway back in California.

I remember finding out that he was the tooth fairy and demanding he pay me more than a dollar otherwise I would tell Mom that he told me, even though she wanted the illusion to last as long as my childhood.

I don't remember the military hero Mom tells me about. That my relatives deified, telling me that I must miss him. That his colleagues deified, giving heartfelt, legendary eulogies at his wake. I don't ever remember seeing him in uniform.

But then again, I don't remember a lot of Dad. I have childhood photos, but I can't call his face in my mind without seeing Luke's eyes and Vallen's jawline. His face is a wet painting that life runs its hand over every single day, smudging the lines, blurring the colours. His memory has been swallowed up by all those who came after.

But I remember I loved him— Love him. I love him. God.

It's just been so long.

"Bingo," Derek murmurs.

I'm sucked back into the Music classroom, staring death in the eye. He tips his head to the side, a flash of some unknown emotion running through him before I can grasp it. Before I can drag it to the light and make him vulnerable in front me, like he just did.

His hand is reaching for me, and my gaze immediately zeroes in on his outstretched finger. Is he going to finally hit me? But imagine my shock when Derek simply runs it along the length of my cheekbone, drawing it back to find it wet.

I cried? I haven't cried over Dad in years.

"Welcome to the game," he says wryly, his voice noticeably softer. Almost... gentle. "You don't get to choose who you play. But I don't either."