Amarya's electrifying blue eyes stared endearingly at Joan. They curled upwards into half-moons. Light reflected off irises, creating stars that blinked innocently at Joan. Her unique blonde hair messily swept to the side and cascaded down the sides of her cheeks, water falling to her mid-back in curls and sharp detours.
Her stunning presence drew shocked glances from around the room, particularly the boys.
Who was that? She was gorgeous by all beauty standards.
Amarya fed off of their starstruck stares, relished in the attention. It stroked her too large ego and boosted her confidence over the moon.
Amarya was well aware of her good looks, and she capitalized on them to get whatever she desired. It was easy to have everything handed to her with her looks, be it good grades, hot boys, or the admiration of others.
Rem's stoic appearance intrigued her. Amarya was envious of Rem's waist-length, midnight black hair that was so different from her own. Everything about Rem was to the T: her posture, appearance, and behavior.
It was as if she didn't belong here. She seemed better suited in a monarchy than in an underfunded public school educating the bottom of the row children.
"Lighten up," Amarya pouted. "It was a joke."
"I guess you're not meant to be a comedian then," Rem said. Viktor approached her with a shocked expression. How could she say such a cruel thing to a little girl?
The corners of Amarya's mouth twitched. It was rare for someone to insult her openly. After all, what was there to insult? She was a hot gamer and good at fighting. She was a 'bad boy's' dream.
But Joan wasn't a 'bad boy' nor was she interested in girls.
"Aw~ don't be so mean!" Amarya tilted her head down with a pout and lightly shook her head. Her hair swayed along with her head, creating a rushing river.
It was a staple move in Amarya's 'How to Get Someone to Like You' guide. After years of living on the edge and reeling in affection, she was a self-declared pro at manipulation.
She knew what people wanted to see and hear: interest, loyalty, pride, honesty, respect, and sacrifice. Their common enemies were her common enemies; their interests were her interests. Amarya matched everything to the person she was interested in.
Every time, she convinced them she was willing to sacrifice for them. She was an excellent actor and even better at adapting.
"Class is about to start. Go back to your classroom," Joan waved Amarya off.
What was she talking about? Lunch had just started!
Amarya huffed. "The people in my class are mean," she said with a tinge of sadness. Her act immediately reeled in the boys around Rem as well as everyone in the classroom. She could tell by their enraptured expressions. It wouldn't take much for them to be in the palm of her hand.
But Rem's expression had stayed the same. From the moment Amarya entered the room until now, not one thing had changed.
Rem wasn't annoyed, nor was she interested in Amarya.
Confusion wracked at Amarya. Without a response from Rem, she wouldn't be able to tailor her behavior. Amarya lightly smirked. This made things all the more interesting.
Viktor laughed and awkwardly patted Joan on the back. "That's fine. You can stay here, right, Rem? If they're mean again, you can just say you're friends with us." He proudly desperately pointed at his chest to impress Amarya.
For once, Joan's expression changed. She turned to look at him with disgust. "Are you that thirsty? Go."
"What?" Viktor asked in confusion.
Joan pointed to the door. "Go to a strip club. I don't want to be infected by your filth."
Navier awkwardly looked between the two. "You have needs, Viktor. It's okay. I respect that," he said innocently and gave him a thumbs up.
Viktor snarled at Navier. "What are you looking at?" He reached out to push Navier's cheek away.
As he did so, the world around Navier immediately changed. He was sitting on the tiled bathroom floor once more. His cheek throbbed as tears numbly streamed down his cheeks. His body was exhausted from hiccuping, sobbing, and being brutally beaten.
Navier instinctively flinched away from Viktor's outstretched palm. At his move, a guilty expression crossed Viktor, Pablo, and Turner's face. Viktor's hand halted, and he scratched the back of his next instead.
"Sorry," Viktor mumbled.
"Oh, sorry, sorry," Navier replied earnestly as he bowed his head repeatedly.
From the slight interaction, Amarya had already drawn up an image in her head. So Viktor was a school bully, huh?
Well, that wouldn't be a problem. School bullies were her specialty; from Damien to Viktor, they were all the same. Unfortunately, she couldn't say the same for Rem, whose every move made Amarya more and more confused.
No one was emotionless, yet Rem fit the exact definition. In frustration, Amarya gnawed at her perfectly stubby fingernails while Rem was looking away. They were short of years of picking and biting. It was her only flaw, but they tended to be useful in combat. Long nails would only get in the way of exchanging fists.
"Hey, Amarya," Turner chirper. "Want to come with us to the arcade after school? Let's play some Mortal Strike together!"
"Are you asking me to boost you," Amarya innocently giggled.
Turner lopsidedly grinned and held his hands up. "You caught me," he admitted as he leaned back on his chair.
Amarya took the opportunity to set her palm on his thigh. She gently pushed him back down, so his chair's four legs rested firmly on the ground. "Be careful," she warned with a teasing gaze.
A red-flush dusted Turner's cheeks. Mesmerized, he stared at Amarya's hand that rested on his thigh.
Joan stared incredulously at Turner.
"You're going to be replaced," PK noted.
"So? It's not like I care," Joan hissed under her breath. However, a stir of jealousy caught her breath. Would they stay if she was as pretty as Amarya?
Amarya's sharp ears caught Joan's whisper, and she cast a side-glance at the scowling girl. The slight furrow of Joan's brow gave it all away.
"So she's the jealous type, huh?" Amarya smirked to herself.