'History project and Language class,' Dolores muttered under her breath, flipping through her schedule. The prospect of both activities filled her with a sense of dread. Their Founders' Day project group, consisting of herself, Emmeline, and Imogen, had yet to land on a decent idea. Language class was another hurdle – Italian, of all things. Chloe's reassuring words, 'Surely a Vynce wouldn't stoop so low,' did little to quell the gnawing anxiety in Dolores's stomach.
Every student at Grimstone was required to participate in a sport, and Dolores had opted for basketball, a choice fueled by a desperate hope of some physical activity. Today, however, her enthusiasm had waned considerably. While other students zipped across the court, dribbling with practiced ease and cheering with each successful shot, Dolores found herself relegated to the sidelines. Dressed in the school's regulation grey jersey, she sat perched on a bench, feeling more like a spectator than a participant. The rhythmic thwack of the basketball against the backboard and the enthusiastic shouts of the players seemed to belong to a different world.
Dolores sought solace in her weekly schedule, hoping for a glimmer of excitement in the upcoming classes. A sliver of hope – Art class tomorrow. Grimstone boasted a renowned art program, and Dolores yearned to lose herself in the vibrant world of colors and textures. Her fingers absentmindedly brushed against her backpack, where a worn leather-bound sketchbook peeked out. A glimpse of the unfinished landscape sketch within ignited a spark of anticipation-
BONK!
The world spun for a moment, stars exploding behind Dolores' eyelids. Her hand flew to her face, the throbbing pain radiating from her nose promising a magnificent bruise. Gasps and stifled giggles pierced the sudden silence, a symphony of shock and amusement.
Dolores lurched to her feet, vision blurring as she searched for the culprit. There, across the court, stood Axel Vynce. His smirk was as infuriating as it was devastatingly handsome. He mirrored her attire – the same regulation grey basketball jersey clinging to his broad frame, a single strand of dark hair defying gravity to curl across his forehead.
That as'hole!!!
Dolores wanted to scream, to unleash a torrent of expletives that would make sailors blush. She wanted to march across the court, grab him by that smug smirk and shake it loose. But a stronger instinct, a desperate need for self-preservation, held her back. A Vynce making a scene? Social suicide. Better to nurse her wounded pride in silence and avoid further humiliation...damn it.
Dolores opened her mouth to unleash a retort, a fiery response that would leave Axel speechless. But before the words could form, another voice cut through the tense silence.
Dolores felt a surge of fresh anger as the voice interjected. A tall, muscular figure with a sandy brown hair sauntered closer, his gaze bouncing playfully between Dolores and Axel. "Woah, woah, woah," he playfully drawled "Looks like the newbie just got launched into orbit!"
Dolores whipped her head towards the newcomer, her anger momentarily diverted. This new guy, mischievous glint in his eyes, seemed to revel in the drama. He nudged Axel with his elbow, a hint of amusement dancing in his gaze.
"Probably broke her nose," he chuckled, his gaze finally landing on Dolores. His carefree tone lacked any genuine concern, though. "You might be in for some serious trouble, Ax."
Dolores gritted her teeth, forcing down the sharp retort that burned on her tongue. Blood trickled down her nose, staining her jersey, a physical reminder of Axel's deliberate act. She needed to stay calm. Chloe and Nadia's warnings echoed in her mind.
"Does it hurt?" the newcomer drawled, feigning concern.
Axel finally spoke , "Hmm, turns out your nose doesn't have the same reflexes you had during the assembly."
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dolores forced a smile onto her face. It probably resembled a grimace, but it was the best she could muster under the circumstances. She couldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her crumble. Ignoring the throbbing ache in her nose, she straightened her shoulders, projecting an air of forced confidence.
"Nice shot," she called out, her voice brittle but clear. "Looks like you finally learned how to aim."
"Touché, Torres," he conceded, bouncing another ball. He gestured towards the sidelines with a slight nod. "Go see the nurse. And maybe," he added the smirk on his face vanishing, "stay out of the line of fire next time."
Dolores shoved her books back into her backpack with a vengeance, the straps biting into her shoulders. Anger coursed through her veins, hotter than the throbbing pain in her nose. 'That dipshit,' she muttered under her breath, a string of even less polite epithets following in her mind. 'That piece of shit, that..that jerk...'
Axel Vynce, with his smug smirk and deliberate throw, had managed to elevate Dolores' annoyance to a whole new level.
Ignoring the curious glances she received from passing students, Dolores stormed towards the school clinic, a heavy oak door marking the entrance. Pushing it open with a huff, she marched in, her steps echoing on the polished linoleum floor.
Behind a counter overflowing with medical supplies sat a woman with silver hair pulled back in a tight bun. Her head was buried in a large book, brow furrowed in concentration. Dolores cleared her throat, but the woman remained oblivious. Impatient, Dolores reached out and gave a sharp ring to the small bell perched on the counter.
The sound startled the woman, and she jerked her head up, eyes widening in surprise as they landed on Dolores' nose. The frown that settled on her face was as formidable as the lines etched around her eyes.
The silence stretched as the nurse stared intently at Dolores' nose. Finally, she reached for the phone with a grim expression.
The nurse spoke into the receiver, her voice low and professional. It sounded like she was contacting one of the school's doctors. "A student with a potentially broken nose," the nurse explained, glancing back at Dolores. "Yes, quite a bit of swelling and some bleeding."
Dolores shifted uncomfortably under the nurse's scrutiny.
After a brief conversation, the nurse hung up the phone. "Alright, young lady," she said in a softer tone. "Looks like you'll be seeing Dr. Patel. He's one of the school doctors. Second door on your left."
Dolores mumbled a hesitant thanks, her focus entirely on her throbbing nose. She shuffled past a set of glass doors, their weight creating a soft whoosh as she entered the sterile environment beyond. The antiseptic smell did little to ease her anxiety her hand instinctively going up to touch the rapidly forming bruise.
Just then, she spotted Imogen emerging from one of the doors. Relief flooded Dolores – a friendly face amidst the turmoil.
Imogen's brow furrowed as she saw Dolores. "Dolores! What happened?" she exclaimed, her gaze dropping to the crimson stain blooming on Dolores' uniform.
Dolores let out a humorless laugh. "Apparently," she drawled sarcastically, "one douchebag thinks my face makes a better basketball net than the actual hoop."
A grimace contorted Imogen's features. "Oh, wow. That sounds awful. Must hurt like crazy."
Dolores winced, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "No kidding," she muttered.
Imogen offered a small, sympathetic smile. "Look, I'm in a rush to get to English, but I'll see you in History, alright? And try not to deck the jerk who did this."
Dolores managed a weak smile in return. "Yeah, see you then."
With a final concerned glance at Dolores' injury, Imogen scurried down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, Dolores squared her shoulders and pushed open the door marked "Dr. Patel." It was time to deal with the aftermath of Axel Vynce's little game, and while the pain in her nose was real, so was the growing determination in her heart. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.