The canteen was alive with chaos — clattering trays, food flying in corners, students shouting across tables like it was a gladiator arena of lunchtime politics.
In the middle of it all sat Squad C-7, now complete with their newest honorary chaos gremlin: Trollin.
How Calvin convinced him to join lunch was a mystery, but here he was, already locked in a petty squabble with Calvin over who got to sit beside Velmira.
“She clearly said I could sit here,” Calvin argued, elbowing his way in.
“She didn’t say you, she said ‘someone,’ and that someone has two working brain cells,” Trollin growled.
Velmira pinched the bridge of her nose. “You two realize I can sit alone, right?”
Neither of them backed down.
Eventually, everyone settled. They dug into their food, filling the table with everything from noodles to whatever questionable meat Rio found appetizing.
Mid-bite, Calvin suddenly smacked the table. “I have a mission!”
“Let me guess,” Rio sighed. “It’s dumb.”
Calvin ignored him. “Kael! You gotta patch things up with Selene.”
Kael, chewing quietly, blinked. “...What? Why? I didn’t do anything.”
“Exactly! When dealing with girls,” Calvin said, raising a wise finger, “you apologize even when you don’t know what you did wrong. It’s like rule one.”
A hand smacked the back of his head.
“Don’t teach him that,” Velmira muttered, still holding her tray like a weapon.
She turned to Kael, softening. “Look, maybe she felt… I don’t know, overshadowed. You did win first place. Got all the attention. That stuff stings sometimes.”
Calvin and Trollin stared at her like she just spoke ancient magic.
She caught their ears. “Try being decent humans. It won’t kill you.”
“Yeah, man,” Rio chimed in. “Also, if she joins the crew, our squad rating gets an instant power-up.”
Kael groaned. “So… we’re bribing a murder queen to upgrade the team?”
Trollin nodded solemnly. “I support this plan. Also, I may or may not have given her permission to mess with you.”
Everyone turned.
“Not that I meant it!” he quickly corrected. “It was hypothetical!”
“Cool. So I’m gonna die,” Kael muttered.
“No no,” Calvin grinned. “You're gonna apologize… like a man. Go on!”
Kael stood up, still chewing, dread in his soul.
Across the canteen, Selene sat alone — composed, elegant, and very much not radiating “please talk to me” energy.
Kael took one step, then stopped. “Do I… take anything?”
Calvin’s eyes lit up. “Of course you do! You never go without a peace offering!”
Then, like a predator striking, he snatched Rio’s juice.
“HEY! That was mine!” Rio cried.
“Now it’s diplomacy!” Calvin declared, holding the drink high with dramatic flair.
“Take this,” he added solemnly, like he was bestowing a legendary weapon. “It’s not just juice. It’s symbolic reparation.”
Kael stared at the juice. Then at Calvin. Then at his friends.
Velmira gave him a thumbs-up. “Girls like surprises. Go!”
Rio gave him a thumbs-down. “She’s going to kill you.”
Kael sighed, turned, and made his way toward her — juice trembling slightly in his hand.
And then the gods betrayed him.
Just as he reached Selene’s table, someone behind him stood up, bumping into his back.
Splash.
The juice — the cursed, betrayal-born juice — poured down over Selene’s head, soaking her perfectly kept hair, uniform, and pride.
Kael stood frozen.
Selene was still. Drenched. Her once-perfect hair clung to her face in fruit-scented vengeance, like a soggy halo of doom. A half-eaten plate now rested above her head, stuck like a crown forged in pure rage.
Then her eyes opened.
“You.”
Kael squeaked. Yes, squeaked.
“First on the stage. Then the dorm. Then class,” she roared, rising like a goddess of wrath. “You NEVER give me peace!”
She swung her plate like a battle axe. Kael ducked just in time.
He turned to his squad.
All of them had their hands on their faces, watching through their fingers like they were witnessing a tragic live-action train crash.
Kael silently mouthed: Help me.
Calvin mouthed back: RUN.
Kael didn’t wait for a second signal.
He dived out the side window and vanished like a ninja escaping his own funeral.
Later that day, the gang regrouped in the classroom.
Kael returned like a soldier from war — hair wild, uniform ripped at the sleeve, and an expression that said he’d seen things no man should see.
Calvin scooted over casually, hands up like he wasn’t the cause of the mayhem. “Hey man…”
Kael grabbed him by the collar and slowly started squeezing his neck — not hard enough to choke, but hard enough to ruin Calvin’s next three minutes.
“You. And your stupid gift. And your diplomatic juice box.”
“My bad! My bad! I was just trying to help—”
“Boys.” Velmira’s voice sliced through like a general on a battlefield.
She stepped in, pried them apart like a mom separating toddlers.
Kael collapsed into his seat, exhausted. “She lives next to me. What am I supposed to do now?”
Calvin rubbed his neck. “Okay. Maybe… more gifts.”
Kael glared.
“Right. No gifts. No juice. Not even coupons. Let me think. We’ll fix it. Promise.”
Kael looked across the room.
Selene sat at her desk — still faintly stained with juice, arms crossed, scribbling something in her notebook with deadly calm.
Was it notes?
Was it a kill list?
Kael didn’t want to know.
He slumped forward with a groan. “I’m so dead.”