Winter looks up, her stomach sinking at the sight of Sylvia.
Of course, she would pick now to cause trouble.
The universe seems determined to make this day as miserable as possible.
“You’re not supposed to be here, Winter,” Sylvia sneers, her eyes flicking over Winter’s tray with disdain.
“You should be eating with the lower-class students. That’s where you belong, with the rest of the trash.”
Winter clenches her jaw, trying to stay calm, but Bonnie isn’t having it.
“Leave her alone, Sylvia,” Bonnie snaps, standing up for her friend as she always does.
“Winter’s allowed to eat here. She has every right.”
Sylvia narrows her eyes, clearly enjoying the confrontation.
A cruel smile plays at her lips.
“Oh really? Because last I checked, she’s not middle-class. And yet she’s here, acting like she fits in. It’s pathetic. Actually, it’s embarrassing for all of us.”
Winter puts her hand on Bonnie’s arm, signaling for her to stop.
“I’ll handle this,” she whispers, then stands up slowly, facing Sylvia with more confidence than she feels.
“Why do you care so much, Sylvia? Is it really that important to you where I eat?”
The question comes out calmly, measured.
Sylvia rolls her eyes dramatically.
“You think you’re better than everyone just because you got some pity from the middle-class crowd. But we all know the truth. You’re poor. You’re nothing.”
She spits the words like venom.
Winter feels her anger flare, hot and sharp, but she keeps her voice steady.
“You think I care about what you think of me? You’re upset because you think I tried to steal your boyfriend, Chad. But guess what? Chad asked me out. He tried to sleep with me last month. I turned him down, and now he’s throwing a tantrum because he can’t handle rejection.”
The truth hangs in the air between them.
Sylvia’s face turns red, her hands balling into fists.
“You’re lying!”
The shout draws more attention from nearby tables.
“I don’t need to lie, Sylvia.”
Winter steps closer, her voice unwavering despite her racing heart.
“Maybe if Chad respected you enough, you wouldn’t have to worry about him going after other girls. Think about that.”
Sylvia’s expression darkens, rage contorting her features.
In a fit of fury, she slaps Winter’s tray off the table, sending food scattering across the floor with a loud crash.
“You don’t belong here!”
The scream echoes through the cafeteria.
A hush falls over the room as students stop what they are doing to watch the commotion unfold.
All eyes turn toward Winter and Sylvia, the tension palpable.
She can feel the stares and whispers, the judgment and curiosity pressing in from all sides.
Before she can respond, the doors to the cafeteria swing open with a loud clatter.
Heads turn toward the entrance, and the entire room seems to freeze.
The headmistress strides in, her sharp heels clicking against the tiled floor with authority.
But she isn’t alone.
Behind her, to Winter’s shock, are Marcus and her mother, Sarah.
Bonnie gasps beside her.
“Oh my God, what’s going on?”
The whisper barely reaches Winter’s ears.
Winter’s stomach drops as she sees Marcus’s eyes sweep the room before landing on her.
A chilling smile crosses his face—one that doesn’t reach his eyes—as he and Sarah reach their table.
Something about that smile makes her skin crawl.
The headmistress clears her throat and addresses them with formal politeness.
“Miss Winter Sinclair, your mom and dad are here to see you.”
Winter’s eyebrows rise at the headmistress addressing Marcus as her father.
The word feels wrong, foreign.
But before she can comment, Marcus steps forward, his arm around Sarah in a possessive gesture.
“Hey, young lady,” he says warmly, though Winter detects something artificial in his tone.
“Your mom and I are here to pick you up. We’re leaving for Transville today.”
Winter’s mouth falls open at the surprising news.
“Today?”
The word bursts out, her voice cracking with disbelief.
“You said we had a week! You promised!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
Sarah’s eyes fill with remorse, and Winter can see genuine regret there.
“Something important came up for Marcus at work. If we don’t leave now, we’ll have to wait another month. I know this isn’t what we planned, but—”
The murmurs around the cafeteria grow louder as students begin to realize what is happening.
Winter Sinclair, the girl who had been considered an outsider, is now about to become part of the upper class.
The irony isn’t lost on anyone.
“Wait, what?” She stammers, looking between Winter and Marcus in confusion.
“That’s right.”
Marcus’s gaze briefly flicks to Sylvia, and Winter sees a flash of satisfaction in his expression.
“Winter is going to be my stepdaughter. We’re moving to Transville, where she’ll be attending a new school—one of the finest in the upper-class district.”
The whispers turn into a full-on buzz.
Everyone seems to be talking at once, stunned by the revelation.
Winter stares at Marcus and her mother in shocked silence, her mind reeling, until Bonnie grabs her hand.
“Win, this is happening too fast. You can’t leave now!”
Bonnie’s whisper carries desperation, her brows creased with worry.
“We haven’t even had our sleepover. We haven’t said goodbye properly.”
“I know.”
Winter’s whisper comes out broken, cracking under the weight of emotion.
She turns to her mother, giving her a pleading look that she hopes will change everything.
“Mom, I need more time. I haven’t even said goodbye to Bonnie properly. Please, just a few more days.”
Sarah shakes her head, her voice soft but firm, apologetic yet unyielding.
“I’m sorry, but we have to go now, baby. Everything has been prepared. The movers are already at the house.”
Winter turns her gaze to Marcus, who is watching her with that same unsettling stare he had given her the night before—intense, calculating, as if he is studying her reactions.
She sighs, knowing there is no escaping this.
The decision has been made, and she is powerless to change it.
Bonnie seems to come to the same conclusion because her grip tightens on Winter’s hand.
“Don’t worry, Win. It’s okay. You’ll call me, right? We’ll talk all the time?”
Her eyes glisten with unshed tears, and Winter can see her friend fighting to stay strong.
“Of course.”
Winter promises, turning to face her kind, understanding friend.
Tears well up in her own eyes, blurring her vision.
“I’ll call you as soon as I get there. I swear. Every day if I can.”
They hug tightly, neither wanting to let go.
Winter breathes in the familiar scent of Bonnie’s strawberry shampoo, trying to memorize this moment.
But Marcus’s voice cuts through their embrace like a knife.
“It’s time, Winter.”
His tone is firm, brooking no argument.
With one last look at Bonnie—at her best friend’s tear-streaked face—Winter steps away, feeling the weight of her new reality settling over her like a heavy cloak.