Cassia And the Alpha Triplets

Chapter 4.

Chapter 4: A Different Kind of Deal

The bell rings, signaling the end of first period, and I quickly gather my things, eager to make my escape. Mina and Tina’s reaction to my quick wit still lingers in my mind. The way they laughed, genuinely amused, wasn’t something I expected. I can’t remember the last time someone outside of the pack treated me like I was anything but invisible or inferior. It’s strange—oddly nice, even.

As I stuff my notebook into my bag, I feel their eyes on me. “You know, Charity,” Mina says, her voice still laced with that sarcastic sweetness, “I didn’t know you had it in you. Maybe you could actually look good if you weren’t always dressed like you’re about to scrub a floor.”

Tina chimes in with a laugh. “Yeah, girl, get yourself some money, and you could be a total knockout. That hair alone? If you had a stylist, you’d be dangerous.”

I glance down at my patched jeans and worn-out jacket. The words, while they might be meant as playful, land heavily on me. I suddenly feel the weight of my clothes, the discomfort of being so visibly different from the girls around me. I pull my sleeves down, trying to hide the frayed edges.

Before I can answer, I feel the familiar tension of wanting to deflect the conversation. “I’ve got math,” I mutter, avoiding their eyes. “See you later.”

I walk quickly toward my next class, the sounds of their laughter fading behind me. My heart beats a little faster than usual. It’s strange—part of me wants to take their words to heart, to believe that maybe I could look better, feel better. But another part of me knows that’s not me. Not yet.

As I walk into Mr. Johnson’s math class, I breathe a sigh of relief. This is one of the few moments I get to escape my reality. Mr. Johnson, the football coach and math teacher, is one of the only adults in this school who sees me for who I am—not for where I live or who my guardians are. He sees me as someone with potential. And to him, I’m just another student—one who’s good at math, which is a small victory in my book.

“Cassia Duskwood,” he calls, handing me an envelope with a big red A+ written on it. “Keep up the good work.”

I smile, grateful for the validation. His praise is rare and meaningful, especially given the environment I have to endure every day. Mina and Tina, who sit beside me, both slump in their seats, their heads hanging as Mr. Johnson hands them their papers. Both have failed the assignment, their grades a sharp contrast to mine.

“Looks like I’m acing this class while you two are barely scraping by,” I say quietly, not to gloat, but just to make a point. I know they can hear me, but I don’t care. They’ve been nothing but cruel since I stepped foot in this school, and today, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I might just be winning at something.

Their eyes flicker with annoyance, but they don’t say anything. Instead, they stare at their papers as if the grades don’t matter. But I can see it—the way their cheeks redden slightly, the way they try to hide their embarrassment.

Just then, Ashton Peters, a popular football player and one of the triplets’ friends, saunters past my desk. He’s always been arrogant, like the triplets, only with less of the biting cruelty and more of the “I’m too cool for school” vibe.

Ashton bumps my desk with his elbow, and before I can even blink, all of my papers go flying off the surface, scattering across the floor in a chaotic mess.

“Oops. My bad,” Ashton says, a grin playing at the corner of his lips.

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. I don’t need to make a scene. He’s just trying to get a rise out of me, like they all do.

But as I lean down to gather the papers, Ashton doesn’t move to help. Instead, he watches me, clearly entertained by my struggle.

Mr. Johnson notices the scene and narrows his eyes. “Ashton,” he says in his deep voice, “help Cassia clean that up. Now.”

Ashton groans. “Aw, come on, Coach. I’ve got practice—”

“Not until you help her. You can’t just mess with someone’s things and walk away. That’s not how we do things here.”

Reluctantly, Ashton bends down and starts picking up the papers with too much speed, like he’s trying to make it seem like he’s doing me a favor. His movements are exaggerated, and I can tell he’s only making the situation worse. I can’t help but feel irritated.

“I didn’t need your help, you know,” I mutter under my breath as I bend down to grab the last of my papers.

Ashton pauses, looking at me with that cocky smirk. “Well, you got it anyway,” he says, before doing the one thing that really pushes me over the edge.

He reaches for my hair tie.

I don’t even have time to react before he pulls it off, tossing it in the air with a chuckle.

“Hey!” I say, jumping to my feet, reaching for it, but Ashton’s already gone. He’s practically running out the door, laughing with his friends as they head to football practice.

I stand there, fuming, my hair falling around my face, completely untamed. I try to pull it back into a bun, but it’s no use. My curls won’t stay in place without the tie. I’m left standing in the middle of the classroom, feeling ridiculous and defeated.

Mr. Johnson watches me for a moment, then sighs. “Don’t let him get to you, Cassia. You’re better than that.”

I nod, though I don’t quite believe him. It’s hard to feel better than that when you’re constantly being picked on by everyone, even the people you’re supposed to look up to.

By the time lunch rolls around, I’m ready to be done with the day. I’m exhausted—physically, emotionally. I’m not used to feeling so weighed down, but today has been different. First the teasing from Mina and Tina, then Ashton’s prank, and now the constant reminder that I’m stuck.

I find a quiet corner in the cafeteria and open my lunch—just a simple sandwich and an apple, nothing special. I’m about halfway through when Mina and Tina slide into the seat across from me, catching me by surprise.

“We need to talk,” Tina says, a little more serious than usual.

“About what?” I ask, though I already have an inkling.

Mina grins. “About how you’re going to help us with our homework. Mr. Johnson gave us an ultimatum—ace our homework or get suspended from the cheerleading squad. And we both know we can’t afford that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “And what makes you think I’ll help you?”

Tina shrugs. “You’re good at math. We’re not. It’s a simple trade. We’ll scratch your back, you scratch ours.”

I pause, weighing my options. This is my chance. I’ve been wanting to feel special, to have a moment where I don’t just blend into the background. And maybe this could be it.

“I’ll help you,” I say, my voice steady, “but I want something in return.”

Both girls stare at me. “Like what?” Mina asks, her expression shifting.

“My eighteenth birthday is coming up,” I say quietly, my heart pounding in my chest. “It’s on the same day as the triplets’. And every year, my birthday gets lost in the chaos of their celebration. But I want to feel special for once. I want to look good—just for one night.”

Tina’s eyes widen. “Wait, so you want a makeover?” she asks, incredulous.

I nod. “I don’t care about anything else. I just want to look good for one night. Can you help me with that?”