The Throne Cracks
1141 Words
Lizzy stepped out of the car like nothing in the world could touch her.
Mr. James opened the door before the engine even fully settled, as he always did. The morning air brushed her skin, cool and sharp, and she lifted her chin slightly, letting it hit her face. Her posture was perfect. Back straight. Shoulders relaxed. Control stitched into every movement.
Anyone watching would have thought she was fine.
She wasn’t.
As she walked toward Oakwood High’s entrance, she could feel it....the quiet shift. Not loud enough to be obvious. Just enough to notice. Conversations dipped. Laughter softened. A few students slowed their steps, pretending to adjust their bags or check their phones, anything to avoid crossing her path too directly.
Usually, Tasha and Shrin would be beside her by now.
They weren’t.
Lizzy didn’t turn to look for them. She didn’t need to. She could feel them somewhere behind her, hesitating, unsure. That alone irritated her. She hated hesitation in others. It felt like weakness brushing against her skin.
She kept walking.
Inside the hallway, lockers slammed shut a little too quickly. Someone whispered her name, then stopped. Lizzy caught her reflection in the glass trophy case as she passed. Flawless. Unbothered. Queenly.
Good.
Let them think that.
In class, she took her seat and crossed her legs slowly, deliberately. Her bag rested neatly at her side. She folded her arms and stared ahead, jaw set. The seat beside her remained empty.
She preferred it that way.
A few rows back, she sensed movement. Tasha and Shrin slipping into their seats, glancing her way. Not gossiping. Not laughing. Watching her carefully, like people unsure whether to approach a wild animal.
Good, Lizzy thought bitterly. Let them sit with that.
The bell rang.
The classroom settled into that dull, restless quiet that always came before announcements. Lizzy tapped one manicured finger lightly against her arm, once, then stopped. She was too aware of everything today. The scrape of chairs. The hum of the lights. The faint smell of cleaning solution mixed with perfume and cheap cologne.
Her head felt tight.
The door opened, and the principal stepped in.
“Good morning, class.”
A half-hearted chorus replied.
“Today,” the principal continued, “we’ll be welcoming a new student into Oakwood High. She has joined us on a full scholarship.”
That word "scholarship" did something unpleasant in Lizzy’s chest.
She leaned back slightly, eyes narrowing.
“Her name is Ruth Daniels. Ruth, you may come in.”
The door opened again.
And Lizzy’s breath caught.
It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. It was just… wrong.
Ruth stepped into the room quietly, hands clasped in front of her. She wore her pleated dress neatly, plainly, like it actually meant something to her. Her hair was pulled back simply. No effort to impress. No need.
Then Lizzy saw it.
The chain.
Thin. Silver. Resting against Ruth’s collarbone. A small moon pendant caught the classroom light as she moved.
Lizzy’s stomach twisted.
The room blurred at the edges for half a second, and suddenly she wasn’t fully in the classroom anymore. Darkness pressed in from memory. Chains. Cold air. A girl standing in light while Lizzy stood bound.
She clenched her jaw hard.
Get a grip.
The principal smiled gently. “Class, this is Ruth Daniels.”
A few students murmured. Some stared openly. Others leaned toward their friends, whispering.
Lizzy didn’t move.
Her eyes locked onto Ruth’s, and for a brief, unsettling moment, Ruth looked back. Not frightened. Not defiant. Just… aware. Like she could feel the tension without understanding it.
That made Lizzy angry.
“Ruth,” the principal said, scanning the room, “you may take the empty seat there.”
She gestured directly beside Lizzy.
No.
Lizzy recoiled slightly, covering her nose with two fingers.
“Oh my God,” she said loudly. “Is it just me, or does something smell… off?”
A ripple of laughter moved through the room.
Ruth froze.
Lizzy turned her head slowly, eyes sharp. “I mean, I can usually fix unpleasant things,” she continued smoothly, “but this?” She waved a hand lightly. “This feels… permanent.”
More laughter. Someone snorted. A phone lifted discreetly.
Ruth’s shoulders slumped just a fraction.
“Please don’t sit near me,” Lizzy added, voice sweet and poisonous. “I don’t want whatever that is rubbing off.”
The principal’s smile vanished.
“Miss Lizzy,” she said firmly, “is there a problem?”
Lizzy sighed dramatically. “Yes, ma’am. There is. I don’t want this poor girl sitting next to me.”
The class erupted. Gasps. Laughs. Whispers.
Ruth’s face burned. She stood there, trapped between humiliation and instruction, eyes fixed on the floor.
The principal straightened. “That’s enough. Ruth, please take a seat elsewhere.”
Ruth nodded quickly and moved to an empty desk near the window, keeping her head down.
“Miss Lizzy,” the principal said coldly, “come with me. Now.”
Lizzy rose from her seat, irritation buzzing beneath her skin. As she walked past Ruth, she felt that strange pull again, like invisible threads tightening around her ribs.
She didn’t look at her.
In the principal’s office, the door closed with a soft but final click.
“What you did was unacceptable,” the principal said sharply. “Bullying and harassment will not be tolerated at Oakwood High.”
Lizzy leaned against the desk, arms crossed, expression bored.
“I was just being honest.”
“That wasn’t honesty. That was cruelty.”
Lizzy shrugged. “People are too sensitive.”
The principal studied her for a long moment. “This is your final warning. The next incident will come with consequences.”
Lizzy met her gaze without blinking.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Dismissed, she left the office and returned to class, her heels clicking softly against the floor. The room went quiet when she entered.
She sat down, reclaiming her seat like a throne.
Tasha and Shrin watched her carefully now. Guilt written all over their faces.
After class, they approached her hesitantly.
“Lizzy,” Tasha began softly, “about yesterday—”
“We should’ve listened,” Shrin added. “We’re sorry.”
Lizzy looked at them for a long moment, measuring. She hated apologies. But she hated being alone more.
“Next time,” she said coolly, “don’t make me feel stupid.”
They nodded quickly.
When the final bell rang, Lizzy walked out first. Mr. James was already waiting. She slid into the back seat without a word.
As the car pulled away, she glanced out the window.
Ruth stood near the school gate, moon pendant glinting faintly in the sun.
Lizzy’s chest tightened.
The throne was still hers.
But something...someone...had cracked it.
- Writer
