THE DISCARDED LUNA‘S REVENGE

Chapter Six

LYRA’S POV

The heat hit me like a physical blow the moment I stepped off the transit bus at the bottom of the mountain. The valley air was thick, smelling of hot garbage, exhaust fumes, and the baking asphalt of four avenues.

I walked the four blocks to our apartment building, my feet throbbing inside my stiff boots. Every muscle in my body felt tight, exhausted from the sheer psychological strain of keeping my composure under the constant barrage of stares and whispers.

When I reached our floor, I stood outside the door for a long moment. I pulled the heavy, boxy blazer off, folding it carefully over my arm so my mother wouldn't see how the fabric had been twisted and stretched from the hallway altercations. I took a deep, shuddering breath, smoothing down my skirt, and forced the tension out of my jaw.

I unlocked the deadbolt and pushed the door open.

The apartment was filled with the rich, savory scent of boiling onions and cheap seasoned rice. The old window AC unit was clattering its usual loud protest in the corner, fighting a losing battle against the valley heat. My mother was standing at the small stove, her dark hair tied up in a messy bun, sweating slightly as she stirred a large metal pot.

She turned around instantly, her face lighting up with an intense, anxious hope the second she saw me. "Lyra! Oh, thank goodness. You're home."

She wiped her hands on a kitchen towel and rushed over to the small laminate table, her eyes scanning my face with frantic, maternal scrutiny. She looked at my hair, my collar, and then her eyes fell on the folded blazer in my arms.

"How was it?" she asked, her voice tight with a mixture of excitement and pure dread. "Tell me everything. Was the auditorium as grand as they said? Did you find your assigned locker?"

"It went well, Mom," I said smoothly, forcing a bright, easy smile onto my face as I set my backpack down on the kitchen chair. I shook out the oversized blazer and draped it carefully over the back of the seat, making sure the side that had hit the doorframe was facing away from her. "The campus is huge, but the orientation staff handed out very clear digital maps. I found my locker on the second floor of the main building without any trouble."

My mother let out a massive, trembling sigh of relief, her hand rising to her chest. "Oh, thank God. I’ve been sitting here by the stove all afternoon, just... my mind was running wild, Lyra. I kept thinking about those rich kids, wondering if they were snobbish or if they made you feel out of place."

"They were mostly just busy with their own schedules," I lied, my voice remaining completely level, completely candy as I walked over to the sink to wash my hands. "Everyone was rushing around trying to get their trimester seminar packages approved. Nobody really had time to notice a transfer student."

"And the uniform?" My mother stepped closer, her eyes drifting toward the boxy blue jacket on the chair. A look of deep regret shadowed her features as she touched the stiff wool. "Did anyone... did anyone say anything about the fit? I felt so sick after the machine broke, Lyra. I couldn't stop thinking about you walking into that fancy place with those huge shoulders."

I turned off the faucet, dried my hands on the paper towel, and turned to face her, keeping my expression entirely serene.

"Mom, half the students were wearing sports gear because they had athletic orientation right after the assembly," I said, offering her a casual, dismissive chuckle. "Nobody was looking at my blazer. In fact, most of the legacy students were so focused on their own friends that I completely blended into the background. It was exactly like we planned. I was invisible."

My mother’s shoulders dropped, the heavy lines of worry around her eyes finally softening. "Really? You're not just saying that to make me feel better?"

"I promise," I said, walking over to the stove to peek into the pot, deliberately shifting the conversation away from the ridge. "The rice smells amazing, Mom. Is Dad coming home between shifts today?"

"No, he called from the depot office," she said, her voice dropping into a quiet, familiar ache as she returned to the stove. "They have a massive shipping backlog from the West Coast docks. The manager told them anyone who logs out before nine PM will have their trimester overtime metrics reviewed. He has to stay."

"Then it’s just you and me tonight," I said, grabbing two mismatched ceramic bowls from the cupboard and setting them onto the laminate table.

"Just you and me," she smiled, ladling the hot rice into the bowls. She sat down across from me, her eyes reflecting the dim yellow light of the kitchen bulb. "I'm just so proud of you, Lyra. When I think about you sitting in those grand classrooms... it makes all of this worth it. The valley isn't our permanent home. Your father and I know that. This scholarship is the key to everything."

"I know," I murmured, staring down at the steam rising from my bowl.

Every word she spoke was a heavy reminder of why I had to keep my mouth shut. If I told her about Chloe's insults, Julian's deliberate shove, or the terrifying, suffocating promise of ruin that Gabriel Jakes had whispered into my ear in the middle of the rotunda, she would panic. She would see the bruises forming on my shoulder and she would try to pull me out of Garrison Heights to protect me. Her pride would break, and my father’s only chance at getting the resources to clear his name would vanish.

The class divide at Garrison Heights was a monster, but I would just have to learn how to walk through its teeth without getting bitten.

"Eat up, sweetheart," my mother said gently, reaching across the table to pat my hand. "You need your strength for the official first day on Monday."

"I will, Mom," I said, picking up my spoon and offering her one last, flawless smile. "I'm going to be completely ready."