CHAPTER 9: THE OUTSIDE WORLD
1477 Words
The final bell of the day hadn't even stopped ringing before Eloise packed her laptop and slipped out of the classroom, completely bypassing the crowded lockers. When Jake tried to flag her down in the hallway, she didn't stop. She simply texted the boys' group chat: Don’t wait for me. Going straight to work. I’ll get home myself.
Mike hadn't spoken a single word to her since he publicly humiliated her in the cafeteria. He hadn't texted, hadn't looked her way in the halls, and had completely vanished back into his fortress of elite varsity silence. It stung, but Eloise forced herself to bury it. She didn't need him. In fact, her afternoon had been brightened completely by Ethan Grey. Their conversation during lunch had given her a massive rush of adrenaline. He had listened to her ideas, praised her perspective, and given her the exact intellectual push she needed to start taking her music seriously. For the first time, someone in Oakridge saw her potential, not just her invisible status.
An hour later, Eloise was in the locker room of the Gable Stables, pulling her vibrant copper waves into a tight, impatient ponytail and switching her cream knit top for her work uniform—a heavy denim button-down, sturdy cargo pants, and worn-in riding boots. The air here smelled of hay, polished leather, and cedar shavings. It was hard, physical labor, but it was her sanctuary.
She was mid-sweep in the main barn aisle when Marcus, one of the older stable hands, walked up, wiping sweat from his brow.
"Hey, Gilbert. You’ve got a visitor out by the main mounting block. Asking for you specifically."
Eloise paused, leaning heavily on her broom, her hazel eyes blinking in genuine shock. "A visitor? For me?"
"Yeah. Rich kid, by the looks of the car."
Eloise’s stomach did a nervous flip. She didn't have friends in Oakridge. Her mother and her younger sister were miles away, and even if they were here, her mother would be working, not making social calls.
Setting the broom aside, Eloise walked out of the shaded barn into the blinding afternoon sun. Standing gracefully next to the white wooden fence was Allie Grace Vance.
Allie looked entirely out of place against the rustic backdrop of the stables, yet she managed to look like a magazine cover. She was still wearing her pleated school skirt and designer sweater, her platinum blonde blowout completely unbothered by the light breeze. She was scrolling through her phone, the gold rings on her manicured fingers catching the light.
Eloise stopped a few feet away, crossing her arms defensively. "Hi."
Allie snapped her phone shut, turning around with a smooth, perfectly practiced smile. "Hey, Eloise."
Oh, so she actually knows my name, Eloise thought bitterly, recalling how Allie had treated her like background furniture just hours earlier in English class. Aloud, she kept her voice level. "You're curious how I found where you work?" Eloise asked, her tone dry.
Allie let out a soft, melodic laugh. "I asked around. It’s a small town, Eloise. I have to talk to you about something." Allie stepped closer, her expensive vanilla perfume battling the earthy scent of the stables. The warmth in her eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp calculation. "I heard a rumor today. A rumor that you’re living on the Weller estate."
Eloise kept her face completely deadpan. "I stay in the detached guest house because my mom is out of state for work."
"Right. The estate manager's daughter," Allie said, her voice dripping with a sweet, toxic poison. She tilted her head, her cold blue eyes locking onto Eloise’s 5'9" frame. "Look, I’m only telling you this because I care about the social order of this school. Don't see this living situation as an opportunity into Mike’s life. If you do... prepare for the very real consequences. Girls like you get crushed in worlds like ours, Eloise. Aren't I nice enough to drive all the way out here to give you advice?"
Allie flashed the absolute fakest, most brilliant smile Eloise had ever seen. It was terrifyingly polite.
Eloise didn't back down. She stared straight into Allie’s cold eyes, her jaw hardening. "I won't. Mike and I barely talk anyway. I’ll stay away from him."
Allie’s fake smile softened into something genuinely satisfied. "Good." She turned on her designer heels, taking a few steps back toward her pristine white sports car, before pausing and looking over her shoulder. "You know, you're smarter than the other girls around here. I can tell you and I are going to be the absolute best of friends."
With that final, chilling line, Allie entered her car, started the roaring engine, and drove off, leaving Eloise standing in a cloud of white gravel dust.
By the time Eloise finished her shift and took the long, exhausting bus ride back to the Weller estate, night had completely fallen. Walking across the dark lawn, the main mansion was glowing with lights, and she could hear the booming, chaotic sounds of yelling and video game explosions echoing from the upstairs lounge. Jake and Chad were clearly up there with Mike, raiding the kitchen and screaming at a TV screen.
Slipping quietly into the detached guest house, Eloise finally let out a breath she felt like she’d been holding all day. She went upstairs to her bedroom, peeled off her dusty stable uniform, and took a long, scorching-hot bath to wash away the scent of horses and Allie's perfume.
When she stepped out, she dressed down into pure comfort—a pair of tiny, faded grey cotton shorts and an oversized, baggy black vintage tee that hung loosely off her shoulders. She twisted her damp ginger hair up into a loose, messy bun, a few wild copper strands framing her face.
Before heading downstairs, she walked over to her desk and opened her hidden wooden saving box. She pulled today's cash earnings from her pocket and dropped them inside, listening to the satisfying crinkling of the bills. Soon. If she kept working these grueling after-school shifts, she would finally have enough money to buy the professional musical instruments, software, and recording equipment she desperately needed. That was the only reason she tolerated this town.
Her stomach let out a loud, aggressive growl. She was absolutely starving.
She walked downstairs to the cottage kitchen, checking the stainless-steel fridge. Since Mrs. Weller insisted on keeping the guest house fully stocked for "appearances," there was an abundance of fresh ingredients. Eloise decided to make a massive, comforting pot of jollof rice—rich, smoky, and packed with spices—along with seasoned grilled chicken. As the savory, rich aroma filled the kitchen, she realized she had made way too much for just herself.
Sighing, she packed the majority of the food into large glass containers, walked across the dark lawn, and left it on the main house's kitchen counter with a note that simply read: For the boys. She didn't want to see Mike, but she knew Jake and Chad would probably starve without her cooking.
Back in the cottage, after eating her fill, the house felt incredibly heavy and quiet. Eloise grabbed her phone, plugged in her headphones, and walked out onto the dark, secluded patio of the guest house. She laid down on the plush outdoor lounge chair, staring up at the starless Oakridge sky.
She turned on her music, letting the nostalgic, jangly guitar strings of The Smiths—her absolute favorite band—flood her ears.
She closed her eyes, mindlessly humming along to Morrissey’s melancholic voice. Slowly, the humming turned into soft, quiet singing, her vocal cords vibrating with a raw, emotional depth as she sang into the empty night air.
As the music played, her mind inevitably drifted back to the chaos of the day. She couldn't tell Mike what Allie had done. He wouldn't even talk to her anyway. He had completely changed the second the school doors opened, showing his true, arrogant, old-money self.
I miss how we were during the summer break, Eloise thought, a heavy, frustrating ache forming in her chest. I miss the boy in the dim warehouse who looked at me like I mattered.
But as she rolled onto her side, she forced the thought of Mike Weller out of her head. She pulled up her text messages, staring at the contact name Ethan Grey.
It’s okay, she reassured herself, a small, genuine smile finally tugging at her lips in the dark. My crush actually spoke to me today. He thinks I'm brilliant. Maybe... maybe I will finally have a boyfriend who actually sees me.
- Writer
