Chapter 3: Knight in Ironed Blazer

“So, what do you wanna get for lunch?”

Jackson asked as we wove through the hallway crowd, sticking close so we wouldn’t lose each other in the sea of students spilling out from classrooms.

It had been two weeks since I started at this school. I’d met a handful of people, but only one counted as a close friend; the one currently dragging me toward the cafeteria.

Jackson Marley, Arts major. We shared a few classes, sat next to each other once, started talking, discovered some shared interests, and that was that. He wasn’t exactly popular, aside from the arts club knowing who he was. I’d been debating joining the club myself when I first got the offer from Jack.

“He’s still better off than me. At least he’s not a walking target of that guy” I muttered under my breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head quickly, waving it off.

Jackson just shrugged and tugged on my blazer sleeve until we reached the cafeteria doors. Inside wasn’t too crowded, most students were already seated or queued up at the counter.

We grabbed our trays and found ourselves twenty-something people back in line. My stomach immediately protested. Skipping breakfast after waking up late over a forgotten alarm, and then waiting for the bus because Cynthia took one car and parent's took the other, itwas clearly coming back to haunt me.

“You know,” Jackson said casually, cutting my train of thoughts “you and Cynthia really don’t look alike.”

“Look closer.” I deadpanned, tired of the same statement I got since day one. I turned my head away just as it was finally our turn to order. I scooped up mashed potatoes with mixed veggies, two slightly burnt slices of buttered toast, and spaghetti carbonara.

Jackson, on the other hand, piled his plate with cafeteria junk: limp fries, two slices of greasy pepperoni pizza, some chicken nuggets, and ironically, a single slice of apple, as if that balanced it out.

My health conscious self cringed.

“You know, you could try eating healthier,” I pointed out as we sat at a table already half-occupied by his art club friends.

“It’ll be a miracle if he does,” Jade Hauxley said, smirking. She was a striking redhead from the literature department with a knack for painting massive canvases, Jade wasted no time poking at Jackson’s diet before we even took our seat.

Jackson slammed his tray down dramatically and started arguing with her about how she's just jealous that no matter how much he ate, he barely gained weight, of course Jade didn't take that kindly. I just shook my head and slipped into the seat next to Matthew.

Matthew Smith, the art club’s vice president. Jackson had told me he used to be a star basketball player, one of the school’s best, until an injury on his knee forced him to quit. He’d joined the art club afterward, got voted for president, but declined, he still couldn't get away from responsibility as he was put on VP role to which he didn't seem to mind.

Matthew gave me a quick glance, eyes flicking from my tray to my face, before looking straight ahead again.

“Hey,” I greeted.

“Hey.” And that was it. Every time we sat together, that was all he ever said. At first I thought he didn’t like me, but I’ve realized he’s just a man of few words, quite literally.

Lunch was peaceful, as usual. Honestly, I’d expected to end up eating alone in some corner near the trash bins after my disastrous first day. Sure, I was already Deacon’s personal shoulder-check target in the hallways, and he’d taken to tossing crumpled paper at me during history, but I could handle that. It wasn’t serious bullying. Just… consistent irritation.

Still, it wasn’t something I was used to. I’d grown up pampered, even with Mom’s strict rules and razor-sharp words, I’d always been loved. Dad was busy but warm when he was around. At my old school, I’d been social, even outgoing. I’d never had to deal with actual hostility.

“Deacon’s a third year, right?” I asked Matthew, munching my burnt toast with a bit of dismay.

He hummed in confirmation, sipping banana milk, eyes wandering.

“Then why’s he in my history class?”

“Because he’s a dum-dum,” Jade answered before Matthew could, already done with her banter.

Jackson swallowed a mouthful of fries and added, “He failed history, won’t take tutors, doesn’t care about grades. His family donates big money here, so the principal just let him retake the class.”

“For three years?”

“Mhm,” all three replied at once.

I sighed. Deacon wasn’t ruining my life or anything really, but still… annoying was annoying. Jackson must’ve sensed my mood dip because he slid closer, threw an arm around my shoulders, and patted my back.

“Cheer up, Lex. If Deacon’s being a pain, tell Mr. Jason. He doesn’t like him either, perhaps he’ll move your seat.”

“And let someone else take my place as Deacon’s chew toy? No thanks.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and held his hands up in surrender.

Feeling stuffed, even with food left on my tray, I stood to clear it away. A bit of carbonara and one bitten piece of toast remained, but I was done.

“Wait— take mine too— ” Jackson grabbed the edge of my blazer suddenly.

The suddenness of the pull threw me off balance, I was always a little clumsy when startled, to top it off my foot suddenly caught on a stool leg and the tray decided to have wings as it flew off my hand.

I let out an embarrassing squeak as gravity betrayed me, but before my face could slam into the table edge and possibly crack my skull, Matthew moved with lighting speed. Former athlete reflexes. He caught me by the waist, holding me steady. Relief flooded through me, and I almost smiled but—.

“WHAT THE FUCK !?”

My stomach dropped. I knew that voice too well. I prayed I was wrong though.

“YOU DAMN SHORT STACK!”

Nope. Not wrong. The silly nickname gave it away.

I opened my eyes to see Deacon standing there, absolutely drenched in leftover carbonara. The sauce was smeared across his blazer, dripping onto his shoes, noodles clinging to his shoulder, and the sad piece of toast sliding off his cheek with a pathetic plop.

His eyes went pure murder when they landed on me. His gang stared in shock, one trying to smother laughter. Across the room, Cynthia sat with her clique of popular girls, calmly eating her lunch, shaking her head and continued like everything's fine, like she’d never seen me before in her life.

Thanks, Sis.

Matthew’s grip tightened on me as Deacon stomped toward us, fist cocked and ready. Matthew braced to block him, muscles coiled, but I panicked. Matthew already sacrificed his basketball career once, he didn’t need his face smashed because of me.

I tried to push him out of the way but the guy wouldn’t budge, of course. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for impact—.

A shrill whistle split the air.

Everyone froze.

At the cafeteria entrance stood Maximus Pierce, student council president, whistle between his lips, glare sharp enough to cut steel.

“Rule number seven of the student handbook,” his voice boomed, steady and commanding. Definitely a no-nonsense type of guy “No physical fights on school grounds. Punishable by four hours’ detention. Cause injury, and it’s expulsion.”

My heart skipped a beat. Okay, maybe two. Maximus radiated authority, and not just because he was stupidly good-looking for me.

Deacon snarled, eyes going back and forth between the entrance and me but soon dropped his fist and walked away, fuming. Maximus intercepted him on his way out at the door, gripping his hand and leaning in to whisper something. Whatever it was, it left Deacon seething more as he stormed off with his gang in tow.

Matthew’s hold softened as he steadied me upright. “You okay, Lex?” he asked quietly, genuine worry in his voice, for the first time ever.

I just nodded, still rattled, face flushed and slightly trembling.

Maximus strode into the cafeteria. Girls squealed and sighed all around, some even fanning themselves. I swear someone fainted in the corner. When he got near our table his eyes instantly landed on me; cool, sharp, and assessing.

“Name?” he asked, voice strict.

“A-Alexander Moore,” I stammered, mentally kicking myself at how lame I sounded.

Maximus was quiet for a moment upon hearing my name, he let his eyes roam the cafeteria, looking for someone till it landed on Cynthia then his eyes returned to me “Come see me in the student council office.” His gaze swept over me once, lingering just long enough to send a shiver down my spine.

“Now,” he ordered before walking away, leaving the cafeteria buzzing like a shaken soda can. A flock of girls immediately abandoned their trays to chase after the campus heartthrob as if he’d dropped a trail of designer cologne.

The rest of us stayed frozen. Jade, Jackson, and Matthew all stared at me; worried, tense, as if I’d just been sentenced to public execution. I forced a sheepish grin, slinging my bag over my shoulder with a shrug.

“See you guys later?” I said, aiming for casual and landing somewhere near dead man walking.

Jade sniffled and nodded, still too stunned to form words. Jackson’s guilt was written all over his face; I shook my head and gave him a reassuring pat. None of this was his fault anyway.

Matthew offered to come with me, but I waved him off. The fact that he’d even volunteered to be my human meatshield earlier was already more than I deserved. No way was I dragging him deeper into my stupidity.

As I walked away from our table, I caught one last look at their faces— they looked like they were watching me march into a firing squad. My stomach knotted. Deep down, a creeping fear gnawed at me.

I just hoped whatever came next wouldn’t drag my parents into this mess.

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