Chapter 11
Vi carefully placed a small amount of the pink substance into a glass chamber, hooking it up to a vacuum pump she happened to find in the junkyard. Slowly, she twisted the dial, reducing the air pressure inside. At first, the shimmering liquid sat still, almost serene, refracting faint patterns across the glass. But as the pressure continued to drop, tiny bubbles began forming along its surface, growing larger and more erratic. Vi leaned in closer, her notebook open, pencil hovering over the page. Without warning, the liquid surged violently, releasing a sharp pop. The chamber cracked with a jagged line, and a faint, glowing mist hissed out into the air.
Vi recoiled, coughing as she waved her hand to disperse the vapor. The crack in the chamber glinted under the light, tiny fragments of its residue clinging to the edges. Her heartbeat quickened as she examined the damage, muttering under her breath, “Not stable under low pressure.” Grabbing her pencil, she jotted the observation down, her thoughts racing as the shimmering mist left faint streaks on the broken glass.
She shifted to another test, placing the vial in a small metal dish and positioning it above a low flame. Carefully adjusting the heat, she watched the substance’s vibrant hues deepen, shifting from a cool blue to a mesmerizing purple. It seemed to come alive under the heat, glowing brighter with every passing second. The sight was almost hypnotic, and Vi leaned closer, when a sudden flare of light erupted from the dish, followed by a sharp crack. Sparks shot into the air, extinguishing the flame, and a faint scorch mark darkened the table beneath the dish.
Vi stumbled back, shielding her face instinctively. The metallic tang of burnt residue filled the air, sharp and acrid. She stared at the blackened scorch mark, her pulse still racing. “Sensitive to prolonged heat,” she muttered, scrawling the words hurriedly into her notes. “Threshold reached—potentially combustible under sustained temperature.”
Determined, she prepared another test, this time setting the vial into a sturdy clamp. The idea was to simulate the pressure it might have experienced inside the bomb she’d dismantled. Slowly, she tightened the mechanism, her eyes fixed on the liquid as it rippled with each turn of the screw. For a moment, it seemed stable, the shimmering surface undisturbed. Then, a sharp bang shattered the stillness. The vial exploded into fragments, sending shards of glass and glowing mist scattering across the table.
Vi ducked, her arms flying up to shield her face as a few pieces tinkled to the floor. When the air cleared, she straightened, her heart pounding in her chest. The clamp was slick with the glowing residue, its iridescence fading as the mist evaporated. “Compression doesn’t work either,” she muttered, inspecting the ruined setup. Pulling her notebook closer, she scribbled furiously, noting the dangerous instability of the substance under physical stress.
“What the hell is this thing?” She muttered, picking up the glass pieces spread around the warehouse floor. The pink substance was a constant light, shimmering in the places it exploded. “Hey, little guy. You get away from that.” A small rat scurried toward a small puddle of the substance, attracted by its iridescent glow. The rat seemed determined as it dodged the glass covering the floor. Vi shot a web at the rodent as it looked curiously at the substance before it—the web landed an inch too far away.
For a moment, the rat seemed completely fine, taking a step back and sniffing the glass around it. Vi sighed in relief, thankful the rat wouldn’t be blown to pieces. As Vi bent down to pick up a shard of glass, she heard the rodent squeak consistently—yelping like a human would. Vi watched as the rat froze before convulsing, muscles swelling unnaturally as its tiny frame contorted. Its front paws grew larger, claws elongating into sharp, jagged points. The fur along its back bristled, darkening as bony protrusions pushed through its skin, glistening faintly under the shimmer’s influence.
Its eyes, once dull and black, ignited with a vivid, unnatural glow, flickering between violet and deep crimson. The rat let out a low, guttural screech, its voice distorted and far too loud for its size. The rat growled again, eyes searching the room, and found Vi looking at it, horrified. It let out another growl before charging at her, mouth wide and full of razor-edged teeth.
“Holy shit!” Vi jumped onto her table, knocking off the science equipment she had previously been using. Shooting a multitude of webs at the monstrous creature, she waited til it was wrapped into a ball, unable to move. Carefully, Vi stepped off the table, eyes locked on the thing—its legs twitched before finally coming to a stop.
Vi walked closer to the thing, nudging it with her foot, still weary that it could jump up and maul her. After waiting a few seconds, she determined that it was dead, not because of the webs but because of the substance. The rat convulsed again, and its muscles began to shrink as its legs and claws returned to their original size. Finally, the rat lay still, the webbing around it no longer restricting the movement it once possessed.
Vi’s mouth hung open, frozen in shock as the horrifying scene unfolded before her eyes. This substance was unlike anything she’d ever encountered—nothing like Hextech. This was chaos distilled, created with a single, ruthless purpose: destruction. It didn’t discriminate, didn’t care who or what stood in its path. Its only outcome was devastation, leaving nothing but pain in its wake.
"Big house. Where can I find that big house?" Vi muttered under her breath, swinging effortlessly across the rooftops of Piltover. Her eyes scanned the seemingly endless sprawl of grand mansions, each more ornate than the last. "Oh, what the fuck," she groaned, landing smoothly on the roof of a particularly extravagant manor. The sprawling gardens and glittering windows mocked her as she surveyed the area. "This is gonna get me nowhere. They’re all fuckin’ big houses."
She sighed, throwing her head back and letting the cool night air whip against her mask. For a moment, she contemplated giving up and just knocking on every door in the district. As she debated her next move, voices drifted up from the street below.
“Okay, bro, fuck, marry, kill: Councilor Bolbok, former Councilor Heimerdinger, and former Sheriff Grayson,” a drunken voice slurred, breaking the silence of the night.
Curiosity piqued, Vi peered over the edge of the roof. Two men stood under a streetlight, swaying slightly, bottles in hand. She smirked, settling into a crouch to eavesdrop.
“What the hell kind of question is that?!” the other man exclaimed, his incredulous tone carrying clearly through the still night. “One’s a robot, one’s a furry, and one’s a fuckin’ granny!”
“You gotta answer the question,” his friend chuckled, taking a swig of his drink.
The second man groaned, rubbing his face in defeat. “Okay. Fine. Fuck Heim—”
“Sorry to interrupt, boys.” Vi dropped from the roof and landed lightly in front of them, her hands on her hips. “But I gotta ask something before you get back to your weird game.”
The two men froze, their jaws slack as they stared at her, then each other, then back at her. “You’re Spider-Man…” one of them breathed, his voice laced with disbelief.
“Wow, would you look at that?” Vi deadpanned, glancing down at her suit and feigning shock. “Guess I am. Anyway, can one of you tell me where the Kirammans live? It’s kinda important.”
“Uh… yeah…” the more coherent one stammered, pointing down the road. “Just go down Opaline Boulevard and turn right on Meridian Parkway. It’s the house with the gate.”
“Thank you very much.” Vi raised an eyebrow. “Why does Piltover have such odd street names? Opaline? Seriously?” The men remained frozen, eyes wide as saucers, while Vi shot a web at a nearby building. “See ya!” she called out, swinging off into the night.
Vi swung from building to building, following the directions the drunk men gave her. Landing on the lamposts, she scanned the empty street—no one in Piltover was out this late at night except for her and the few drunks she passed. Spotting an archway lit by elegant lanterns, Vi swung toward it. Meridian Parkway was etched on it in big, swoopy letters.
Cobblestones led the way, their polish almost shiny at night. The mansions sprawled forward, their towering gates lined with perfectly manicured trees and decorative fountains were softly illuminated by street lights.
“Big house with a gate,” Vi muttered, rolling her eyes. Oh yeah, that really narrows it down. She landed lightly on a rooftop and crouched, her sharp gaze combing through the opulent estate below.
And then she saw it—the Kiramman estate. It wasn’t just a big house; it was a castle. The wrought-iron gate bore the family crest, and beyond it stretched an immaculate garden dotted with fountains and sculpted hedges. The mansion itself was a masterpiece of architecture, its grand pillars and shining windows bathed in soft light. It towered over the neighboring estates, making them look small in comparison.
“It’s adorable,” Vi mocked, swinging down to a secluded corner on the gate. Ensuring there wasn’t an enforcer around, she strode over to the front door and knocked on the large oak door.
After a few minutes, Vi heard shuffling behind the door. Slowly, the door creaked open, revealing Caitlyn Kiramman in her pajamas. “Who is-” She finished rubbing her eyes and saw who was standing at her doorstep. “Spider-Man!” Caitlyn hissed, making sure no one was listening in the house, and stepped outside. “What do you think you’re doing? You can’t be here.”
“Relax, princess. I’m not here for you. I need to see your mother.”
Caitlyn scrunched her nose, scoffing. “Like that makes it any better. She will have you arrested if she finds you here.”
“She tried before, and no such luck.” Vi chuckled. “Also, why would I come here if it wasn’t important?”
Caitlyn’s scowl deepened. “Fine, but you’ll have to go through my bedroom. There are guards posted everywhere in the house since the attack.”
“Bedroom, huh? That’s how you’re gonna repay me for saving your life?” Vi’s teasing tone held a playful edge, a smirk tugging under her mask. She watched as Caitlyn’s face turned a light shade of pink. “Relax, princess, I was only joking. Now, if you could point me in the direction of your bedroom window, that would be beyond helpful.”
“Second floor on the right side of the house overlooking the fountain.” Caitlyn’s voice was calm, but the blush on her face was still prevalent.
“Namaste,” Vi bowed slightly and gave prayer hands before climbing up the wall. “I’ll meet ya there.”
Vi climbed, her gloved fingers and feet finding a grip on the smooth stone facade. As she reached the second-floor window, Vi paused, crouching on the narrow ledge. Vi knocked on the window, waiting for Caitlyn to open for her.
Glancing inside, Vi saw a massive four-poster bed and a perfectly organized desk with books lining a towering shelf. “I’m coming back rich in my next life,” Vi muttered just as Caitlyn opened the window. “Took you long enough.” She ducked under the window and climbed into the room.
Caitlyn’s arms were crossed as she watched Vi enter her room. “Sorry, I can’t scale walls. It takes me some time.”
“It’s okay. Not everyone is as talented as me.” Vi stepped further into the room, glancing around. “You got a sweet place.”
“Thank you,” Caitlyn replied curtly. “My mother’s in her study. Follow me.”
“Look at us, quite the team?”
“Don’t say that again.”
“You’re so boring, Baby Kiramman. Also, if your mother’s awake, why didn’t she get the door? It would’ve been nice if she greeted her guest.” They began walking down the dimly lit hallway, Caitlyn slightly ahead.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “She never gets the door, and I happened to be in the downstairs library.”
“So you decided to grace whoever was at the door with your presence?”
“Hm.” Caitlyn groaned in response, checking the next hall for any enforcers before walking. “If I may ask, why do you want to speak to my mother?”
Shrugging, Vi replied, “Found something interesting from the attack. Thought she might want to know.”
“So you show up at her house in the middle of the night?”
“Bingo.”
“Unbelievable,” Caitlyn scoffed. “I still don’t know why I’m helping you.”
“I saved you.”
“You also tied me to a wall with your webs.”
“Fair point, but you were gonna get in my way.”
“I was not!” Caitlyn hissed back as they walked up a small flight of stairs. “You were the one causing problems.”
“I didn’t know saving your life was a problem.” Vi shot back, her smirk growing the redder Caitlyn became.
“Will you quit mentioning that? I’m already showing you my thanks by letting you speak to my mother.”
“While I thank you for that, I can’t let it go. Especially now that it’s all over the internet.”
Caitlyn scowled as she looked at the masked girl. Stopping before large double doors, Vi stood behind her, watching. “We’re here.” Caitlyn knocked on the doors, waiting for her cue.
A soft “Come in.” was mumbled from inside the door.
Caitlyn opened the doors and stepped into the study. It was lined with tall bookshelves filled with leather-bound volumes and scrolls, their spines gleaming under the soft glow of an elegant chandelier. A large mahogany desk sat at the center, its surface meticulously arranged with papers, a brass lamp, and a crystal decanter half-filled with amber liquid.
The walls were adorned with framed maps and family portraits, and a plush armchair faced the desk. Its deep emerald upholstery contrasted with the dark wood tones of the room. In the chair, a woman with a keen posture studied a piece of paper in her hand. She hadn’t looked up as her daughter approached the desk.
“Mother, someone is here to see you,” Caitlyn said, breaking the silence. Her mother glanced up from the paper and looked at her daughter, who had a nervous expression.
“And who would that be?” She inquired. Caitlyn didn’t respond—just moving out of the way to show who stood at the doorway. “You!” Shooting up, shotgun already in hand, she pointed it at Vi. “What are you doing here?”
Vi put her hands up. “What is it with Kiramman women pointing shotguns at me?” Vi shot a web, yanking the gun from her hands, and grabbed it. “I mean, two times. Is it some kind of hormone? Pheromone, maybe?”
Cassandra frowned in frustration, turning to her daughter, “Caitlyn, why is she here? Answer quickly. I already have the enforcers on their way.”
“She said she had something urgent to tell you.” Caitlyn remained calm composure as her mother stared her down.
Vi analyzed the gun in her hand as the Kiramman women glared at each other. “Is this a new model? I’ve never seen it before.”
The two ended their staring match and glanced back at Vi. Cassandra sighed, watching her daughter’s pleading eyes. “Well, what did you want to tell me?” She pinched the bridge of her nose before turning toward Vi, who had finished observing the gun and put it carefully on the ground.
“It’s about the Progress Day attack. I think I might have some information you would want to know.” Cassandra quirked an eyebrow at Vi’s words. “But, first, call off your enforcers. I would rather not be dragged off to Stillwater—that would be if you could catch me, of course.”
The councilor thought for a moment before she sighed. “Fine, but this better be worth my time.” She turned toward her daughter. “Caitlyn, thank you for your help. You may leave now.”
“Leave?” Caitlyn scoffed. “I want to help.”
“And I’ve thanked you for it. You are dismissed.” Cassandra didn’t spare her daughter another glance, focusing her full attention on Vi.
Caitlyn glared at her mother and stormed away, slamming the double doors on her way out. Vi watched her leave, feeling a tinge of sadness for the girl.
“Now, what is it you’d like to discuss?” Cassandra glanced down at her papers, reorganizing them.
“You called off your dogs?”
“Yes.”
Vi watched Cassandra’s movements, suspicion causing her to hesitate. “I found out what powered their bombs: shimmer. It’s a reactive, volatile substance, adaptive to its situations. It can be used in anything—from bombs to…animals.” Vi shivered, the memories of the rat flashed back. “I believe it is being produced in Zaun.”
“And you know this how?”
“It was the source of power in the bomb. I found a vial in the defect I stole and experimented with it.”
“And where is the vial?”
“Gone. It shattered in one of my experiments.”
“Wonderful.” The councilor’s tone was laced with sarcasm. “What was the point in telling me this? Why risk it?”
“I believe we’d work best if we worked together. You do whatever you do in Piltover, and I cover the streets.”
An airy chuckle left Cassandra’s mouth. “I will not go against the law and work with a vigilante.”
“The law is broken. Your council has done nothing-” Vi’s neck tingled with the unmistakable sense of danger, and she leapt instinctively into the air. A split second later, a gunshot blasted through the door, the bullet narrowly missing her. She landed on the wall, her glare sharp as she fixed it on the councilor. “And you wonder why everyone hates you,” she spat, her voice dripping with disdain.
Before she could move, the double doors burst open, and a group of enforcers stormed in, their guns already raised. Without hesitation, they opened fire. Vi sprang from the wall, shooting a web toward the window. The glass exploded into shards as she swung through—missing all but one piece. A jagged piece sliced deep into her abdomen, a fiery pain blooming instantly as blood began to seep through her suit.
Clutching her side, Vi gritted her teeth, forcing herself to focus as more gunfire erupted behind her. The bullets whizzed past, but she was already flipping onto the rooftop, her feet hitting the tiles. Without slowing, she dashed across the roofs, leaping from mansion to mansion, her breath ragged and sharp.
“Why do I always choose wrong?” she muttered, the sting in her side matching the weight of her frustration.
Benzo whistled a soft tune as he readied his pawn shop. He had just put the broom back when the bell rang, signaling someone had come in. “Welcome to Benzo’s pawn shop. How can I help you this fine morning?”
Blood dripped onto the floor as Vi hobbled in, her face grimacing each time pain shot from the gash. “I…” Vi pressed her hand harder against the wound, causing a sharp pain. “I need some help.”
“What can I help you with?” Benzo turned around and saw Vi collapse onto a chair. His eyes widened in horror as he rushed to the girl. “Vi! What happened to ya?”
“A run-in with some guy around The Last Drop. He had a knife. Got me pretty good, huh?” Vi tried to chuckle, but the wound began to throb. She shot up at the pain. “Ah!”
“Hold on. Let me get my medical supplies.” Benzo rushed behind the counter, opening cabinets frantically as he looked for his first aid kit.
“Last time I trust a fucking piltie,” Vi muttered.
“Found it!” With a small wooden box, Benzo darted back to Vi. “Alright, lift up your shirt. Let me see the ghastly thing.”
Vi grabbed the end of her shirt and, with a shaky hand, did as told. The wound was bedded with dirt after laying hours in an alley, waiting for Benzo to open the shop. Dried blood was caked with the mud, and fresh, dark blood was still oozing out. The gash itself was deep—there was too much blood to determine how deep—and long, running against the side of her ribs.
“My gosh, kid,” Benzo took a deep breath. “He really got you.” Grabbing the clear liquid beside him, Benzo gave Vi a sympathetic look. “This will only hurt a bit.” Without warning, Benzo poured nearly the entity of the substance, flinching each time Vi let out an agonizing scream.
“Benzo, I got the- HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!” Ekko came through the door—stopping dead in his tracks—and dropped the box he was carrying. His face contorted in horror as he watched Vi convulse, her blood seeping into the chair cushion, and Benzo sitting on a stool in front of her.
“Oh, Ekko,” Benzo chuckled awkwardly as he pushed a rag against Vi’s abdomen. “You came back quicker than I thought.”
“Uh…” Ekko shook his head and ran over to Vi. “What happened to you- what the hell is that?!” His mouth fell agape as Vi’s gushing wound glared at him.
“Just a small cut. Nothing to worry about.” Vi tried to play it off, but her constant shaky breaths showed how much pain she was in. “Shouldn’t you be at school?”
“Shouldn’t you?!” Ekko exclaimed. “And that is not small. It looks like someone was using you as their chopping board.”
Before Vi could retort, Benzo shouted at Ekko. “Son, get me the stitching supplies—second drawer under the register.” He turned back to Vi with a pointed expression. “And you, stop talking. You’re only making it worse.”
“I can’t help- JESUS CHRIST! Did you have to push it harder?!” Vi groaned, shooting up from the seat again.
“We gotta stop the bleeding somehow. You’re just lucky this thing didn’t get infected.”
“Here, Benzo.” Ekko handed him the scissors, needle, and thread. “So this is what you do when you’re out late? Get into fights?” Ekko teased, a smirk replacing his former horrified expression.
“No, this guy came at me. Not the other way around.” Vi watched as Benzo carefully began the first stitch into her wound.
“What about the other times—when you would come to school with your face beaten in?” Vi looked away from Ekko. With a scoff, he sat down on the couch next to her. “Did you at least tell Jinx you were gonna be out all night or that you wouldn’t be going to school?”
Vi inhaled deeply, her eyes closing in realization. “Shit, Powder.”
“Language.” Benzo scolded as he secured the third stitch in Vi's wound.
“Sorry.” Vi turned back to Ekko. “How could I forget?” Vi cursed herself again. “She’s probably freaking out.”
“Probably?” Shooting Vi a look of disbelief, “No, she’s definitely freaking out. Vi, you can’t just disappear like that—not after Vander. You know what kind of state she’s in.”
“I know, I know, I know. I don’t need another person scolding me. Babette’s already on that.” Vi flinched slightly as another pain shot through her. “It wasn’t like I was planning to be out all night… or to skip school. But some entitled asshole decided to fuck up the rest of my day.”
“You could’ve at least called.”
“Yeah,” Vi sighed, “you’re right.”
“Yeah, I know, but that’s because I’m always right.” A teasing grin formed on his face. “But try to remember that for next time.”
Vi chuckled, a small smile of her own on her face. “I promise.”
“Alright, all done with your stitches.” Vi looked down at her wound—it wasn’t pretty, but it sure looked better than before. “Now, time to wrap it.” Benzo searched the small box, pulling out a roll of gauze. “This should be quite easy.”
After finishing the final wrap-around, Benzo sat back, admiring his work. “Would you look at that? As good as new.” He chuckled, placing a hand on Vi’s shoulder. “You should be good to go.”
The three stood up from their seats, stretching after enduring the tension of a near-surgical operation. Vi, moving quickly yet mindful not to disrupt Benzo’s meticulous stitch work, pulled him into a firm hug. “Thank you,” she murmured, her voice low but filled with genuine gratitude.
“I…” Benzo was shocked as Vi clung to him. “Of course.” A smile fell on his mouth as he pulled her deeper into the hug. “Of course, Violet.” Slowly, they pulled away, but Benzo kept firm hands on her shoulders. “Remember, you don’t always have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You have people looking out for you. I’m looking out for you.”
Vi looked at Ekko for a moment before forcing herself to look back at Benzo’s caring eyes. “I don’t even know what to say.”
Benzo chuckled lightly, the sound warm. “You don’t have to. I just needed you to know.” He patted her shoulders once more and walked back to the table sprawled with medical supplies. As he placed them back in their boxes, he turned toward Vi again, pointing a finger. “Don’t overexert yourself. I don’t wanna redo those stitches.”
Raising her hands in surrender, Vi laughed as Benzo gave her the classic glare of a parent scolding their child. “I promise.” Heading to the front of the store, Vi opened the door. “I’m gonna try to make it to school. See you guys later.” Vi saluted and ran down the street.
From the store, she could hear Benzo shout, “Violet!” followed by Ekko’s laughter at his dad’s outburst.
Vi jogged down the bustling streets of Piltover, her breath ragged and her side throbbing with every step. The stitches in her abdomen were sending sharp reminders each time she took a step. She glanced at the clock tower in the distance, her stomach sinking. Fuck me.
Dodging pedestrians and carriages, she tried to push herself faster, but the pain slowed her down. She stopped abruptly at the edge of the sidewalk, her hands on her knees as she panted, looking up at the sprawling city around her. The school was still blocks away, and the midday bell rang faintly in the air.
“There is no way in hell I’m gonna walk this,” she muttered under her breath, straightening up and glancing around. With no enforcers in sight, she ducked into a narrow alleyway.
Yanking her mask out of her backpack, she slipped it on. In one smooth motion, she shot a web at the side of a building and launched herself into the air.
The wind whipped past her, cooling the sweat on her brow as she swung through the city. The throbbing in her side was still there, but swinging was smoother than running, and the freedom of the air made her almost forget the ache. Almost.
She moved quickly, her mind racing as fast as her body. Powder’s gonna have my head on a silver platter. Vi nearly dropped her bag as she swung to another building, catching it with the edge of her fingertips.
The school came into view as she rounded a corner, its brick walls and iron gates bustling with students streaming out into the street. Damn. Damn. Damn. Frustration bubbled in her chest as she swung onto the rooftop of a nearby building and crouched, pulling off her mask and stuffing it into her bag.
She dropped down into a side alley, emerging onto the sidewalk looking as casual as someone could after just leaping across rooftops. Her hoodie was tugged low to hide the faint bloodstain on her side, and she adjusted her backpack to cover it further.
Scanning the crowd, she spotted Powder near the school steps, her small figure standing out in the sea of students. Powder’s arms were crossed, her foot tapping impatiently as she craned her neck, scanning the street. The moment she saw Vi, her expression shifted—anger, relief, and exasperation flickering across her face all at once.
Vi jogged over, trying to look nonchalant despite the stiffness in her movements. “Hey, Pow,” she said, grinning sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic’s a bitch.”
Powder glared at her, her lips pressed into a pout. “You’re not late. You missed the entire day of school. Not only that, but you were gone all last night. No note. No text. No call. What the hell were you doing? And why is there blood covering your shirt?”
Vi laughed nervously. “Pow, I’m so sorry. Let’s just get home. I’ll explain everything there, okay?”
Powder huffed and walked toward her, bumping her shoulder, and continued walking. Her braids swayed with every stomp she took. Claggor and Mylo stood on the steps above Vi. Giving her disappointed glances, they ignored her pleading expression and caught up to their little sister.
“God damn it!” Vi groaned, kicking a rock with all her strength. It flew in the air, knocking into a parked car across the street, and left a large dent in its door. Vi didn’t have the energy to care about the damage she caused. Pacing the sidewalk, she ran her hands through her hair, thinking of something—anything—to tell Powder when she got home.
“Vi…?” A voice called her name from the school steps. Looking up, she saw Caitlyn’s worried as boring into her. “Are you okay?”
Vi straightened slightly, hoping she didn’t still look like she wanted to kill someone. “Yeah, yeah. I’m good. Is there something you wanted to…” Trailing off, she watched as Caitlyn seemed to remember something and searched her backpack.
“Yes, I have the notes from English. I noticed you weren’t here today, so I thought I’d help you out. Also, I was able to ask Professor Hoskel for the worksheet you did in class, but I didn’t know your other classes, so this is all I could get.” Caitlyn found what she was looking for, pulling out a neat stack of papers—a paperclip holding them together—and handed them to Vi, a sheepish grin on her face.
Vi was almost too star-stricken to hold her hand out. No one had ever done something so small yet so thoughtful for her—unless you count Mylo grabbing her favorite strand of weed for her birthday. She hesitated, staring at the neat handwriting as if it might bite her. It wasn’t like Caitlyn to go out of her way for someone like Vi, and yet here she was, handing over the notes like it was no big deal. Finally, Vi reached out, the awkwardness of the moment pressing down on her more than she wanted to admit.
“Um, thanks for this. It actually means a lot.” Grabbing the notes, she quickly stuffed them in her bag. “Don’t want Hoskel on my ass again.” Scratching the back of her neck, Vi nervously chuckled. Nervous? Why am I nervous in front of a girl? Vi tried to come to a conclusion as Caitlyn walked down the steps, her skirt swaying with every graceful step.
“Yeah, it’s no problem.”
Another awkward silence filled the air. Trying to lighten the mood, a teasing grin pulled on Vi’s lips. “So where’s the butler? He’s a little late, isn’t he?”
Caitlyn giggled, “He’s not a butler. He’s my chauffeur.”
“Oh, chauffeur. My apologies.”
Biting her bottom lip, she tried to cover her smile. “Apology accepted. He’s not coming today. I would rather not see my mother right now.” Caitlyn’s smile dimmed as she thought back to the night before.
“Trouble in paradise? Wanna talk about it?” Vi had no idea why she asked a piltie—let alone Caitlyn Kiramman—if they wanted to talk, but for some reason, it sounded right.
“You wouldn’t believe it.”
“Try me.” Vi quipped, her smirk growing. “I know a good cafe. You can tell me every bizarre detail there.”Caitlyn raised an eyebrow, thinking for a moment. “They have really good lattes.”
“I do love a good latte.” Caitlyn giggled as she watched Vi wiggle her eyebrows. “Fine, but I don’t just want to talk about myself.”
“Deal.”
“Alright then, lead the way.”