Priceless: The Golden Eye

The entire cafeteria stared. Icecold strawberry slushie dripped from my soaked hair, sliding down my jaw. Vance twisted his fist into my bangs, yanking my head back.

He jabbed a finger at my left eye. "Cheap colored contacts to get attention?" he sneered. "You're a disgusting pickme." I stared back into his arrogant face. I didn't say a word.

I raised my hand. I wedged my fingers past my eyelid, pressing deep into the socket. Right in front of everyone, I popped the golden eyeball out.

Chapter 1 "What?" Vance looked like he hadn't processed a single word. His brows knotted, his expression twisting into something strange and unreadable. "What did you just say?

If those aren't cheap contacts, then what are they?" I let out a slow breath. Here it comes. The absolute worst part of being the new girl.

I slapped Vance's hand away with a cold stare.

Grabbing a few rough napkins, I slicked my slushiematted hair back and wiped the sticky mess from my skin with heavy, punishing strokes, leaving my pale features entirely exposed.

I met his gaze deadon. "Watch." Vance narrowed his eyes, utterly clueless. A second later, I expertly wedged my fingers past my eyelid.

Right in front of the entire class, I popped the prosthetic eye out of its socket. I held the golden orb right up to Vance's face. All the color drained from his skin.

I repeated myself, my voice eerily calm. "It's not a colored contact. It's my prosthetic eye.

Is that clear enough for you?" The noisy classroom plunged into a suffocating, dead silence. Vance stared at my empty left eye socket for a long, agonizing moment.

He stumbled back two steps, shock radiating off him. "How…" He looked dazed. His hand twitched, reaching out instinctively to touch the hollow space on my face.

I smacked his arm away. I ducked my head, quickly shoving the prosthetic back into place and wincing slightly as I adjusted it.

I knew exactly how pathetic I looked right now—sopping wet, a freak show for the whole school. But I didn't care.

I'd survived worse humiliations than a slushie to the head and a bully's bruised ego. This meant nothing to me. Once the eye was seated right, I looked back up.

Vance's face was a wreck of conflicting emotions. "I thought you…" His lips trembled.

He opened his mouth like he had more to say, but the piercing shriek of the warning bell cut him off. I didn't wait. I brushed right past his stiff body and slid into my desk.

Slushie dripped from the ends of my hair down my neck. I pulled my textbook from my bag and flipped it open, shutting out the room. Vance didn't move.

He stood frozen by my desk, his jaw locked hard. He watched me silently as I tried to clean myself up, his knuckles white around the crushed slushie cup in his hand.

When I gave up and stopped wiping, his gaze snagged on my sticky, slushiematted hair. Seconds dragged.

Finally, he kicked the chair of the girl sitting in front of me. "Monroe," he rasped. "Give me some tissues." Monroe glared over her shoulder, lowering her voice into a sharp warning. "Are you insane, Vance?

The calculus teacher is literally about to walk in.

Get back to your seat!" "I said, give me the fucking tissues!" Vance roared, his voice shattering the quiet. "Are you deaf?" The entire class flinched, every single pair of eyes whipping toward him in the deadsilent room.

Monroe jumped, her eyes welling up with angry tears. She grabbed a halfempty pack of Kleenex from her desk and whipped it at his chest. "You're a psycho!

Don't scream at me!" He ignored her. Snatching the pack out of the air, he thrust it down onto my desk. I didn't look at it. I didn't move my hands.

His arm just hovered there, awkwardly suspended in the space between us. "Take them. Clean yourself up," he muttered. His face was ashen, his voice tight with dark frustration.

Slowly, I lifted my chin, locking my eyes straight onto his. Chapter 2 The second Vance saw the golden iris, he flinched like he'd been stabbed.

He snapped his head away, deliberately avoiding my gaze. "What are you staring at?" he snapped, his voice rough. "Just take the damn tissues." It hit me then.

Ever since I popped that prosthetic out, his whole demeanor had shifted.

Watching him stand there looking so incredibly awkward, an absurd thought crossed my mind. "Is this your way of apologizing?" I asked. He froze.

His muscles locked up, and I could see the faint tremor in his fingertips. "If taking your tissues means I have to forgive you, then I'll pass." I kept my voice deadpan, staring straight into his knotted brow. "I have zero intention of accepting your apology.

Take your trash and get away from me." His face darkened, a storm brewing in his eyes.

Realizing I wasn't going to play along, he cursed under his breath, stripped off his expensive custom varsity jacket, and threw it hard onto my desk.

Without missing a beat, I picked up the jacket, still radiating his body heat, and dumped it straight into the trash can right in front of him. Vance's jaw clenched.

He bent down, scooped it up in silence, and moved to push it back onto my desk. The heavy thud of the teacher's boots echoed in the hallway.

Monroe, who had been watching this whole exchange with growing irritation, finally snapped.

She sprang out of her seat, digging her manicured nails into Vance's bicep and dragging him toward the back of the room. "She doesn't even want to look at you!

Why are you acting like a desperate simp?" Monroe hissed, her hip slamming hard into my desk as she pulled him away. I kept my eyes glued to my open textbook.

I didn't spare them a single glance. While the teacher was writing on the board, a sickeningly heavy thud echoed from the back of the room.

Vance had just struck himself across the face. Half the class whipped their heads around in shock. Monroe kept twisting in her seat to check on Vance.

And every single time she looked back, she shot me a venomous glare, like I was the villain who had just committed a war crime. Vance, Monroe—I couldn't care less.

I tuned out their petty drama. By the time the bell finally rang, the sticky slushie dried on my skin felt like a suffocating second skin.

I desperately needed to wash off in the restroom. I shoved my chair back and stood up. My sneaker caught on something hard. Gravity vanished. I pitched forward, out of control.

I threw my hands out, bracing for the impact, but the rough linoleum tore right through the skin on my forearms. A sharp hiss escaped my teeth.

Blood beaded up instantly along the raw, scraped flesh of my wrist, blooming into a dark, wet stain against the cuff of my sleeve. I gritted my teeth, preparing to push myself up.

Suddenly, a broad frame broke through the circle of gawking students. Without a single word, a pair of strong arms locked around my waist and behind my knees.

With one forceful, upward heave, he ripped me off the floor and straight against his chest.

Chapter 3 Caught off guard, my fingers instinctively dug into the hard muscle of his shoulder. "You good?" Vance's voice rumbled right next to my ear.

His eyes locked onto the blood dripping down my arm, his brow pulling into a tight knot. "Stop moving. I'm taking you to the nurse." "I scraped my arm.

I didn't break my legs," I shot back, keeping my voice icecold. "Put me down. I can walk." He acted like I hadn't spoken at all.

His grip around my waist only tightened, locking me against his chest. "I've got you," he muttered, shooting me a dark look. "Stop acting tough." A bitter laugh almost ripped from my throat.

I opened my mouth to snap at him, but as he turned, his expensive sneaker hit a puddle in the hallway. His massive frame lost its balance. The world tilted. Gravity vanished.

The violent rush of weightlessness slammed into my chest. Sickening memories flashed behind my eyelids. Every muscle in my body locked up. "Vance!" He twisted in midair.

His large hand clamped over the back of my skull, desperately trying to shield me. It wasn't enough. We slammed onto the hard linoleum.

With his arms caged around me, I took the brutal, crushing impact of his entire body weight. Bone cracked against the floor. A sharp thud echoed through my skull.

Then, absolute ringing. Right before the darkness swallowed me, a panicked roar ripped through the static. "Monroe, get over here! Your cousin passed out!" My chest went cold.

He knew. He knew I was Monroe's cousin. No wonder he had it out for me from the start.

I regained consciousness at the absolute worst possible moment. "You promised you'd teach her a lesson!" Monroe's shrill voice sliced through the quiet room. "Why the hell are you backing out now?" I kept my eyes shut tight.

A rhythmic tapping echoed off the walls—Vance's knuckles hitting a desk. "I said I'd mess with her." Vance clicked his tongue, his voice rising with raw frustration. "But you conveniently forgot to mention she's missing a freaking eye!" He pushed away from the desk. "You want me to bully a disabled girl?

What do you think I am, Monroe? A psychopath?" Monroe choked on her own breath.

The sound warped into a hysterical, ugly sob. "She's just a crippled bitch!" she shrieked. "If she ruined your life, if she stole everything from you, I highly doubt you'd be sitting here playing the saint!" The tapping abruptly stopped.

A heavy, suffocating silence filled the room. "You promised me, Vance." Monroe's words were slow, venomous drops. "I took the blame for the contraband in the principal's office last semester.

You owe me." Footsteps scuffed across the floor, moving closer to him. "I don't want money.

I just want you to wreck her," Monroe hissed, her voice dripping with malice. "Destroy her. I don't care how." The infirmary fell into a dead quiet.

I focused on the faint rustle of the window blinds rattling in the breeze. Then came his heavy, resigned exhale. "Fine.

I'll do it." Chapter 4 Monroe's toxic mood vanished in a second, replaced by a vicious, satisfied grin.

Ignoring Vance's obvious irritation, she practically dragged him out the door to buy him lunch. The heavy door clicked shut. I slowly opened my eyes.

A dull throb pulsed at the back of my skull, but it was bearable.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, hit stop on the hidden voice recorder app, and pushed myself up from the stiff cot. I always knew my cousin hated my guts.

Ever since I got dumped on her family's doorstep, Monroe had veiled her venom behind tight, pageantqueen smiles. But I hadn't realized the depth of it.

I hadn't realized she wanted me eradicated. The memory of Vance slapping his own face in class clashed violently with his defeated "Fine, I'll do it" just moments ago.

A dark, cynical amusement coiled in my chest. I couldn't wait to see exactly how he planned to ruin my life. I stepped into the classroom right before the lunch bell rang.

Vance's booming voice immediately rattled the windows. "Listen up! From this second on, she is under my protection!

If I hear a single one of you call her a cripple or a freak, I'll personally break your jaw!" My sneakers stopped dead at the doorway. My teeth ground together.

No one had used those words except him. But thanks to his little public service announcement, my name was now permanently tattooed with 'cripple'. I pivoted to walk away.

A hand clamped around my wrist like a vice. "Look who's here!" Monroe cheered, her smile so bright and plastic it made my eyes hurt.

She shoved me hard between the shoulder blades, stumbling me right into the center of the room. Vance hopped off the teacher's desk and closed the distance.

He snatched my hand, gripping my knuckles tight. "I formally apologize for today," he announced, plastering on a painfully earnest expression. "I didn't know about your… condition.

I said some terrible things.

And I'm sorry I dropped you." A microscopic twitch broke his guilty mask for a fraction of a second before he smoothed it over. "I am so incredibly sorry!

You have to forgive me, or I swear I won't be able to sleep tonight." The suffocating weight of thirty stares locked onto us.

This was their twisted little play, and they had forcibly dragged me to center stage. She had pinned me under the glaring spotlight, cutting off my escape route.

But looking into Vance's calculated eyes, I realized something. I didn't want to run anyway.

Chapter 5 I didn't break eye contact. "I don't accept fake apologies." Vance raised an eyebrow, clearly thrown off. "How is this fake?" He gestured to the silent classroom, blinking with mock innocence. "I'm apologizing in front of everyone.

Isn't that enough?" "You humiliated me, and your brilliant solution is to publicly corner me into forgiving you?

Pathetic." A cynical laugh slipped past my lips. "You don't even think you did anything wrong. You're just tossing a pity apology from your high horse and expecting me to grovel.

You're fake." His smile died. A dark, dangerous shadow dropped over his eyes. Gasps rippled through the desks. Nobody expected the new girl to push back.

Even Monroe raised an eyebrow, watching the fallout from the sidelines. Vance's jaw flexed hard. I tilted my head, keeping my voice deadpan. "So.

Are you done?" He stared at my blank face for a long, suffocating moment. Then, a low chuckle rumbled in his chest.

He took a deliberate step back, sweeping his arm out in a theatrical bow to clear my path. As I walked past, he called out, his voice ringing off the walls. "Watch me!

I'll show you exactly how sincere I can be!" He kept his word. Vance stopped ditching class to smoke. Instead, he hijacked the desk directly to my right.

He propped his jaw on his knuckles, tilted his head, and just stared at me. He had the kind of face that belonged on a billboard.

When he focused those dark eyes on you, it felt intense, almost suffocating. Too bad his face was his only redeeming quality. He watched. I ignored him.

I treated him like empty air and did my work. For an entire week, surrounded by the relentless whispers and stares in the hallway, we locked into a silent, suffocating tugofwar.

We didn't exchange a single word. But random things started appearing in my locker. A Starbucks oat milk latte. A box of highend artisan truffles.

A neon sticky note stuck to the metal door with a clumsily drawn heart. Vance watched from the corner of his eye, waiting for a reaction.

Without a flinch, I swept every single item off the edge of my desk and straight into the trash can. Vance ground his teeth, forcing a tight, sarcastic smile. "You've got nerve.

I'll give you that." I met his glare. "Drop the pathetic middleschool pickup games. It's boring." He let out a sharp, breathless laugh, poking his tongue into his cheek.

His face hardened to stone. He spun on his heel and stalked out. Apparently, he realized the cheap romance routine was a dead end. His strategy shifted fast.

He went from breathing down my neck to completely ghosting me. For days, he disappeared from my radar, acting like his big public promise had never happened. I didn't care.

I kept my head down. Monroe, on the other hand, was losing her mind. More than once, I caught her dragging Vance into the empty stairwell, whispering furiously.

Every time she stomped back into class, her face was flushed red with suppressed rage. Vance just kept doing whatever he wanted.

Watching them snap at each other, I almost thought their sick little plot had completely fallen apart. Chapter 6 Friday. Torrential rain.

On my way back from the restroom, I passed the hallway trash can. My umbrella was shoved into the corner, slashed to absolute ribbons. My steps faltered for half a second.

I lowered my eyelashes, blanked my expression, and walked back to my desk like I hadn't seen a thing.

Vance had hijacked the desk directly behind me. "Hey," he dragged out the word, a lazy smirk on his face. "Let me borrow a pen." I ignored him. He didn't care.

He just kept talking, perfectly content with the sound of his own voice. "You washed your hair." I felt a tug.

Vance caught a strand of my hair between his fingers, twirling it around his knuckle like a bored predator.

Without a word, I jerked my hair out of his grip and shoved my chair two inches forward. Vance watched my hyperdefensive posture. A dark, amused smile played on his lips.

At least he took the hint. He backed off and left me alone for the rest of the period. The storm raged all day.

By the time the final bell rang, the rain was coming down in thick, gray sheets. I took my time packing my backpack.

Vance trailed right behind me, his hands shoved in his pockets, unbothered. Standing under the school entrance awning, I stared out at the torrential downpour.

I gritted my teeth and braced myself to make a run for it. Fingers hooked the back of my collar, jerking me to a stop. Vance leaned into my line of sight.

His striking face broke into a cocky grin. "Where do you live? I'll walk you." I looked up, catching the calculated gleam in his dark eyes. This time, I didn't say no.

The hurricanelevel winds whipped the rain into a frenzy. Vance didn't even bother with an umbrella.

Without a word, he stripped off his oversized leather jacket and threw it directly over my head, shielding me from the downpour