BENEATH THE CREST: A CHARTERHOUSE NOVEL

The Charterhouse cafeteria was a total zoo, but the broadcast room was Finn's chill zone, all quiet with the glow of screens.

Louisa, her stomach tied in knots, found him there during lunch, messing with the soundboard and wearing his usual headphones.

She slipped in, taking a deep breath. "Hey, Finn," she mumbled, still feeling shaky from yesterday.

Finn looked up, taking off his headphones. "Wren. Didn't think you'd be hiding out in my tech cave."

"I… I gotta ask you something," Louisa said, her voice still kinda quiet.

Finn leaned back, giving her this knowing look. "Let me guess… King?"

Louisa's eyes went wide. "You knew?"

Finn smirked a little. "Dude's sudden knight-in-shining-armor routine was kinda obvious, Wren. Especially since he usually ignores everyone who's not in his VIP club."

Louisa hesitated. "Why did he do it, Finn? Why did he help me?"

Finn steepled his fingers, looking all thoughtful. "King doesn't do stuff without a reason, Wren. Especially not in front of everyone, and def not for, you know… the scholarship crowd."

He looked right at her. "There was something going on in his head, even if it wasn't immediately obvious. Or perhaps… an impulse he hasn't fully processed himself."

"But… he stuck up for me against Cassia," Louisa said, still confused. "And he even remembered touching my neck at the party!"

Finn's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Okay, that's… more personal than a random bump in the hallway."

He leaned closer, looking serious. "But listen up, Wren. King's sudden interest, whatever it is, could totally mess things up for you. Cassia Blackwood is not accustomed to being publicly slighted, especially not by him, and certainly not for someone like you."

He paused, looking right at her. "You might end up getting way more than just stares and whispers. The social games here can be brutal, especially when matters of the heart, or perceived affections, become involved."

Finn's words hung there, like a warning sign.

Jayden's help might have been a save, but it also put a giant spotlight on Louisa, making her a target in some rich-kid drama she didn't even understand.

...

Anya found Cassia by her locker after lunch, her usual vibrant energy dimmed. Cassia was meticulously organizing her designer handbag, her movements sharp and agitated.

"Cassia? You okay?" Anya asked, her voice softer than usual, sensing her friend's simmering fury. "You were pretty quiet after… you know."

Cassia snapped her locker shut with a decisive click and turned to face Anya, her eyes blazing. "Am I okay? No, Anya, I am far from okay."

She lowered her voice, pulling Anya slightly away from the passing students. "He defended her, Anya. Publicly. He practically took the side of that… that nobody who dared to wear my dress."

Anya's eyebrows rose. "Yeah, that was… weird. What did he say to you in his study?"

Cassia's jaw tightened. "He tried to play it all calm, said it was 'excessive' to shame her in the hallway. He even said she was 'different' and that he was 'trying to figure things out' about her." Her voice dripped with disbelief and a hint of something akin to betrayal.

"Figure things out?" Anya repeated, a slow understanding dawning in her eyes. "You think…"

Cassia cut her off, her voice low and venomous. "He didn't say the words straight out, Anya, but I know Jayden. I know the way he looks at people when he's… interested. And I saw him, Anya. At lunch two days before. He was watching her. Intently. The way he used to look at me."

A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "He likes her, Anya. That good-for-nothing scholarship girl. They probably had some secret little chat in his study, plotting their next move."

Anya's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam entering them. "Well, maybe that little chat won't go as smoothly as they planned."

Anya leaned in with a conspiratorial air. "Remember how you wanted me to dig into Wren's background?"

Cassia nodded, a flicker of hope in her eyes. "Did you find something?"

Anya's smile was knowing. "I did. It seems our scholarship girl has a rather… interesting connection to Spotless Finish."

Cassia frowned. "Spotless Finish? What about it?"

"Well," Anya continued, lowering her voice, "it turns out Louisa's mother works there. Been there for years, apparently. Doing alterations and cleaning."

Cassia's eyes widened, a different kind of understanding dawning. "So… her mother works there. And my dress… disappeared there." A thought struck her. "And the red dress Louisa wore to the party… where did she get it?"

"Here's the kicker," Anya said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "According to one of the other employees I… chatted with… Louisa's mother sometimes brings home clothes that are going to be donated or haven't been claimed. Apparently, she's quite skilled at alterations."

A new picture began to form in Cassia's mind. Not a calculated thief, but perhaps a daughter wanting to feel special for one night, facilitated by a well-meaning mother with access to discarded clothing. The "lie" about borrowing the dress might have been a clumsy attempt to protect her mother or avoid further scrutiny.

Anya continued, sensing Cassia's shift in demeanor. "And there's more. Apparently, Louisa's dad bailed on her and her mom years ago. For some other woman. They live in a tiny apartment in the Lower East Side, scraping by."

Cassia's initial anger began to dissipate, replaced by a complex mix of surprise, a flicker of sympathy, and a lingering sense of being wronged, albeit in a different way.

The image of Louisa as a malicious thief was crumbling. Instead, she saw a girl from a completely different world, perhaps driven by a desire to escape her reality, even for a single night.

"So…" Cassia said slowly, her voice softer now, "she wore my dress because… her mother gave it to her?"

Anya nodded. "Looks that way. Probably altered it to fit. Wanted her daughter to have a nice dress for the party."

Cassia's gaze drifted, her mind racing. The situation was far more complicated than she had initially imagined. It wasn't about malice, but perhaps about desperation and a mother's love. Yet, the fact remained: her irreplaceable dress was stained.

"This changes things," Cassia murmured, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow. "It's not about her being a 'sneaky bitch' trying to fit in. It's… something else."

"So, what do we do now?" Anya asked, her own eagerness for revenge slightly tempered by Cassia's change in tone.

Cassia took a deep breath. The desire for outright retribution had lessened, but the issue of the ruined dress remained. "We still need to address the dress, Anya. But… maybe we approach this differently."

A new idea began to form in her mind, one that acknowledged Louisa's background without excusing the damage.