Lucky God System

Chapter 19: Westside Story, Cafeteria Edition

The next day, Elias returned to class. The teachers—who had been quietly enjoying his absence—couldn't help but let out a collective groan at the sight of him. Elias pretended not to notice their grim expressions.

They'd heard bits and pieces about his situation, and while a few felt a flicker of concern—as teachers ought to—most had been looking forward to a full month of peace. Yet somehow, here he was again, back in half the expected time.

Of course, the only teacher who showed genuine concern and enthusiasm was Mrs. Alden, as always.

"Good to see you've recovered so quickly," Mrs. Alden said warmly, adjusting her glasses as she handed him a stack of graded papers. The paper edges brushed against his fingers, still slightly warm from her hands. "And I'm so proud of you—your scores have really gone up despite your absence!"

Her brow furrowed. "You haven't been copying off your sister, have you?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Elias laughed. "Teach, no worries—it's all me. I never copy off my sister. I promise. She'd be the first to refuse me even if I wanted to."

He scratched his cheek, feeling a bit sour for being doubted.

Mrs. Alden's expression softened. "I believe you. I really do. But you should know… a sudden improvement like this is going to raise eyebrows. Some of the other teachers… well, they have the wrong idea about you. So don't be surprised if this question comes up again today, alright?"

She lightly patted his shoulder before turning to greet other students walking into the classroom.

Mrs. Alden had been right. Aside from Mr. Carver—his gym teacher, who didn't assign homework—and Mr. Quanda, with whom he already had top marks, most of his other teachers eyed his improved work with clear suspicion.

Elias couldn't help but slap his forehead in frustration. Maybe he should've paced himself more. He understood why they were doubtful—if a student who usually handed in B or C level work suddenly started turning in flawless A+ assignments, he'd be skeptical too.

But he didn't want to slow down. Eve would be graduating in less than six months—there was no time to hesitate in proving his skills.

He finally convinced them by demonstrating his understanding of each subject verbally and completing similar worksheets in front of them. Each teacher reluctantly let him off the hook, no longer insisting that he had cheated.

---

It was finally lunchtime. With the weather growing colder, Elias had given up on eating by the fountain and met Syler in the cafeteria instead. The room buzzed with conversation and reeked of old pizza, overcooked beans, and the faint tang of teenage B.O. Elias wrinkled his nose—his boosted stats had made his sense of smell more sensitive, and now he could pick out every student who thought they could get away with skipping a shower. Maybe they should've just eaten outside after all.

"Something wrong?" Syler asked, tilting his head at Elias's disgusted frown. Elias quickly tried to relax his expression when he noticed Syler's concern.

"Sorry," he said, rubbing his nose. "It just smells awful in here."

Syler sniffed the air curiously, his brows furrowing. "I don't smell anything," he said with a shrug.

Elias gave an awkward smile. He'd be surprised if Syler did.

"Just consider yourself lucky," he sighed.

They sat down at an empty table. As usual, Syler supplemented Elias's sad excuse for lunch with his home-cooked food. Elias laughed, patted his shoulder, and immediately began devouring it.

Halfway through their meal, Elias's eyes sharpened in alert. He shot a hand up in front of Syler's face and caught a flying open milk carton. It slapped against his palm with a wet thunk, cold liquid splashing across his fingers. A few drops clung to his sweater sleeve, seeping in and creating an uncomfortably soggy patch. Syler didn't come out completely dry—some splattered onto his black sweater and jeans—but thanks to Elias's reflexes, he avoided a full-on milk shower.

Syler froze, staring at the droplets on his clothes. He turned to Elias, mouth agape, stunned silent.

"You okay?" Elias asked, brow furrowed with concern.

Syler gave a shaky nod, still in shock. Once Elias was sure he was alright, he turned his gaze toward the source of the milk—his eyes narrowing.

At the front was Kevin, flanked by his usual gang and a new student Elias didn't recognize. The group moved in sync, following Kevin's lead with matching smug expressions. They even wore identical letterman jackets.

"Nice catch, Graves," Kevin sneered, slipping his hands into the pockets of his coat. "When'd you find someone to play catch with? I thought your pops skipped town."

His friends snickered, fanning out around Elias's table.

Elias rolled his eyes. "Wow, you guys are so coordinated. You're starting to look more and more like the stereotypical bully gang from a musical. I keep expecting you to start snapping your fingers and break into a song. Have you considered joining choir or the drama club? …Wait—you already have, haven't you, Kevin? You're a natural. Is that where you all get your inspiration from?" he jabbed, his smile curling into a smirk.

Kevin's face flushed bright red.

"So what if I'm in those clubs? I'm two years younger than all of you and already in the same grade—and ahead! I'm not some slacker like you! That's why I joined drama, chess, and choir—they're padding my transcripts for the future!" he shouted, slamming his fist on the table in a desperate attempt to defend himself.

Syler flinched, his body going rigid at the sudden bang.

The cafeteria fell silent. Heads turned. Dozens of eyes locked onto their table as whispers rippled through the crowd.

Elias scoffed and gave Kevin a cold look.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, man. But what you did earlier didn't sit right with me." His voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp. "You should apologize to Syler. I don't care if you screw with me—but that was clearly aimed at him. What's your deal?"

He leaned forward slightly, completely unbothered. He'd stared death in the face—why would he be afraid of a fourteen-year-old with something to prove? Kevin and his gang shifted uncomfortably under his glare.

Just then, Elias felt a hand grip his jacket sleeve. He turned to see Syler—pale and sweaty.

"Let's just go, Elias. Don't bother with them. I'm not feeling well," Syler said, clutching his sleeve tightly, his voice taut with anxiety.

Elias's brows creased with concern. Even if he'd wanted to teach Kevin a lesson, seeing Syler like that made him pause.

"Fine," he sighed. "Let's get you to the nurse's office."

He stood up and gently took hold of Syler's thin arm, ready to walk him out. As he reached for his leftover tray, one of Kevin's gang—the new kid—stepped in front of them.

"How dare you talk to Kevin and the others like that!" the boy sneered, blocking their path.

Elias blinked. He didn't even know this guy. Maybe, as the new kid, he was trying to score some credibility. Elias didn't care.

"Why don't you make like a tree and leave, you Kevin wannabe?" Elias muttered with an irritated scowl, shifting his weight to pass.

But the new kid held firm. "I'll show you what I'm made of, punk!"

He raised another open milk carton, clearly unaware of Elias's reputation—or his school nickname: Walking Disaster.

Kevin's eyes went wide. "Wait! Stop—!"

Too late.

The new kid stepped directly onto the slick patch of spilled milk and immediately slipped. His foot flew upward, sending the milk in his carton arcing through the air before crashing down on Kevin and his gang in a spectacular splash.

To make things worse, as he fell, his leg kicked the lunch tray out of Elias's hands—sending it flying straight into Kevin's face.

For a beat, the room was silent. Then a wave of barely-contained laughter swept through the surrounding students.

Kevin wiped milk and food bits off his face, his cheeks flushed with a mixture of fury and humiliation. He stormed over to the boy still sprawled on the ground and gave him a sharp kick to the side, earning a pained groan.

"I told you to stop, you damn idiot!" Kevin hissed through clenched teeth. His fists trembled at his sides as he shot Elias a seething look and muttered, "This isn't over."

He threw a quick, quiet glare toward Syler—who looked away, eyes trembling—then turned with a snort and stormed out of the cafeteria.

His entourage hesitated for a moment, awkward and unsure, before slowly trailing after him.

The new kid lay on the cold tile floor, staring up at the marble ceiling, questioning his life choices. He had no idea how things had gone so wrong so fast.

He wanted to cry.

His school life was over before it even began.

The rest of the cafeteria buzzed with excitement. Some of the boys snickered and called Kevin's group pathetic, while a few of the girls blushed as they glanced at Elias, seeing him in a new light. But just as quickly, they snapped themselves out of it. No matter how handsome he was, he was still a walking bad luck charm.

Elias let out a loud, satisfied whistle as he watched Kevin's group retreat.

"Works like a charm every single time," he said, turning his attention back to Syler.

Some color returned to Syler's face now that the confrontation was over. He collapsed into his seat without even letting Elias go.

"Hey, should I take you to the nurse's office? Seriously, are you okay? If they've been bothering you, just tell me! Not to brag, but those guys couldn't dare lay a finger on me," Elias added with a smug grin.

Syler gave a small smile and flicked Elias's forehead.

"Yeah, yeah—don't let your five minutes of fame go to your head. I think I'm okay now"

Elias rubbed his forehead with a groan.

"Why do you always have to rain on the parade, bro?" he muttered, turning away with exaggerated offense.

Syler just laughed and shook his head.

But once Elias's back was turned, Syler's smile slowly faded, replaced by something more conflicted. He was grateful—he truly was—but beneath that gratitude, something uglier stirred.

A heavy, gnawing sense of inferiority.

He hated feeling that way. He knew it wasn't fair—not to Elias, and not to himself.

Still, he buried it deep. No one needed to see that part of him.

Especially not his best friend.