NovelUSAChapter 296 The smile at the corner of her mouth faded. "What's she doing here?" "Who?" Hastings followed her gaze, a flicker of suspicion in his voice. "You mean Citrine Carmichael?" Kali nodded. "Yeah." Something seemed to cross her mind, and for a split second, a hint of malice glimmered across her face. She glanced at Hastings, trying to sound offhand. "By the way, with all these people going bare-faced, why is she the only one wearing makeup?" Her eyes darted slyly. "Shouldn't someone ask her to take it off?" The mention of makeup instantly brought this morning's incident to Hastings's mind, and his expression soured. He clenched his jaw before replying, "That is her bare face. She isn't wearing makeup." Kali was momentarily stunned.
"Maybe I was mistaken," she murmured, pressing her lips together. She glanced back at Citrine, and a wave of jealousy suddenly welled up inside her.
But with Hastings standing right beside her, she kept it hidden.
Hastings noticed Kali seemed less than fond of Citrine. "Do you know her?" he asked.
Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇtKali hesitated, then put on a reluctant air. "Remember I told you about that girl at Havencrest who used to pester your classmate?" Hastings's eyes widened. "You don't mean her, do you?" Kali nodded. "That's her." Hastings had never liked Citrine much to begin with, but now, hearing she'd once fought for the attention of his beloved sister Kali's friend, his dislike for her hardened into outright contempt.
He set his jaw, promising, "Don't worry. I'll make sure she gets what's coming to her." Kali instantly panicked and tried to wave him off. "No, Hastings, really-it's my problem, you don't need to get involved." Hastings scowled at her protest. "Con, Kali. When have you ever been bullied and I didn't stand up for you?" Kali fell silent at that, and after chatting with Hastings a little longer, she finally left.
Just then, Hastings blew his sharp, commanding whistle, and everyone snapped to attention, lining up in formation.
His voice rang out, loud and clear. "Next-five hundred push-ups." "Five hundred? That's insane!" "Just letdie already." Grumbling and groans rippled through the ranks.
Hastings cut them off coldly. "Less whining, or I'll make it a thousand." Not a single person dared protest again. Everyone dropped to the ground and started.
The midday heat soared to a brutal 110 degrees-no one could catch their breath.
They gasped for air, arms trembling with every push.
In contrast, Citrine-aside from a fine sheen of sweat on herforehead-looked perfectly composed. Her form was flawless, her pace steady and fast. Hastings watched her for a long moment, searching for a fault and coming up empty.
After eight minutes, Citrine was the first to stand. "Sir, push-ups completed." Everyone looked at her with envy; the first to finish always got to rest.
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmBut Hastings wasn't about to let her off so easily.
He glared, his tone harsh. "Why did you get up before reporting properly? Always eager to stand out, aren't you? If you love the spotlight so much, do another five hundred." Citrine didn't argue. She simply got back on the ground and started again.
She hadn't followed protocol, so she accepted the punishment without complaint. No one else thought much of it.
But as the training went on, it becclear: the instructor was singling Citrine out, making excuses to punish her.
All afternoon, she outperformed everyone, yet she always got the harshest penalties.
When dinner rolled around, the other groups were dismissed, but Citrine was still put on the field, enduring extra drills.
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