Clear Lake Academy holds the worst of the worst delinquents from around the country. Each and every student there holds a notorious background that led them there and almost everyone avoids them.
After setting the tenth building on fire, which just...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Fresh air breathed life back into my soul as the driver swiftly opened the door. Bright life dazzled my senses as I looked past him to the massive school looming overhead. Carefully, I stepped out, heels steadying on the gravel as I rose to my full height.
Using the long ride to my advantage, I had fixed myself up with what minimal space and lighting I had. I ran a comb through my disheveled hair, brushes carefully and meticulously swiping a layer of makeup over my features so I looked a little less like I had spent the day in a police station. I exchanged my more desirable clothes for a pair of blue washed jeans and a simple white off the shoulder sweater —which was a struggle in the scrambled back seat. Moments later I had small gold hoops hooked through my ears and a gold locket resting against my collarbone —a reminder of a lost soul of my past. And just as we had pulled through the white stone walls, I traded my trainers for a pair of small black heels.
The school was enormous, to say the least. Two massive buildings stood apart from each other, connected by a stone path that wound around and between them. Bright green hedges—trimmed neatly and dotted with colorful flowers—lined every walkway. The buildings themselves looked like any typical boarding school: brick walls, rows of identical windows, nothing too special at first glance.
One building most likely held the actually classes whereas the other served as the student the accommodation.
I thanked the driver in advance, offering a tentative smile before walking ahead as he disappeared to wheel my suitcases and bags. The white stone steps were solid and height as they led to who I assumed was the headmaster, positioned before a set double glass doors.
Students spilled across the courtyard—talking, laughing, arguing, shooting hoops—completely absorbed in their own worlds. Yet I could still feel eyes on me, a mix of curiosity, confusion, and a few looks that were anything but welcoming.
I forced myself to keep walking. The last thing I needed was to look rattled on my first day.
As I climbed the final step, the headmaster's expression shifted ever so slightly, a practiced smile forming like he'd rehearsed this moment a hundred times.
"Welcome to Clear Lake," he said, voice calm but carrying a weight that made my stomach twist. "We've been expecting you." His choice of words didn't make me feel any better.
I reciprocated his smile, letting my eyes assess him briefly. His obsidian hair was gelled back, strands of grey peaking between the black —a sign of the stress this school must place on him. A small stubble ran along his jaw, his nose long and sharp, He wore a dark blue suit, accompanied by a gold watch that glimmered in the folds of the late sun.
He extended his hand, and I shook it, surprised by how steady his grip was—firm but not intimidating.
"I'm Headmaster Loarne," he said. "If you need anything at all, my door is always open. Truly." The reassurance eased something tight in my chest. He stepped aside and motioned toward the entrance. "Come on in. Let's get you settled."
