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.
"I thought you guys loved camping." I rolled my eyes, voice snarky.
I pointed a manicured finger at the two struggling to set up our tent, huffing and muttering at each other as they aggressively tugged at the natural pooling between them. They had only managed to unravel the material but were currently failing at the rest.
Glares cut across the space and I offered a sweet smile to support my encouraging words.
I sat on the grass against the bottom of the brick wall, stone cold against my spine. Laken sat on my right, arms crossed, eyes on the boys as they struggled with face shining with pure distance. His hatred for camping wafted off him in waves. On my other side, Adir sat in the same position, lips blowing at the air with boredom.
"You do it then." Bentley snarled. His thick hair was drooping down into his eyes as he tried to focus, skin glistening with a light coat of sweat. His muscles contracted beneath the white long- sleeve shirt he wore; his blazer currently beneath me as I sat on it to keep myself clean. Every time his face fluttered over, his brown eyes shined; immediately drawing me in.
I tried to look away, to focus on anything else—the walls, the sky, even Hendrix—but it was pointless. There was something magnetic about him, something that made the chaos around us fade into the background. I clenched my jaw, reminding myself to stay grounded, but I couldn't deny it: my attention kept snapping back to him, like a compass needle to some unshakable force.
He caught me staring once, or at least I thought he did, and for a moment, I froze. The world narrowed to him, his smile that wasn't quite a smile, and the way he focused so intently on his task.
I swallowed and quickly looked away. hall. I felt a blush creep up my neck, which was ridiculous because, of course, I was way too cool to get flustered over a simple glance. Still, my stomach did little somersaults, my heart picked up pace, and for a second I wondered if anyone else could hear it.
Deciding I'd had enough of hearing Hendrix and Bentley squabble like children —and my own heart fluttering — I shot to my feet. I stilled long enough to slip my ring off and hand it to Adir. He wordlessly took it, nose perked in confusion as if he hadn't been staring at it since we'd sat down an hour ago.
The ring was simple but gorgeous; two gold bands twisted and intertwined, small gems engraved along one band. And nested in the middle like a crown was a small rose gem.
"Sit down boys —let the queen work her magic." I announced, passing them. The two shared an obnoxious glance but moved away nonetheless. I stood before the messed material with manicured hands on my hips.
A moment passed. Then—click.
I swooped down, untangling the material with practiced ease and laying it flat on the ground. Grabbing the poles stacked to the side, I fitted each one in, making the fabric stand upright. I picked up the little flat hammer and tapped the pegs into the ground—gentle, precise, because unlike some people here, I knew how to use a tool without breaking a nail. I repeated the whole process three more times, fixed the corners, before dropping the hammer to the side and stepping back.
