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...
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It was now 7:30 and we were late. Really, really late. On the drive into the city, Hendrix wouldn't stop whining about McDonald's until everyone else joined in, so that became our first detour.
Our second was a donut shop because Bentley suddenly needed donuts. He proved this by slamming his hands down on my shoulders from the backseat and screaming "STOP!" loud enough to make me swerve and nearly introduce us to a tree.
Now we had half an hour left which was impossible, especially because I was technically an additional thirty minutes late. My parents expected me at 7 on the dot. The party didn't start until 8, but they knew I'd purposely show up late if they didn't drag me in earlier. My phone was blowing up with furious where are you? messages from—you know who.
Meanwhile, through all the chaos of almost hitting pedestrians, Adir sat calmly in the passenger seat FaceTiming Sophianna. He showed her random flashes of the scenery, and the boys and I yelled a quick hello before he lowered his voice again, smiling like an idiot. Sophianna only talked back just as eagerly as him, looking to be strolling outside as the trees in the background came into view.
I slammed on the brake as we entered the parking lot and I unbuckled myself, and was out of the car without missing a beat. The boys followed, letting the doors slam behind them as we sprinted across the street, dodging clusters of people even though the sun was nearly gone.
Adir was the first to reach the door of the high-end dress and suit shop I'd chosen, and we rushed into the bright, pristine space. The boys had originally protested, insisting it was too expensive and they didn't want to drain my wallet, but I assured them I had more money than they thought.
They froze in place—everyone except Hendrix—staring wide-eyed at the rows of immaculate racks and shelves. Hendrix and I dove straight in while the others stood there in awe.
I ushered them to find something and we all split our separate ways as we search every nook and corner. Colors, fabrics, and styles blurred as we moved. I grabbed a navy dress, held it up, shook my head, and tossed it aside.
Somewhere across the store, the boys were tearing through tuxedos like wild animals. They'd wanted matching, simple outfits, but I refused to let them look dull. A full suit flew through the air and landed in a heap right as a new customer walked in. She shot us a unamused look before skirting around us. Other shoppers kept their distance with disgusted expressions.
Rich people. Figures.
Nothing like wrecking a little havoc in a random store on a Thursday evening.
By my seventh rack, I found an emerald dress peeking out from the middle. I yanked it free, traced the detailed bodice with my eyes, then sighed and put it back. The shape was all wrong.
