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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The double doors swung open extravagantly as we stepped through them. Soft ballroom music spilled into my ears, and the party unfolded before us in a wash of gold and warm light.
My arms remained tightly linked with the two boys at my sides. My white heels struck the floor like a powerful staff as I entered, each step echoing confidence. Not a strand of hair dared fall out of place. Heads turned—no one blinked, no one spoke—just silent stares tracking our arrival.
Gold banners trapezed from the ceiling and the wide dance floor stretched across the center of the room in front of the raised stage. White flowers lined the steps leading to it where a microphone stood in its holder. Rows of tables filled one side of the hall, adorned with shimmering candleholders, delicate lights, and plates of immaculate food. Servers weaved through the crowd, balancing trays of champagne flutes, while a live band played beside the platform, adding to the elegant spectacle.
The setup was undeniably stunning, but the event itself was the same every year—just repainted in a new color.
Clusters of people filled the room, talking and swaying on the dance floor. Men in tailored suits held champagne glasses as they bragged about estates and companies, while the women beside them gleamed like expensive accessories, chiming in with boasts of their own.
But all of it—the chatter, the laughter, the music—came to a halt the moment the doors slammed shut behind us, announcing our late entrance a little too loudly.
I spotted my parents almost instantly. Their faces shifted from shock to fury before smoothing into their well-practiced, socially acceptable expressions. My father's grip tightened around his champagne glass as he leveled a cold stare at us. At me.
My gaze drifted away from him, searching the room until I found Will. He stood further back, watching me with a small, encouraging smile. Relief loosened the tightness in my chest. I owed him an apology—desperately.
With a subtle flick of my wrist, i signalled for the music to coninue and it picked up once again. The music was gently on our ears and whisked around the room like a child drawn to a lollipop.
I steered the boys towards my parents, my hold tightening as we grew nearer.
Ignoring the strained looks on their faces, I stopped before them and offered a polite smile. "Mum. Dad." I gestured politely. "These are my friends." Each of the boys introduced themselves, and my parents returned stiff nods—though the fury burning beneath my father's eyes was anything but subtle.
I let my gaze travel around the room, pretending not to notice the way his stare scorched the side of my face.
I subconsciously tightened my arms around the boys. My stomach twisted and turned at the realisation that this was feeling too real and soon enough I would be on that stage, with a microphone in hand and news for the whole world —whatever it was.
