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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L A K E N
I walked down the hallway of the accommodation building, the quiet almost eerie after everything that had happened. Most people were either in class or gathered outside, pretending life hadn't nearly shattered.
Pandora's door was slightly ajar.
My shoulders tensed.
I stepped inside carefully, scanning the room—and came face to face with Sophianna. Relief washed through me. Thank God it wasn't anyone else.
"Oh —hey Laken." She greeted, startled.
"Hey, Soph." I closed the door gently behind me and offered her a small smile. "What are you doing?" I moved toward Pandora's desk, grabbing her black backpack from the chair.
"Nothing suspicious, I promise." Sophianna said lightly. "I'm looking for some pink glitter Pandora told me she had. Me and Liliane want to make her a banner for when she wakes up."
Despite everything, a quiet laugh escaped me. "The glitter?"
"Yeah."
I shook my head, remembering the glitter explosion prank we'd pulled on Hendrix during Pandora's first week here. He'd been finding sparkles in his clothes for months afterward.
"Did you find it?" I asked, glancing at her over my shoulder.
"No," she sighed. "I'll try the janitor's cupboard instead."
She crossed her arms loosely, looking smaller than usual. Before she could say anything else, her phone rang.
She checked the screen and her expression shifted—neutral, guarded.
"I'll be back. I need to take this." she said. "Let me know if you need help!" She offered before she was gone.
I turned back to the task at hand. I opened Pandora's wardrobe and pulled out a few comfortable outfits—hoodies, soft joggers, socks. I packed toiletries, her charger, a book she'd been halfway through. Anything that might make the hospital feel less sterile when she woke up.
Bentley and Hendrix were with her right now. Bentley had practically fused himself to the hospital chair beside her bed, refusing to leave. Hendrix was there too, claiming he was "emotional support," though we all knew he needed it just as much as anyone.
It had only been allowed because of Will. Being head of police had its advantages—especially when you were negotiating with hospital administration.
I grabbed the bag, swinging it onto my shoulder and headed out. A different backpack for Bentley sat on my other shoulder. I locked up her room with the key I had and headed for the staircase as the elevator was out of use.
