Saints of Sin

Perfect Angel, Huh?

The next morning dawned bright and early, and as usual, Andrés was the first one awake at the stronghold, buzzing with energy. His internal clock was set to "hyper," and he was practically vibrating with excitement as he shot out of bed like a cannonball, a blur of messy hair and mismatched socks. Today wasn't just any day—it was the day he was going to prove, once and for all, that he could go an entire twenty-four hours without causing any trouble. The mere thought of pulling off this legendary feat sent a thrill of excitement through him, as if he were about to conquer Everest or, more accurately, survive a full day of school without getting detention.

Andrés flung open his closet doors with a flourish, revealing the colorful chaos within. His wardrobe was a kaleidoscope of clashing patterns and eye-searing hues, each item more outrageous than the last. He scanned the options, his hand hovering over a neon-green hoodie that looked like it could glow in the dark. But then his eyes landed on something even better: a startlingly bright pink sweater vest that practically screamed, *Look at me!*

It was almost offensively pink, the kind of color that could burn out retinas and make people question their life choices, but that only made it more perfect. Andrés pulled it over his bare chest, smirking at his reflection as the vest hugged his toned muscles. He struck a few ridiculous poses, admiring the way the vest managed to both clash with and complement his slightly more subdued pink jeans.

"Thee-thee's going to lose it when he sees this," Andrés muttered to himself, chuckling as he reached for his sneakers. They were white, or at least they had been at some point in the distant past. Now they were a mix of scuffs, doodles, and random splashes of color that told the story of a hundred impulsive adventures.

He tossed his backpack over one shoulder—a backpack that had seen better days and was covered in various patches, stickers, and a few mysterious stains. With a quick glance around his room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything important (like, you know, his sanity), he bounded out the door, taking the stairs two at a time. The stronghold was still quiet at this hour, with everyone else either asleep or pretending to be. Andrés tiptoed down the hallway, resisting the nearly overpowering urge to burst into song or execute a perfectly timed prank.

No, today was about proving a point, and that meant keeping things—relatively—low-key. He passed by his nicer instructor's room, and for a split second, he considered waking him up with a well-placed air horn blast. But instead, he shook his head, silently giving himself a pat on the back for showing such restraint. This is growth, he thought proudly.

Andrés made his way to the kitchen, where the smell of coffee was just beginning to waft through the air. He wasn't much of a coffee drinker—why would someone with his energy levels need caffeine?—but he loved the smell. It reminded him of lazy mornings with his friends, each of them clutching mugs of steaming coffee like lifelines (probably because Andrés ran to their houses at the crack of dawn to irritate them) while he babbled on about whatever insane dream he'd had the night before.

He grabbed a green apple from the fruit bowl, tossing it in the air a few times before taking a big, crunchy bite. The tartness snapped him fully awake, and with a spring in his step, he headed out the door. The morning air was crisp and cool, with just a hint of autumn in the breeze. Perfect weather for a day of being on his best behavior, he mused.

When he met up with the others at their usual spot on the way to school, Andrés was practically vibrating with anticipation. The sight of his friends waiting for him—Theo with his ever-present air of calm skepticism, Icarus with their nose buried in a book, and August with his usual sleepy but content look—only made him more determined to succeed.

August was the first to spot him, and his reaction was immediate and dramatic. "AUGH, GODS, WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!" he exclaimed, shielding his eyes from the pink assault. He reached out hesitantly to poke at Andrés's bare arms with one finger, as if afraid the brightness might be contagious.