Meet Park Sparrow, a feisty and reckless outcast who's just a small-town girl, living in a lonely world. Except Park is the Princess of Cimeria, a potential heir to one of the last monarchies in the world. All her life, Park has known nothing but po...
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On a fantastically sunny day like this, where the morning rays of the sun casted warm light on the mountainsides and toasted the surface of the lakes, and the birds tweeted the coming of summer, there was nothing better to do than to relax on the deck of the lake house, sipping your third mimosa while plopping fresh blueberries into your mouth.
Was I doing any of that? No.
Instead, I was still at the academy, the sleeves of my dress shirt rolled up since apparently it was an actual sin to wear casual clothes on campus. Despite the blasting air conditioning and the light wind floating through all of the arched windows, nothing could counter the collective sweat and humidity building up in the Main Hall due to the dozens of students crammed inside, all of them waiting for the release of rankings.
"Do you know what I call people who come to school on a Friday morning the day after exams end?" I asked, glancing down at Logan from where I was perched on the windowsill.
"You mean the dedicated group of students eagerly waiting to see the fruits of their hard work all semester long?" he replied, not looking up from the school magazine in his hands.
"Losers."
"Well, you're here, aren't you?"
"Only because you forced me."
"What's wrong with being here?" Logan asked with genuine curiosity. "There's a nice sense of camaraderie right now, don't you think?"
A screaming match erupted near the entrance between two girls. As the crowd watched on, the girls launched at each other, their hands clawing at each other's hair, earrings, and faces. One of them managed to form a chokehold before their friends stepped in and pulled them both away.
"Camaraderie, huh?" I mused.
Friendships weren't the only things falling apart. Tucked in the corner was a girl, her knees now visibly red from the amount of time she'd spent kneeling on the cold ground. Her palms were pressed together, her head bent back towards the ceiling while an inaudible prayer fell from her lips. A boy nearby was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself while his hands shook uncontrollably.
"Why are we even here?" I asked, crossing my arms. "You don't even need to see the rankings. Everyone knows Logan Cross is ranked first."
Logan shrugged. "I like seeing my name on lists. Especially on lists where I'm number one."
"Narcissistic, much?"
Logan finally looked at me from over his shoulder, a corner of his lip slightly turned up. "At least I'm on it."
"Is that supposed to be a flex?"
"My entire existence is a flex, princess." Without hesitation, Logan seamlessly switched his dialect into Cimerian, a habit he was picking up ever since last week.
