The boarding school's common room smelled faintly of chalk dust and old varnish, the kind of scent that clung to every corridor. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a harsh glow on the mismatched couches and scuffed wooden tables. Reyna sat forward in one of the chairs, her posture rigid, eyes sharp as she drilled Amantha with questions. Her voice echoed off the tiled floor, clipped and impatient, each syllable bouncing like a reprimand from a headmistress.
Amantha fidgeted, her uniform collar tugged loose, fingers twisting the hem of her skirt. The interrogation had her pinned in place, her cheeks flushed under Reyna's relentless stare. I hovered nearby, trying to keep the situation from spiraling, my own nerves frayed by the tension that seemed to seep into the walls. The hum of distant chatter from the hallway only made the silence between Reyna's questions feel heavier. And then—because fate clearly enjoys mocking me—the door banged open. My idiot brother stumbled in, gasping for breath, his shoes squeaking against the polished floor as if he'd sprinted across the entire campus. His entrance shattered the fragile balance I'd been clinging to. Reyna's glare snapped toward him, sharp enough to cut glass, while Amantha seized the distraction like a lifeline.
The smell of sweat mixed with the stale air of the common room, his ragged breathing grated against my ears, and all I could think was: Perfect. Out of all the times, he had to pick now.
"Leah… Reyna… Amantha!" Connor managed to choke out, his voice ragged as he leaned heavily against the doorframe. His chest rose and fell like a bellows, sweat plastering his hair to his forehead. The fluorescent light above flickered, catching the sheen of his exhaustion, and the squeak of his shoes against the linoleum grated on my already frayed nerves.
Reyna's glare snapped toward him, sharp enough to slice through the tension in the room. Amantha shifted, her shoulders stiff, as if bracing for whatever came next. I pinched the bridge of my nose, silently cursing my idiot brother for barging in at the worst possible moment.
Connor swallowed hard, his words tumbling out between gasps. "Mrs. Rae… the headmistress… she wants to see you. All of you. And Sam Hunter's already waiting there." His announcement hung in the air like a death knell, the weight of authority pressing down on us.
The walk to Mrs. Rae's office was suffocating. The corridors smelled faintly of floor polish and old books, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the stone walls. My stomach churned with dread, every creak of the wooden floorboards amplifying the inevitability of what was coming.
Inside, Mrs. Rae stood behind her desk, her presence commanding the room like a storm cloud. Her eyes locked onto Amantha, cold and unyielding. The silence stretched until it snapped with her words: "Did you really think I'd let you hurt my student?" Her voice was low, deliberate, each syllable dripping with restrained fury.
The effect was immediate. Chaos erupted—voices clashing, chairs scraping against the floor, Amantha sputtering in protest, Reyna firing back with accusations, Connor trying to explain himself over the din. The air was thick with the scent of ink and paper, the sharp tang of tension so strong it felt metallic on my tongue. My head throbbed with the cacophony, and all I could think was that the fragile order of the boarding school had just shattered into pieces.
And Sam- he just stood there coolly. watching with something like......... amusement.
The office felt suffocating, the air heavy with the scent of old paper and polished wood. Mrs. Rae's words still hung in the silence—sharp, deliberate, impossible to ignore. Amantha's face had gone pale, her fingers twitching against the armrest of the chair as though she wanted to disappear into it.
Before anyone could breathe, Sam Hunter stepped forward from where he'd been waiting near the window. His voice cut through the chaos, steady but edged with accusation: "You can't just pretend this didn't happen. We would never let you hurt one of our own."
The words landed like stones in water, rippling outward. Reyna's chair screeched against the floor as she stood, her fists clenched tight. Connor shifted nervously, his shoes squeaking, the sound grating against my ears. The fluorescent light buzzed overhead, flickering as if it too was unsettled by the storm brewing in the room.
Amantha's protest rose in a strangled cry, drowned out by Reyna's sharp retort. Mrs. Rae's desk trembled under the weight of fists slamming against it, papers fluttering to the floor like startled birds. The smell of ink and dust mingled with the sharp tang of sweat, the chaos swelling until it felt like the walls themselves were vibrating.
And in the middle of it all, Sam's words echoed, impossible to erase, the spark that had set the whole room ablaze.