Slam Ducklings

lished hypocrisy. It was where old money met new ambition under the glittering pretense of altruism. The grand ballroom, a cavern of gilded Rococo excess, was filled with the low, respectful hum

e. Her dark hair was slicked back into a severe, elegant knot, a style that left no room for frivolity and exposed the clean, determined lines of her face. She moved through the crowd with the innate grace of someo

s of targeted aid with a board member when she s

against his throat. The sleeves were rolled up once, revealing strong forearms-a deliberate, almost rebellious contrast to the uniform black-and-white formality of the room. The scholarship boy, a splas

d Clara, ever the observer, leaned in, her whisp

the puzzle arrives. Ri

iny needles on her tongue. "Of course he's late. He probably thinks

f. You've been tracking the door for the last te

ice in her glass. She treated the water like ammunition

nts spun across the polished marble floor, their movements a studied performance of elegance. Faculty weaved thr

me The

o the lavish refreshments table, a monument of silver platters and crystal bowls, for a momentary

rough the polite chatter. "I've been listening. A lot of lofty words about 'gl

gilded tray. "I'm preparing it mentally. Unlike some people, I believ

the clean scent of his soap, a stark, earthy note amidst the floral

hands-his, capable and calloused; hers, slender and manicured-brushed. It was a static shock of contact, a jolt that made her fl

to slow, t

, staining it a ruinous burgundy. It drenched the pristine white of Dami's shirt, painting him like a victim in a slasher film. It cascaded over t

nt halt. Every eye in the room was pinned to the scene of the crime: the shattered glass, the spread

than some people's monthly rent. A cold, sharp fury crystallized w

she cho

eemed momentari

The words were a sh

rising to match her fury. "You

! This is a refreshments tabl

the way you pose every tim

e and a stone-faced Headmistress Dubois intervened, the entire gala had been reduced to a silent, staring a

t look at the ruined table or her stained shoes. Her gaze was fixed solely on t

ion was a physical blow. "But Headmi

eek of shared labor will teach you both the discipline and decorum that seem to have been overlooked in your otherwise... exceptional records." A faint, almo

h for only Sofia to hear, "Well, that should be fun. A week locked in a du

s flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the room's t

tion, the ne

of old wood polish. Sunlight streamed through tall, lead-paned windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air like forgotten spirits

den chairs. Sofia attacked the towering shelves with a ferocity that was borderl

n't go one single night without orchestrating some form of chaos

ing? That's a fancy word for a simple accident. And for the record, your gown had the reaction time of a sloth. Just stoo

re not

are you

A traitorous muscle at the corner of her mouth had indeed twitched. She pressed her lips into a firm

e banter continued, but its venom diluted. He started to whistle while he worked-a low, tuneful melody she didn't recognize but found, to he

mbossed with the academy's crest from a bygone era.

Even they looked stressed out. See the frown on this guy?

men and women, their faces frozen in solemnity. "They probably were," she said, a dry note

s-a warm, hesitant sound that seemed to startle the room itself. For a moment, the tension betwee

obbled precariously on the uneven floorboards. She let out a small, involuntary gasp, her arms flailing fo

act was

gainst her ribs, a frantic, wild rhythm. He held her for a beat too long, his face close to hers. She could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, t

at, the sound unnaturally

ad across his face, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which held a new, unreadabl

feeble defense. Her cheeks, she knew, were burning a bright, tell

n casting long, dramatic shadows across the parquet floor of the main hall. A careful, three-foot gap separated them,

lize from the shadows, her gaze sw

said, her voice a dry inquiry.

contrite elegance. "Yes, Headmistress. W

ry deeply," he echoed, his voice grave. "The profound import

a curt nod and continued on her way. The moment she turn

e," she whispered

, captivating smirk back in full force

ever. But she couldn't control the faint, undeniable smile that tugged at

, Later T

e Rumo

hadenfreude and

he archives library. He's saying something, his hands gesturing, and she's looking away, but she'

shared detention in the dusty old archives? That's a lot of forced proximity for a "rivalry" that seems to be generating more heat than hatred. The

ction, as pred

IT. IT'S THE ENEMIES-TO

nder. Sofia would never. She's

ay too happy for someone who

ion in that photo could power

ter in her stomach, Sofia Vega realized the game had irrevocably changed. This wasn't just a riva