Orchid Gray and Navaeh Naylor still hadn't spoken, but Orchid needed to change things up. After finishing an essay on the World Wars, she changed into a light gray dress and threw on a black leather jacket. In the mirror, she wondered if she should go after all. I should have fun and treat myself every once and a while, Orchid told herself. Maybe change would be good. She was heading to the party of the night, a party thrown at Caleb Muller's.

She actually didn't know Caleb, but he was a friend of Navaeh's boyfriend, Jackson Millers. Millers, Muller, it didn't matter. When Orchid arrived, the house reeked of booze and...smoking weed. A girl named Laura opened the door, giggling flirtatiously. I think she mistook me for a boy, she winced. She stepped out of the foyer and into the kitchen.

Orchid got a drink on the counter, then spat it out once she realized it was vodka instead of water. These drinks need labels or something, she thought as the music drummed through the walls. Outside on the backyard lawn, there were drunk teens and hazy smoke.

God, I'm totally out of my element. Why did she come here? It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. Orchid grimaced as she saw a pair of girls pass by, giggling drunkenly. For a second, she wished Navaeh and her were that duo of drunks.

Orchid grabbed another drink in a red Solo cup, made sure it was just fruit punch, and went over to the stairs. She sat at the bottom step, the upper ones were taken by couples who decided to make out on the spot. Gross, she thought. The pounding music was destroying her eardrums as she groaned in frustration.

"Orchid Gray?" a male voice asked. Orchid looked over to see Jackson Millers sit next to her, holding a plastic cup of what seemed to be alcohol. His fiery red hair drooped over his head as he set down the cup. "I didn't th-think you'd come here," he slurred.

She got defensive. "And why's that?"

"Because you don't know Caleb, plus Navaeh's here." Navaeh? Orchid scanned the crowd for her best friend—or ex-best friend—to no avail. "Don't worry, Navaeh's never mad at someone for long—"

"I know that, I'm her best friend!" Orchid snapped before blanching. That attack came out of nowhere, even to Jackson, who she loathed. "Er, s-sorry, I didn't mean that." She heard the stutter in her voice and was ashamed.

Hillary haunted her.

Jackson sat next to her, sighing. He leaned back, propping up his elbows. "I also didn't think you were the party girl type." His eyes wandered up and down her body lazily. He did not give Orchid a good feeling.

"I'm the everyone-else-type-of-girl," Orchid muttered, clutching her cup until the fruit punch came spilling out. She swore and Jackson laughed as she wiped the stairs clean with her sleeves. "I just came since I need a distraction."

"I can be your distraction." Jackson's hand suddenly wrapped around Orchid's waist, making her stiffen as his ragged breath came down on her neck. His hand then slid down to her thigh, giving it a tight squeeze. Orchid knew it, she always knew that Jackson was going to break Navaeh's poor heart.

"Uh, Jackson, can you move your hand?" She sounded so weak and pathetic. She tried to scoot away from him, but his grasp was strong. He leaned against her, his breath smelt like booze, and the hand went from thigh to calf. "You're Nava's boyfriend."

"She can wait." His words were sloppy and it was apparent he was drunk.

"Navaeh loves you, you know. You were never good enough for my friend."

He sunk in place, staring up at the ceiling. "Don't tell Navey, she'll leave me." For good reason, Orchid thought bitterly. "It's hard enough when she g-goes off to the dark side with Hillary, don't do this, Orchid."

"You tried to—"

"Because you're fu-uuuu-n," he sang, chuckling. He was a madman.

"Then you only see Navaeh as fun, Jackson." Orchid, embarrassed out of her mind, needed to go now. She pushed Jackson away and he relented, his eyes lidded and downing another cup of alcohol. He was a mess. Standing up, embarrassed and frustrated, she went down the stairs, wrapping her arms around her waist.

Was everyone looking at her? Orchid felt exposed and stupid, what if someone saw them? With Jackson's stinky breath and warm hand on her cold leg, it seemed scandalous. She shuddered as people around her partied hard. She slipped away through the front door, tripping on the porch's step and landing on the fake grass. It was plasticky and she felt as if she was going to cry. Why was everything going so wrong?

I need to tell Navaeh about her scum of a boyfriend, she thought. Orchid was breathless by the time she got back up, holding out her phone. Orchid thought that 'Hey, I know you barely trust or talk to me anymore, but your boyfriend's trying to flirt with me. By the way, are we good?' wasn't going to cut it. Orchid decided to walk home first and then call, it would give her time to think about what to say.

She dialled Navaeh's number, waiting for her friend to pick up. It was a cold, silent night as the breeze flitted across Orchid's face. Finally, Navaeh picked up. "Orchid?" It filled her with relief.

"Oh my god, Navaeh, it's been ages."

"Yeah, for a reason."

What was that supposed to mean? How backhanded. "Are you busy? I need to talk to you."

"I'm out with Hillary and the girls," Navaeh replied bluntly, sounding slightly bored. The Navaeh that Orchid knew would be ecstatic to chat over the phone. She vaguely remembered their unhinged text messages before the summer that Navaeh started hanging out with Hillary. "Can I call you back?"

"It's important, Nava," Orchid begged, chewing the insides of her cheeks. "Please?"

"Navaeh," someone called for Navaeh, Orchid recognized it as Hillary's voice. Damn it, she thought. No, damn you, Hillary.

"Sorry, Orchid, I'll call you back in the morning."

"Wait—"

Navaeh hung up, leaving Orchid dumbfounded. Your heartbreaker of a boyfriend landed me in this mess, she couldn't help but scowl. Sitting on her front porch, the scowls turned into croaking sobs. Orchid didn't want this, she didn't want Jackson and his groping, she wanted her friend back. Of course, Navaeh Naylor was just waiting for things to blow up in her face.

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

Stoll looked up at the ceiling, wondering if Samuel Anders and Maya Bell were looking over them. I could own this place, he thought. Sam and I could own this place. Technically, the land was stolen by Bill Johnston, but it was originally the Finnegans'. Stupid Headmaster Roux would never give up the academy though, he'd only hand it over on the day he died. Did Roux know about Anders and Bell?

"Stoll?" Sam's voice came from the doorway. Stoll quickly sat up in bed, his curly hair messed up as he threw off the comforter. Sam looked so much older now, looming over him. Stoll was still waiting for a growth spurt. "I heard from Mrs. Black, that you tried to steal her wedding ring from the Cleaners' Quarters."

Panic and dread filled Stoll. Suddenly, he was back in Professor Yarwood's classroom on the day of his birthday, seeing his older brother steal some valuable items, including some hard cash. Sam's back was turned as he stuffed the items in the bag and Stoll felt suffocated when his brother spun around, face frozen. You were my hero, he wanted to cry out. How could you get twisted up into the villain of the story?

"I—"

"Can't believe you tried to steal from Mrs. Black out of everyone, Professor Yarwood and other teachers are dumb enough to not notice until it's too late, but Mrs. Black is smart." Sam's face was darkened with fury. "You embarrassed us, Stoll, I had to apologize to her! You're lucky she treats us like family or she would have gone to Roux, blabbering off."

"I-I know," Stoll stammered. "But you said we needed more money for supplies—"

"Oh, my foolish boy, are you that idiotic? We don't steal from family!" Sam roared, becoming more menacing. Our family is already broken, Stoll, despite his anger as well, shrank away. "Everything I steal, it's for us! For you, Stoll! Did you think we'd always stay here? In this land full of filthy lies?"

The thought never occurred to him. "No." His legs dangled off the bed as his eyes flitted to Sam. Since Dad left, both of the Finnegan brothers had grown distant and cold. Stoll had to admit that they both had anger issues and it usually ended up with a violent clash.

"I'm going to give up university for this job." He gritted his teeth, clenching his teeth. Stoll's heart sank, he knew how much Sam wanted to go study literature and other academic arts. Sam also mentioned doing coding, he was smart; he had lots of opportunities. "This stupid groundskeeping job keeps us afloat, so we can still live in the Finnegan House. So I can still take care of you. Do you think it's easy, Stoll?"

"No." No was all Stoll ever seemed to say when Sam was around.

"Exactly! We're family, we don't stray from each other, we hunker together, especially after Mom died and Dad left." He leaned against the door frame, sighing. "Mrs. Black took pity on us, and so did Mr. O'Donnell."

"I know."

"Keep stealing from professors and students," Sam continued, "but never from Mrs. Black or Mr. O'Donnell. It's time to realize that our reality is this, Stoll, and we have to seize it. You think Headmaster Roux is deserving of the Silverleaf Academy? One day, justice will come to light and we will get everything we deserve, understand?"

Stoll was speechless, merely nodding. "Okay."

"Grow up, my boy."

┉┈◈◉◈┈┉

"Sar, come here, sweetie," Mama whispered lightly, holding her hand. They arrived back home, and Papa slammed the car door. He lit a cigarette, the haze of smoke following them as they went inside the house. Both of the girls' hands were clammy as they clung to each other. They were scared and Sarah couldn't help but wonder what life would be without fear.

"That Ally Levine doesn't get to decide what's good for my child," he spat, the spittle flying to the floor.

"Our child," Mama reminded him. Sarah clasped her hands, shutting her eyes. Why did they always have to fight in front of her? Didn't Mama and Papa know that it was tiring for her as well?

"I goddamn know that, Elina."

"Please, don't argue right now," Mama muttered as Papa tossed the cigarette away in an ashtray, grabbing a beer bottle from the fridge. "Oh God, not another drink..." Papa chugged it, throwing the bottle on the floor. The glass shattered and Sarah screamed, jumping back.

"It's all your fault, Elina!" Papa screeched, his face flushed with colour. He looked menacing, rocking back and forth on the heel of his feet. He stumbled, growling as Mama clutched Sarah. "You bitch..."

"Stay b-back," Mama stammered. "Don't—"

Papa lunged forward, striking Mama's face. A red mark grew on her cheek as she howled in pain.n Sarah dove out of the way, knocking into the ashtray. Sparks flew, catching on the rug. Multiple burnt cigarettes scattered, causing a wave of flames. Sarah's eyes flickered to the open windows around the house because it was summer and hot. Wind plowed inside, making the fire spread.

"Mama!" she screamed again, gasping as the flame caught on the rug. The fire grew and a thick blanket of smoke veiled her. "Help! No, no—" She tripped over the broken glass, cutting her knees. "M-Mama!"

"Sar! We need to get out!" Mama roared, grabbing her daughter and yanking her back on her feet. Sarah was breathing heavily as smoke filled the room, covering her mouth and nose with her sleeve. "Where's your papa?" They wandered through the haze of smoke, coughing and stumbling, passing by the dinner table before coming to the backdoor.

Mama fumbled with the backdoor's lock, the door swinging open. The gusts of wind only made the fire spread, so Mama pushed Sarah outside on the back porch. She landed with a thud, dazed as she sat up. My head hurts, she thought, wincing. Turning around, her eyes widened in horror.

Papa's hand was locked around Mama's ankle, pulling her back into the smoking house. "Elina, Elina!" he groaned as flames quickened around them. He was on the floor, it looked like he sprained his ankle, unable to walk. The blazes of orange and yellow consumed the dinner table. Mama shouted for Sarah to run, to call 9-1-1, but Papa was going to kill her... "You don't leave me!" he yelled. "If I die, so do you!"

"Stop it!" she screeched at him. Sarah yanked Mama's hand, pulling her out of the house, and Papa's hand slipped from her mama's ankle. Mama stumbled to the ground, gasping for air.

She slammed the backdoor on Papa's face as she heard an explosion of heat and her father scream. There were bangs and rapid knocks on the door as she quickly locked it. Shrieks echoed through the burning house as they quickly ran to the front of Sarah's home. Out there, they could see the inferno of a mess.

"Sar..." Mama grappled for Sarah's hand. "Oh God." They had left Papa to die. Even at a young age, she understood everything. By locking the door on purpose, it was a choice to let Papa burn in hell.

Sarah Le Vil killed someone.

Did she regret it?

Never.