Lottie's fingers trembled slightly as she plugged in her headphones, the low hum of the laptop blending into the faint whispers of the night. The glow of the screen painted sharp angles across her face, throwing shadows along the curve of her jaw. She pressed play.
There it was—the recording she'd captured during P.E., Evelyn's glossy transcript pulled up on the phone, the perfect grades, the flawless façade, exposed for what it was: a crafted illusion.
Her heart beat hard, a fierce rhythm pulsing in her ears. With each second of footage, her breath quickened, a tangled cocktail of triumph and caution tightening in her chest. She scrubbed through the clip, trimming the excess, isolating the damning evidence. Every frame was a dagger, sharpened and gleaming. Her fingers grazed the trackpad, the faint warmth of the laptop brushing against her skin, the soft whirr of the fan filling the tense silence around her. She swallowed, throat dry, a sharp, metallic taste curling at the back of her tongue.
A soft ping startled her.
[Leo: Need a hand with the tech?]
A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, the tension in her jaw softening just a fraction. She typed back, fingers light on the keys, the familiar tap-tap-tap steadying her racing pulse.
[Lottie: Already slicing it clean. But thanks, genius.]
The reply came with wicked speed.
[Leo: Didn't peg you for a hacker queen. Careful—school's going to combust.]
Her pulse kicked up another notch, fingers drumming absently against the edge of the desk. The faint clatter echoed in the otherwise silent room, a delicate rhythm beneath her shallow breath. She could feel the slight tremor in her knees where they pressed against the underside of the desk, the taut coil of adrenaline twisting through her muscles.
Across the room, Amy hovered near the window, shifting from foot to foot, her phone clutched tightly in her hands. She kept glancing over, biting at the corner of her lip, tension etched deep into her narrow shoulders. Her reflection wavered faintly in the glass, a pale ghost outlined against the night. The streetlights outside bled dim gold across the windowpane, casting a halo around Amy's anxious silhouette.
"Amy," Lottie said quietly, not turning from the screen, her voice smooth as silk, her gaze sharp as glass. "Relax. It's just noise until I say otherwise."
Amy startled, fingers tightening around her phone until her knuckles paled. "I—I just… Evelyn's been acting weird all day. Like, smiling too much. Laughing too hard. It's freaking people out."
Lottie's fingers stilled for a beat, the cursor blinking steadily on the screen like a pulse. Then, without a flicker of hesitation, she hit upload.
The file zipped through cyberspace, landing squarely on the school's notorious forum, nestled between threads of memes, rants, and last-minute homework pleas. For a heartbeat, it sat there, quiet, almost innocent.
Then the flood began.
Notifications lit up like wildfire. Threads exploded, comments stacked in furious towers. The soundless explosion of chaos unfurled on the screen—hearts, shocked emojis, exclamation-studded comments racing by faster than she could read.
IS THIS REAL?!
Wait—Evelyn Hayes doctored her grades??
No way, someone's trolling—right?
Check the clip. It's all there.
Lottie leaned back, stretching her arms over her head, the faint crack of her spine snapping through the hush. A breath pushed from her lips, slow, measured, cool air brushing her skin like a whispered promise. Her eyes flicked toward Amy, who was now hugging her arms tightly across her chest, nails digging faint half-moons into the soft skin of her forearms.
"Breathe," Lottie murmured, her voice low, edged with quiet satisfaction. "We're only getting started."
Amy's face went pale, her lower lip trembling as she hugged herself tighter, phone pressed to her chest like a lifeline. Her gaze darted between Lottie and the laptop, wide and frantic.
"Lottie, this is—this is going to blow everything up." Her voice cracked on the last word, brittle as spun sugar. "What if the teachers—what if Evelyn finds out it was you?"
Lottie tilted her head slightly, the faintest curve of amusement tugging at her mouth. "She'll know," she murmured, fingers brushing a loose strand of hair from her face. "That's the point."
Outside the window, the night stretched heavy and dark, the hush of the neighborhood broken only by the occasional snap of wind against the pane. The light from the laptop screen flickered across Lottie's face, a cold glow that carved her features into something sharp, determined. Her skin prickled faintly, the air charged with the anticipation coiling tight inside her.
The school forum was a warzone now. Comments split between defenders and skeptics, old stories bubbling to the surface. Little cracks appeared in Evelyn's perfect mask—threads from classmates who'd felt her icy charm slip, teachers who'd raised quiet questions, alumni who murmured that nothing gold ever stayed.
Amy made a small, choked sound in the back of her throat, fingers trembling against her phone as she scrolled furiously, the glow of the screen casting sharp light against her pale skin. "Oh God," she whispered, voice small and breaking. "Oh God, it's—it's everywhere."
Another ping.
[Leo: That storm you ordered? Delivered.]
A small huff of laughter slipped from her, barely a breath, barely a sound. She let her fingers tap out a quick response, the click of keys precise, sure, the edge of a grin ghosting at her lips.
Across the room, Amy pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, watching the forum light up with a helpless sort of fascination. Her shoulders hunched, the slight shake in her knees visible as she leaned her weight against the windowframe.
The sharp buzz of her own phone startled Lottie again, rattling across the desk. She snatched it up, thumb skimming across the screen.
Evelyn's public post had just gone live.
"Hey, everyone—really sorry for the confusion today! Looks like a mix-up with some old files. I'm meeting with the school to sort it out. Thanks for the support—love you all!"
Lottie's laugh was soft, sharp, a breath against the back of her teeth. She dragged a finger down the screen, eyes gleaming.
"Panic looks good on her," she murmured, the words slipping free without thought, laced with a quiet thrill. Her fingers itched faintly, the familiar restless pulse of adrenaline tightening through her wrists. She could almost hear Evelyn's voice—polished, sweet, perfectly modulated—cracking at the edges behind the mask.
Amy squeezed her eyes shut for a second, rocking on her heels. "Lottie… are you sure this is the right move?" Her voice trembled, the question threaded with fear, doubt, maybe even a flicker of regret.
Lottie turned slightly, gaze cutting to Amy with the precision of a blade. "You've known her longer than I have," she said, voice low, silk drawn over steel. "Tell me—when has Evelyn ever played fair?"
Amy opened her mouth, a protest catching on her tongue, but it died there, crumbling under the weight of everything she couldn't say. She sagged, shoulders curling in, fingers twisting together. A faint flush crawled up her neck, eyes shimmering faintly as she blinked hard, looking down at the pale blue glow of her phone.
The blue glow of the laptop washed over Lottie's skin as she turned back to the screen. Threads multiplied, splintering into wild speculation and sharp accusation. She watched the numbers climb, the views tick up, the likes pour in. She could almost feel the air in the school hallways tomorrow—thick, electric, humming with tension, the sharp prickle of eyes on her back, the low, charged murmur of voices darting between praise and suspicion.
Her heartbeat pounded in her chest, sharp, fast, bright against her ribs. Beneath the thrill, under the rush, a cold thread curled tight in her gut, whispering caution. She exhaled slow, steadying, fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the desk, grounding herself in the cool wood.
A knock on the door sliced through the tension like a blade. Amy jumped, a sharp little yelp escaping her throat as her phone nearly slipped from her hands. Her eyes flew to Lottie, wide and panicked.
"It's just my mom," Lottie murmured, barely glancing up. Her ears strained, catching the muffled steps fading down the hall. Her fingers flexed once, twice, before settling again on the trackpad, muscles tight with the strain of restraint.
She logged off, the blue light vanishing in a click, plunging the room into a softer, dimmer hush. Her breath caught for a second in the quiet, the sudden absence of noise ringing faintly in her ears.
Then, like a blade sliding between her ribs, a new message popped up on the screen, small, stark, cutting through the noise like a whisper from the dark.
Unknown: Careful. They're watching.
For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to that single line. Lottie's fingers hovered above the keys, breath snagging in her throat, the rush of blood in her ears a sudden roar. Her chest tightened, a cold knot blooming sharp under her sternum.
Her mind raced—who? How much did they know? A flicker of heat, cold, bitter, sliced down her spine. Goosebumps prickled along her arms, her skin tightening, breath shallowing.
Behind her, Amy shifted nervously, the soft scuff of a foot against the rug, the faint catch of breath. "Lottie?" she whispered, voice small, almost afraid.
Lottie's lips curved, slow, deliberate, the shape of resolve sliding into place. The faintest tremor ran through her fingers, but when she curled them into a fist, it was steady, sure.
"Get some sleep, Amy," she murmured, voice soft, even, the hush of silk over a dagger's edge. "Tomorrow's going to be noisy."
Amy hesitated, a beat too long, eyes darting between Lottie and the darkened laptop, before shuffling toward the door. Her fingers lingered on the handle, trembling faintly, before she slipped out, casting one last, wide-eyed glance back. The click of the latch echoed faintly as the room folded back into quiet.
Lottie sat alone, the glow of the message burning on her screen. Her heart beat once, twice, sharp against her ribs, adrenaline threading cold and sweet through her veins.
She let her fingers tap once against the desk, a soft, thoughtful rhythm, before lifting her gaze to the dark window, the faint outline of her reflection staring back. The hollow hush of the house wrapped around her, the air heavy with the electric quiet before the storm.
They were watching.
Good.
Let them.