Eldenwood's uniform policy existed in theory—enforced only during Monday assemblies. Vivian now regretted compliance as she shimmied from her pleated skirt. Lily Rao watched hungrily while Vivian pulled a linen sundress over her head.
"Skiving too, Vaughn?" Lily's voice held false lightness.
Vivian grunted, adjusting the dress's empire waist. Cassandra Vaughn's taste permeated the garment: prim lace trim, demure neckline, buttercup yellow—Melody's signature color. Roxy whistled low.
"Who crowned Anya Yin campus queen?" She traced Vivian's silhouette. "With these legs? Criminal."
Wendy Wang glanced up from calculus proofs. "Anya's held the title since middle school. Social media following, debate trophies..."
Vivian's fingers stilled on the closet rod. Anya's curated perfection mirrored Melody's—both architects of Vivian's gilded cage. Cassandra's "gifts" weren't generosity; they were assimilation tactics. Accept or face David Vaughn's disappointment.
Birth is a lottery ticket, Ms. Fontaine's voice echoed from memory. Some cash theirs at conception.
Lily: "Does this scream 'first-time truant'?" She modeled distressed jeans.
Roxy: "Screams 'trying too hard.' Lose the bedazzled pockets."
Wendy: (Without looking up) "Dragon Lady Li's auditing third period. Last chance for repentance."
Lily: "Zane's waiting! Can I borrow your Saint Laurent heels, V?"
Vivian: "In what universe?" She slammed the armoire.
Yueling watched from her bottom bunk, clutching The Great Gatsby. The dress transformed Vivian—sunlight catching flaxen threads, waist nipped like a Victorian heroine's. Yet her eyes held storms.
Yueling: "The color suits you."
Vivian: (Startled) "Yellow's Melody's branding."
Roxy: "Screw branding! You're Eldenwood's uncrowned queen."
A vibration cut through the room. Bryce's name flashed on Vivian's screen: WHERE ARE YOU, WILDCAT?
Outside, late-summer heat shimmered off colonnades. Lily jumped at every shout, fingers twisting her hem. "What if they call our parents? My dad'll freeze my cards—"
Vivian halted mid-stride. Across the quadrangle, Adrian Stone stood framed by Corinthian pillars. Ms. Fontaine's hand hovered near his elbow—a gesture of collegiate intimacy.
"ADRIAN!" The shout tore from Vivian's throat. "OVER HERE!"
Adrian didn't flinch. Ms. Fontaine's head snapped around, disapproval tightening her features. Vivian's sundress suddenly felt like a costume.
He smiled, she thought, recalling their earlier collision. For her.
Now, Ms. Fontaine murmured something that made Adrian's shoulders relax. His nod was a queen granting clemency. Vivian's chest constricted.
Ms. Fontaine watched Adrian disappear into AP Physics. Her sigh carried across the lawn: a teacher mourning potential squandered by circumstance. She'd said it once during assembly—Privilege isn't earned, it's drawn. Vivian Vaughn held the winning ticket; Adrian Stone played with borrowed chips.
Lily: "Stone's out of your league, Vaughn. Even Sterling knows it."
Vivian: "Sterling's scared of calculus. Different kind of coward."
Ms. Fontaine's heels clicked toward them. "Miss Vaughn. A word?"
Vivian: (Sweetly) "Rushing to seminar, Professor!"
Ms. Fontaine: "This isn't a runway. Eldenwood expects decorum." Her gaze swept the sundress. "Though I suppose Cassandra Vaughn's donations buy certain... allowances."
Vivian's smile hardened. Cassandra's "philanthropy" was reputation laundering—a fact Ms. Fontaine knew well.
Ms. Fontaine: "Convey my regards to Melody. She's submitting her Yale early decision today, yes?"
Vivian: "Wouldn't know. We don't share confidences."
Ms. Fontaine: "Pity. Sisters should be allies."
As she departed, Lily whispered, "Melody's applying to Yale?"
Vivian stared at Adrian's window. His silhouette moved behind leaded glass—a prisoner in a tower she couldn't scale.
Inside Building A, Ms. Fontaine paused at Room 306. "Miss Zhen? A moment."
Melody emerged—cashmere sweater, pearls at her throat. The anti-Vivian: subdued where her sister blazed.
"Your sister's... enthusiasm... towards Mr. Stone becomes disruptive." Ms. Fontaine chose words like surgical instruments. "As family, perhaps you could—"
"Vivian doesn't acknowledge family." Melody's smile didn't reach her eyes. "But I'll try."
They shared a look of weary understanding. Cassandra Vaughn had perfected dynastic alchemy: transforming David's guilt into control, Vivian's rebellion into pathology, Melody's compliance into currency.
Outside, Vivian yanked Lily toward the gates. "Nexus Arcade. Now."
"Should we change?" Lily panted.
"Why?" Vivian's laugh was bitter. "This dress is armor. Cassandra wants a doll? Fine. I'll be Eldenwood's weaponized porcelain."
Nexus Arcade Scene
Zane: (Not looking up from VR headset) "You wore a tablecloth?"
Bryce: (Eyes darkening) "Take it off."
Vivian: "Make me, Sterling."
Dylan: "Is that Melody's— OOF!" Bryce's elbow silenced him.
Lily: "She looked radiant! Like sunshine!"
Zane: "Sunshine causes cancer, Rao. Basic science."
Bryce cornered Vivian at the racing simulator. His thumb brushed her collar—Cassandra's lace now crushed under his grip.
Bryce: "Why wear her propaganda?"
Vivian: "Same reason you drive your dad's Ferrari. Remind them we're stolen artifacts."
Bryce: (Bitter laugh) "Wildcat's got claws today." He yanked the headset cord. "Canyon Run. You wreck the dress? I'll buy ten replacements."
Vivian: "Deal. Prepare your ego for demolition."
As engines roared digitally, Lily whispered to Zane: "Are they always like this?"
Zane finally removed his headset. "Like what? Volatile? Self-destructive? Doomed?" He smirked. "It's their love language, Rao. Bring popcorn next time."