Daybreak painted Eldenwood's gothic towers in liquid gold. Vivian Vaughn slumped against the Broadcast Hub's sound panel, eyelids heavy as lead. Dylan Sterling observed her yawn with amused detachment while Bryce Fitzwilliam and Scott Li droned through probation manifestos—mechanical recitations stripped of remorse.
Vivian's turn arrived. She blinked at her crumpled parchment.
"Esteemed Dean Blackwood, faculty dragons, and fellow prisoners of this ivy-covered purgatory..."
Her improvisation unfolded—a theatrical recounting of yesterday's illicit arcade escapade, punctuated by exaggerated sighs. Bryce muffled laughter into his blazer.
Then came the pivot.
"Finally, this penitence is dedicated to Adrian Stone, the Stone Sentinel of Pinnacle Honors—"
Dean Blackwood's roar shattered the studio door: "VAUGHN!"
Vivian seized the microphone: "—YOUR SMILE COULD DEFROST ANTARCTICA!"
Chaos detonated. Scott's yelp, Bryce's "She's narcoleptic, sir!", and the thud of Blackwood's disciplinary paddle collided in sonic pandemonium, echoing through every classroom.
Dean Blackwood: (Dragging Vivian by collar) "Solitary confinement! Until graduation!"
Vivian: (Wincing) "My trust fund pays your salary!"
Blackwood: "It also paid the chapel's new soundproofing! Test it with me!"
Bryce: (Chasing them) "Sir! Her dopamine levels are clinically deficient!"
Scott: "Critical condition! Requires emergency sugar infusion!"
Sixty minutes later, Vivian escaped the Tribunal.
Blackwood: (Massaging temples) "Vanish before I revive medieval stocks."
Vivian: (Saluting) "Prioritize breakfast, Dean! Low blood sugar breeds tyranny!"
Blackwood: (Slammed door) "OUT!"
Fourth period: English Literature. Veridian House simmered with tension. Ms. Echidna—Eldenwood's most feared instructor—ruled through toxic polarity. Her pedagogy: eviscerate confident girls while indulging charming rebels.
She entered as the bell tolled, Diane von Fürstenberg wrap dress hugging curves that defied her thirty-five years. Her gaze—honeyed arsenic—landed on Vivian, who'd just snapped: "Jesus, Bryce! You multiply like a gremlin in rain!"
Ms. Echidna: "A theatrical review of my curriculum, Miss Vaughn?"
The room froze. Naomi Ricci white-knuckled her anthology. Wendy Chen stifled a gasp.
Vivian conjured saccharine remorse. "My apologies, Ms. E. Bryce's cologne violated chemical warfare treaties."
A beat. Two.
Ms. Echidna: (Smile glacial as Adrian's glare) "How... diplomatic. Sit."
As students chorused gratitude, Anastasia Volkov—Veridian's dethroned beauty queen—scrawled on Naomi's notepad: "She only bows to Sterling blood."
Scott: (Kicking Vivian's chair) "Echidna's planning your academic execution."
Vivian: (Flipping pages) "Joke's on her. I don't do report cards."
Naomi: (Passing note) "Anya says: Vaughn audacity = Kevlar armor."
Vivian: (Scrawling reply) "Anya's envy = discount knockoff."
Ms. Echidna's stilettos clicked toward the legacy bloc.
Ms. Echidna: "Dylan! Your analysis of Milton's Paradise Lost?"
Dylan: (Languid posture) "Satan: first anti-establishment rockstar?"
Ms. Echidna: (Giggling) "Deliciously subversive! Elaborate!"
Anya's mechanical pencil snapped.
Vivian observed the metamorphosis: Ms. Echidna's spine softened, her laugh pitched higher, fingers brushing Dylan's shoulder as he quipped about "Hell's startup culture." Anastasia Volkov's envy crystallized into palpable frost.
Hierarchy unchallenged, Vivian mused. Legacy boys > new-money girls > scholarship cases > faculty.
Dylan caught her eye, winking. Your shield, the gesture said. His weapon.
Ms. Echidna followed his gaze. Her smile hardened. "Miss Vaughn! Since Milton's allegory escapes you..." She gestured to the board. "Diagram this: 'Adrian Stone's apathy remains Vaughn's most insoluble equation.'"
Laughter erupted. Anya's smirk was scalpel-sharp.
Vivian rose. Chalk snapped in her fist.
Let's play, Echidna.
Ms. Echidna: "Subject clause?"
Vivian: (Writing) "Apathy—Stone's native language."
Ms. Echidna: "Adverbial modifier?"
Vivian: (Underlining insoluble) "Duration: perpetual."
Bryce: (Stage-whisper) "Direct object: Vivian's dignity!"
Scott: "Predicate: evaporating!"
Ms. Echidna rapped Scott's desk with her steel ruler. "Detention! For linguistic creativity!"
The bell tolled salvation.
Ms. Echidna: (To Vivian) "My office. Now."
Vivian: (Slinging backpack) "Prior engagement. Cobra's expecting me."
Ms. Echidna: "Volkov isn't—"
Vivian: "Not Kane. The actual cobra. In your locked specimen cabinet."
She left Ms. Echidna staring at her trembling hands.