The moment Lottie stepped out of the exam hall, the chill of the corridor air slapped her skin, making her shiver despite the heat pounding through her veins. Her fingers curled reflexively at her sides, shaking faintly as adrenaline drained from her limbs. She clenched them into fists, nails biting into her palms, until the trembling steadied, the tiny crescent marks in her skin stinging just enough to remind her that she was still standing.
Around her, the buzz of post-exam chatter swelled, a rising wave of laughter, whispers, and ragged sighs of relief. But beneath that surface hum, Lottie could sense it—the ripples already spreading, the shift in atmosphere as heads turned, as eyes flicked her way like moths drawn to the unexpected flame.
"Did you hear?" a girl hissed near the lockers, the sharp edge of her voice slicing through the low hum. "She flew through it. Like, finished ten minutes early."
"No way," another whispered, the disbelief crackling like static in the air. "She's never been top of the class before."
Lottie's mouth curved, barely. A flicker of satisfaction warmed her chest, a brief pulse of heat that thawed the ice lodged in her ribs. But she smothered it swiftly. This wasn't the time to gloat, no matter how her skin buzzed with the dizzying rush of victory. Her heart thundered so loudly in her ears that it blurred the edges of the voices around her, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a cold glare across polished floors that only sharpened the surreal edge of the moment. She forced her shoulders back, spine straight, though her knees still trembled with the aftershock.
A flicker of gold passed at the edge of her vision. Evelyn.
Lottie turned just enough to catch her sister's figure gliding through the crowd, every inch the flawless queen. Evelyn's smile was sweetness itself, her laughter light as spun sugar, but Lottie caught the stiffness in her shoulders, the too-bright gleam in her eyes. And when Evelyn brushed past her, the murmur that slipped from perfectly painted lips barely reached Lottie's ears.
"Congratulations, Lottie," Evelyn murmured, voice dipped in honey but lined with steel. "I'm sure you gave it your best."
Lottie tilted her head, the edge of a cool smirk lifting her lips. "Oh, I did. I'm sure you noticed." Her voice was soft but laced with an undercurrent sharp enough to cut silk.
For a heartbeat, Evelyn's mask cracked—a flash of something sharp and brittle in her eyes. Her fingers, so delicately folded over her books, twitched as though clenching against an invisible tremor. Then it was gone, sealed under a luminous smile as she floated away, leaving Lottie in the echo of perfume and polished footsteps.
Lottie's chest tightened. She forced herself to breathe, slow and deep, willing her racing pulse to settle. Her fingers twitched at her sides, itching to wipe the sweat from her palms, but she resisted. She needed space, needed a moment to pull herself together before she shattered.
The bathroom door banged softly behind her. Cool porcelain, the harsh flicker of fluorescent lights, the faint tang of lemon-scented cleanser—Lottie gripped the sink edge, head bowed as she drew in shaking breaths. The metal was cold under her fingertips, grounding her as the storm inside slowly ebbed, leaving behind the raw, quivering ache of survival.
Her reflection stared back: flushed cheeks, wild eyes, damp hair clinging to her temples.
"I did it," she whispered, barely audible. The girl in the mirror almost didn't look like her—a stranger trembling on the edge of triumph and collapse. Her voice cracked, the words tasting like copper on her tongue, raw and unfamiliar.
She splashed cold water on her face, the sting shocking her nerves awake. Water dripped from her chin as she met her own gaze again. This time, her eyes were steady, glinting with something hard and bright that hadn't been there before. She dabbed her skin with a coarse paper towel, the roughness scraping across her cheeks, grounding her to the present, to the moment she had seized with trembling hands.
The memory of the rooftop fall flashed—Evelyn's hand on her back, the rushing air, the sickening plunge into darkness. Her stomach twisted, a bolt of nausea tightening her throat. She gripped the edge of the sink tighter, knuckles blanching white as the image burned behind her eyes.
Never again.
A knock on the bathroom door startled her, a sharp rap that jolted through the thin walls.
"Lottie?" Amy's hesitant voice floated through, thin and worried. "Are you okay?"
Lottie inhaled, squared her shoulders, and wiped her face dry with a paper towel. The paper crinkled under her fingers, cool and damp, and she crumpled it in her fist before tossing it into the bin.
"I'm fine," she called, voice light, easy, smoother than she felt. "Be out in a sec."
Outside, Amy's worried gaze met her as soon as she stepped into the hallway. Her friend's brows were furrowed, fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag, the faintest sheen of sweat on her temple betraying her anxious wait.
"You disappeared so fast—I was worried," Amy murmured, her voice a little too high, the edges frayed with tension.
Lottie smiled gently, placing a hand briefly on Amy's arm. The warmth of skin-to-skin contact was grounding, a tether to the present. "Don't be. Just needed a moment." Her fingers squeezed, just slightly, a silent reassurance she couldn't yet give voice to.
Amy nodded quickly, but her eyes darted toward the end of the corridor, where the crowd swirled like a living current. The voices had shifted, sharp and hungry, like sharks circling scent.
Behind Amy, the crowd ebbed and flowed like a living tide, students peeling off into clusters, laughter erupting in fits and bursts. But through it all, Lottie sensed it: Evelyn, watching.
She caught the faintest flicker of movement—Evelyn leaning against a locker, arms folded, chatting breezily with a circle of admirers. Her fingers toyed with a lock of golden hair, eyes crinkling in perfect mimicry of carefree laughter. But Lottie saw the edge, the too-tight grip on her notebook, the slight tension in her jaw, the way her gaze flicked toward Lottie with the precision of a predator tracking its prey.
The war wasn't over. It had barely begun.
Amy tugged at Lottie's sleeve, pulling her attention back. "Come on, everyone's going to the café to celebrate. Are you coming?"
Lottie's smile deepened, cool and measured, her pulse a steady thrum in her ears. "Not today. I've got some things to prepare."
Amy's face fell slightly, her shoulders drooping, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve. "Oh… okay. See you tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
As Amy melted into the crowd, Lottie's shoulders stiffened, her jaw setting. She turned, footsteps measured and soft against the tile floor. Her fingers brushed the edge of her skirt, tracing the hidden edge of the phone tucked into her pocket, feeling the faint vibration of incoming notifications she ignored.
Every step, every glance, every word Evelyn spoke—it was all part of the game now. And Lottie intended to master it.
The low hum of conversation followed her down the hallway, but it blurred into a distant murmur. Her focus tunneled inward, locking onto a single thought. She felt the sharp chill of the air against her damp skin, the brush of a draft creeping under her collar, the soft slap of her shoes on the floor.
She wouldn't run. She wouldn't hide. Not anymore.
As she rounded the corner, a shadow shifted in her peripheral vision. Evelyn.
Their gazes met—sharp blue locking onto cool gold. Evelyn's mouth curved, a perfect, polite smile, her hands clasped loosely in front of her, but her knuckles were pale, the tendons taut beneath skin.
"You're full of surprises today, Lottie," Evelyn said softly as they passed each other, voice velvet-smooth with a trace of sharpened steel. Her breath was sweet, tinged with mint, the scent sharp in the narrow space between them.
Lottie paused, just the faintest hitch in her step, head turning just enough for her voice to drift back, silky and sure. "You have no idea." Her heart was a hammer against her ribs, each beat sharp and hot, but her voice stayed steady, the words slicing through the air like a blade hidden in silk.
A flicker crossed Evelyn's eyes—barely perceptible, but Lottie saw it. She always saw it now. The faint narrowing of eyelids, the subtle shift of weight from one foot to the other, the tightening of her grip on the edge of her books—all tiny tells, but together they formed a crack.
Without another word, Lottie walked on, head high, heart pounding like a drumbeat of defiance in her chest. Her breath came short and quick, chest tight with the effort to stay composed, every muscle in her body tense with the urge to either sprint or laugh.
From the shadows, Evelyn watched, fingers curling ever so slightly into fists, her mask cracking just enough to reveal the storm brewing underneath.
The hallway stretched before Lottie, the murmur of voices fading as she pressed forward. Each step felt like breaking through invisible webs, the tension clinging to her skin, making her hyperaware of every glance, every whisper, every shift in the air.
Her throat was dry, her hands clammy, but the corner of her mouth lifted as she moved through the thinning crowd. The weight on her shoulders lightened, not from safety, but from the intoxicating realization that—for once—she was ahead.
Behind her, she could almost feel Evelyn's gaze, a cold thread pulling taut between them, vibrating with unspoken threat. The scent of Evelyn's delicate perfume lingered faintly in the air, a ghost of presence that brushed the edge of Lottie's senses and made her skin prickle.
She turned a corner, pressing a palm briefly to the cool metal of a locker, grounding herself. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, loud and relentless, but underneath it, a strange exhilaration shimmered, sharp as glass, sweet as the first breath after drowning.
Her phone buzzed faintly against her thigh. She didn't need to check it—she knew Leo's subtle signals by now. A faint smile tugged at her lips, sharp with promise, a glimmer of anticipation cutting through the haze of exhaustion.
In the echoing silence of the corridor, Lottie let herself exhale, slow and deliberate, the tension unspooling just enough to keep her moving forward. Her fingers brushed lightly against the lockers as she passed, the cool bite of metal against her skin a small, steadying anchor.
Behind her, Evelyn's laughter rang out—a fraction too loud, a shade too brittle. And Lottie smiled, the fire in her veins blazing to life once more.