The air in the empty classroom felt heavy with the weight of Caspian’s confession. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.
*Priya: This is our chance. He’s compromised, but he wants out. We can use this. Blaze, let me handle the talking *
Priya took the helm, her calm presence steadying the frantic energy whirring within our shared mind. “What kind of trap?” I asked, my voice cool and even, projecting a confidence that was a carefully constructed facade.
“Her ballet shoes,” Caspian explained, the words rushing out in a torrent of guilt and fear. “She’s going to claim you stole them and filled them with thumbtacks right before her solo. She has another student, a desperate girl from F–Track whose family owes Julian money, ready to plant them in your bag. And me… I’m supposed to be the ‘credible witness‘ who steps forward and confirms he saw you do it.”
11:47 PM P P
A cold, calculated fury settled over us. Lilith wasn’t just cruel; she was meticulous. A predator who enjoyed playing with her food.
“She wants to have you expelled, Caspian finished, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “She wants to paint you as a violent, deranged outcast so your parents will finally give up on you and send you away to that… clinic.”
“And you,” I stated, my voice softening slightly, “are going to help us turn this trap back on her.” It wasn’t a question; it was an offer of alliance.
A flicker of hope ignited in Caspian’s tired eyes. “How?”
“You’re going to do exactly what she says,” I explained, a plan already forming, refined by thirty different perspectives. “You will be the credible witness. But you and I both know that credibility is all about who controls the narrative.”
The night before the Arts Festival, Caspian and I met in the darkened school library. He had managed to get a copy of the key to the main office from a janitor he’d befriended. Our mission: to retrieve the footage from the hallway security camera that Lilith and her stooge didn’t know he had already “fixed“,
The festival arrived. Everything happened just as Caspian had described. A tear–stricken Lilith burst into our classroom, a whirlwind of manufactured drama, followed by a stern–faced Mrs. Fairchild.
“Sister, why did you steal my ballet shoes?” Lilith sobbed, her performance worthy of an Oscar.
She snatched our backpack and emptied its contents onto the desk. Among the books and pens lay the pair of pink ballet shoes, studded with gleaming thumbtacks.
Mrs. Fairchild’s face was dark with anger. “Rowan, how could you be so vicious? We already have a witness who saw you take the shoes.”
“Who?” I asked, feigning confusion.
To everyone’s surprise, Caspian stepped out from the crowd, his face a mask of reluctance. I saw her,” he said, his voice clear and steady, loud enough for everyone to hear.
The onlookers erupted in whispers. “Aren’t they friends?” “So manipulative…”
Just as Lilith’s face bloomed with a triumphant, venomous smile, the Dean of Students, Mr. Albright, pushed through the crowd, his expression grim.
“Mrs. Fairchild, before you jump to any conclusions, I suggest you take a look at this,” he said, holding up a tablet. ‘Caspian Ingram brought this to my attention this morning.”
He played a video. The footage was crystal clear. It showed the F–Track girl sneaking over to my desk, stuffing the ballet shoes into my backpack, and then scurrying away. Then, it cut to a different camera angle, showing Lilith meeting the same girl in the hallway moments later, slipping her a thick envelope of cash.
