The academy ballroom had been transformed into something out of a fairy tale, all crystal chandeliers and silk draping that probably cost more than most people’s annual salaries. Students moved through the space like elegant predators, their designer gowns and perfectly tailored tuxedos creating a sea of calculated beauty. The charity gala was supposed to be the highlight of our fundraising week, but the air hummed with the kind of tension that made my skin crawl.
I smoothed down my borrowed dress—another Roni creation in midnight blue that made me look like I actually belonged in this world—and tried to shake the feeling that everyone was watching me. Which they probably were, considering the committee drama from the past week had made us minor celebrities in Ashwick’s gossip ecosystem.
