The mood had shifted.
Hazel and Isabella had broken a barrier on the rooftop, but the following days weren’t filled with dreamy walks or stolen glances. Instead, a new kind of tension gripped Spring High—whispers in hallways, glances that lasted too long, and students becoming unusually secretive.
It started with a missing phone.
No one cared until it was Noel’s—the class representative, perfect grades, perfect face, perfect secrets.
“I swear I left it on my desk before practice,” Noel barked, pacing the classroom as several students stood watching, arms folded and lips tight.
Hazel, sitting near the window, narrowed her eyes. Something about the situation didn’t sit right. Noel’s phone wasn’t just a phone—it held files, documents, voice notes. Rumors had it he kept recordings of meetings with the teachers... and private messages from someone high up in the school board.
Hazel leaned toward Isabella. “He’s hiding something.”
“Obviously,” Isabella whispered. “But we’re not the only ones who think so.”
Hazel followed Isabella’s gaze.
In the corner stood Maya, a former friend-turned-competitor ever since Hazel had won the creative writing contest the year before. Her eyes were locked onto Noel, but her smirk was unmistakably aimed at Hazel.
---
Later that night
Hazel sat on her bed, replaying the rooftop moment with Isabella in her mind, until her phone vibrated. A message from an unknown number:
> “You shouldn’t trust the people closest to you. They’re not who they pretend to be.”
She froze.
Another message came in immediately:
> “If you want the truth, come to the old drama room. Alone. 10 PM.”
Hazel stared at the screen, her heart pounding. The drama room had been locked since last term’s fire—an “accident” that had never been fully explained.
She had two choices: Ignore it… or chase the mystery.
At 9:55 PM, she slipped out of her dorm and into the night.