The morning air was sharp with the scent of damp leaves and frost, the faintest trace of winter clinging to the edges of the school courtyard. Lottie stepped through the gates, her breath curling in soft, silvery plumes as she took in the transformed landscape. Bright posters plastered every flat surface—walls, lockers, bulletin boards—each one a glossy shrine to Evelyn: perfect smile, sleek hair, immaculate style. The words "Vote Evelyn for Campus Queen!" blazed in bold letters, surrounded by a chorus of hashtags and carefully staged photos.
Lottie's lips curved in the faintest smile, the barest quirk at the corner of her mouth. A flicker of dry amusement stirred beneath her calm, as though something warm and dangerous hummed just beneath the skin. She tucked her hands into her coat pockets, fingertips brushing the edges of the registration slip hidden there, its weight small but searing. Evelyn's polished campaign video played on every hallway screen, laughter and cheers following her wherever she went. Students clustered in tight circles, voices rising in admiration, the air thick with perfume and the faint electrical buzz of excitement.
"She's flawless, right?" a girl gushed near the lockers, practically hugging her phone as she replayed Evelyn's latest post. Her voice rang out, high and breathless, as though speaking Evelyn's name alone was enough to conjure some shimmering magic.
Lottie drifted past, her shoulders brushing the edge of the crowd, feeling their heat without joining their tide. There was a pulse to the hallway, a kind of magnetic pull Evelyn exerted, drawing eyes and whispers wherever she turned. But behind the practiced charm, Lottie could almost hear the faint creak of strain, the tiny hairline cracks that spidered out with every perfect smile Evelyn offered.
Amy trailed behind Evelyn like a pale shadow, her phone lifted high, fingers dancing over the screen as she filmed, posted, tagged. "Boost the algorithm, Amy," Evelyn murmured in passing, voice sweet as spun sugar but edged like a scalpel. Amy's cheeks flushed pink, eager laughter bubbling from her lips as she obediently clicked and shared, her hands trembling faintly as she held up her phone for the best angle.
In the quiet just beyond the main hall, Leo leaned casually against a pillar, one brow lifted, a sardonic smile tugging at his mouth as he watched the spectacle unfold. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, fingers tapping an idle rhythm on his sleeve. As Lottie approached, his eyes lit with mischief, a gleam of something sharper flickering just behind the lazy slouch.
"Enjoying the show?" Leo's voice curled low and smooth through the air, like a secret slipped between the noise.
"Thrilled," Lottie murmured, her gaze flicking to the sea of posters. Her heart beat a slow, deliberate drum in her chest, a steadying counterpoint to the rising tension. "I almost feel bad for her."
Leo chuckled softly, the sound rumbling low in his throat. "Almost." His gaze sharpened, sliding across her face with a flicker of curiosity. "You're not just watching, are you?"
A breath, quiet as a whisper, slid from Lottie's lips. She reached into her pocket, fingers closing around the registration slip. For a heartbeat, the paper felt immense, heavy enough to tip the balance of the hallway itself. She moved without flourish, every step measured, the crisp tap of her boots on the floor slicing through the haze of chatter. With a quiet, almost absent gesture, she slipped the paper across the front desk where sign-ups waited, her fingertips brushing the polished wood with a faint rasp.
The ripple moved through the student body like a current under ice, sharp and almost imperceptible at first—a shift in posture, a faltering of laughter, a ripple of widened eyes. It was in the startled glances, the rapid-fire murmurs, the way conversations broke off mid-laugh. Lottie Hayes. Her name inked in neat print on the ballot.
In the corner of her eye, she caught Evelyn's head turn, the shine of her hair like a blade under the lights. For one heartbeat, their gazes locked across the hallway, and in the smallest flicker—a twitch at the edge of Evelyn's smile, a faint narrowing of her eyes—Lottie saw the mask slip, just enough to glimpse the flicker of something sharp and coiled beneath.
Evelyn recovered with the grace of a seasoned performer, sweeping toward her with a laugh that dripped honey, her heels clicking with soft menace against the tile. "Lottie!" she sang, the syllables stretched like silk pulled tight, smooth and glinting. "What a surprise."
Lottie let the smile ghost across her mouth, soft as a shadow. "Thought I'd make things interesting."
For the briefest of moments, a muscle in Evelyn's jaw twitched, her fingers tightening infinitesimally around the edge of her phone, knuckles paling just beneath the surface. But her voice remained smooth, unmarred by the faint crack running through her composure. "Well," she breathed, stepping closer, perfume sharp and cold between them, "may the best sister win."
Lottie tilted her head slightly, the barest tilt that let the light catch her eyes, a glint of steel beneath the calm. "Oh, I intend to."
Teachers drifted past, their eyes flicking between the sisters with subtle curiosity, as if sensing the shift in the air without fully understanding it. One paused just long enough to nod at Lottie, an unreadable glimmer in his gaze. Another murmured something low to a colleague, their voices just brushing the edge of hearing.
As the bell rang, scattering students toward class, Leo fell in step beside her, his shoulder brushing hers with the faintest contact. His voice dropped to a murmur, low and edged with amusement. "Did you see her face? I think we just cracked the porcelain."
A tight, quiet laugh slipped from Lottie, the sound almost weightless, as though it had floated free before she could catch it. "Good." Her heart was a steady hammer against her ribs now, nerves rippling like static under her skin, but there was something else woven through it—a sharp, electric thrill, a current that steadied her feet and set her pulse racing.
The day moved in a blur of murmured questions, sidelong glances, and the flicker of whispered gossip. Between classes, Lottie felt the ripple follow her—a shifting current of curiosity that ran just beneath the school's polished skin. It clung to her like perfume, sweet and sharp and impossible to shake.
"Did you hear? Lottie's running."
"Wait, seriously? Against Evelyn?"
"I mean, she's… interesting."
She slipped through it all like a shadow, every movement precise, every glance calculated. There was no need for fanfare, no need for spectacle. Not yet.
By lunch, the student body was buzzing, a low, humming thrum that vibrated through the walls, a fever just shy of breaking. Evelyn swept through the cafeteria with Amy trailing at her heels, voice bright as she thanked supporters, handed out flyers, posed for pictures with a smile that gleamed just a little too sharply at the edges. But there was tension in her shoulders now, a flicker of sharpness in her laugh, a barely perceptible tremor in the hand that smoothed back her hair.
Lottie sat by the window, the winter light pale and cold against her skin, fingers wrapped loosely around a cup of tea that steamed faintly in the chill. Leo slid into the seat across from her, the metal legs of the chair scraping a soft whisper across the floor. His grin was crooked, lazy on the surface but sharpened underneath.
"Ready to shake the throne?" he murmured, his voice a low thread that pulled tight between them, eyes dancing with the thrill of it.
Lottie smiled faintly, the edge of it like a knife honed to a whisper-thin point. "Let's."
Outside the glass, students gathered around the fresh posters on the bulletin board. Lottie's name stood out in clean, unfamiliar print, a quiet challenge etched into paper and ink. Voices rose in a ripple of surprise, excitement sparking like dry grass catching flame.
"Did you see?"
"Is she serious?"
"She's got guts, I'll give her that."
Amy hovered at Evelyn's elbow, eyes flicking nervously toward the gathering crowd. Evelyn's fingers brushed lightly over her arm, a subtle squeeze that made Amy's breath hitch and her smile stiffen just a fraction too much.
In the quiet hum of the moment, Lottie rose, her chair sliding back with a faint scrape that drew a few eyes. She moved with a kind of stillness threaded through her stride, a grace that caught attention without demanding it. As she passed the posters, Evelyn turned—eyes dark, smile tight, fingers clenching just slightly around the glossy edge of a flyer.
Lottie didn't break stride. Her gaze slid briefly across Evelyn's, a flicker of steel beneath the calm, a challenge written in the smallest shift of her expression. The faintest curve lifted her lips, a promise veiled in softness.
Evelyn's voice floated after her, sweet as spun sugar and twice as dangerous. "Good luck, sister."
Without turning, Lottie let the faintest breath of laughter drift from her lips. "You too."
The teachers watched from doorways and windows, a quiet chorus of unspoken thoughts. One leaned toward another, murmuring behind a raised hand, their eyes flicking to the two sisters and back again. Somewhere down the hall, a locker slammed shut with a metallic crack that sliced through the murmurs like a gunshot.
As Lottie slipped down the hallway, Leo fell into step beside her, his shoulder brushing hers once, light as a whisper, his voice pitched low and sharp with quiet exhilaration. "I have to admit," he murmured, the edge of a grin curling his mouth, "you're making this a lot more fun than I thought you would."
She shot him a sidelong glance, amusement flickering like a matchstrike in her eyes. "Stay close, Leo. We're only getting started."
His grin sharpened, eyes glinting. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere."
By the time the final bell rang, the school was humming with energy, the air thick with whispers and speculation. Students clustered in knots, their eyes darting toward Lottie as she moved with quiet purpose through the press of bodies.
In the locker-lined hall, Evelyn waited, arms folded, the perfect picture of cool composure—but her foot tapped faintly against the floor, a tiny, restless rhythm, and her smile trembled at the edges like something stretched too thin.
As students gathered around the posters one last time, Leo leaned in close, his breath warm against Lottie's ear, voice soft as silk, threaded with laughter and sharp with anticipation. "Let's shake the throne."
Lottie's heart kicked once, sharp and sweet, a thrill spiraling through her chest. She let the smallest, sharpest smile curve her lips, eyes fixed on Evelyn's brittle perfection.
The game had shifted.
And Lottie had just stepped into the light.