The Art Of Secrets

Morning came slow and cruel, like a slap.

We hadn't slept. Not really. Just sat in that room, questioned until our mouths were dry, our thoughts brittle. When we were finally dismissed, none of us spoke as we climbed the stairs back to the dorms. It felt like the air had shifted — heavier, harder to breathe.

Now, just hours later, we were back in our uniforms, walking through the main courtyard like nothing had happened.

The sun was too bright.

Everything felt wrong. Like the school was pretending not to notice that someone had died right in the middle of it. There were still smudges of dried mud near the old staircase. A piece of yellow police tape flapped from the edge of the common room door.

And still… the whispers had already started.

I could feel them crawling up my back. Hushed voices, glances, people pulling their friends aside to say, did you hear? And they found her and it was them. I swear it was them.

I kept my head high. We all did. That was the unspoken rule of our group: don't flinch.

Except Olivia. She clung to Violet like a lifeline, her face pale, her eyes puffy from crying. Maddie walked ahead of us, jaw clenched, her sunglasses doing a terrible job of hiding how red her eyes were. Eva, perfect as always, was unreadable. Her blazer was neatly pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

And then there was me — trying not to fall apart.

"Holy hell," someone muttered as we passed. "They're here."

"Shouldn't they be… suspended or something?"

"They look like they just walked out of a funeral."

"Maybe they did."

We kept walking. Until a voice rang out, too loud, too deliberate:

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the murder mafia."

We turned in unison.

Bianca Laurent was lounging on the stone bench near the fountain, legs crossed like she was posing for a tabloid, her phone already filming us. She looked like a doll — glossy hair in two space buns, pink leather gloves, and lip gloss that shimmered in the sunlight. Her nails were rhinestoned. Her smile was venom.

Maddie was on her before I could blink.

"Delete that. Now."

Bianca looked amused. "Relax, Parker. I'm just capturing a moment in history. You know, for posterity."

"We're not in the mood," Eva said quietly. Her voice didn't shake. Not like mine would have.

Bianca tapped her phone screen once, letting it fall to her side. "Fine. But you're trending, you know. 'Orion's Secret Four.'" She smiled wider. "Catchy, right? Someone even made a logo."

"You're disgusting," Violet said.

"And your suspects," Bianca replied sweetly. "So I guess we all have our roles to play."

Olivia flinched.

I stepped in front of her. "Bianca, I swear to god—"

"Easy," another voice cut in, lazy and drawling. "Let's not start a brawl before breakfast."

Damien Lancaster appeared like smoke. All shadows and sharp cheekbones, with a perpetual smirk that didn't quite reach his eyes. His tie was half-off, and his satchel was slung across his chest like he'd just woken up and remembered school was still a thing.

He looked us over with faint amusement.

"Damn," he said. "You guys look like crap."

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Hey, I'm just being honest." He turned to Bianca. "You antagonizing the trauma victims again?"

"I'm reporting," she said, as if that excused anything. "The people want answers."

"Pretty sure the people want blood," Damien said. "You just want likes."

Bianca shrugged. "Same difference."

Maddie took a step forward. "Say that again and I swear I'll—"

"Mad." My voice was quiet, but she stopped. Her hands were shaking. She jammed them in her pockets.

Bianca looked us over like she was trying to see through our skin. "So. Rumor has it Rose had a little… collection. Notes, screenshots, voicemails. Insurance. For fun or for blackmail, who knows?"

Violet stiffened. "Where did you hear that?"

"Please." Bianca rolled her eyes. "I am the rumor."

"And if it's true?" I asked.

She smiled. "Then someone took it."

"Who?" Olivia asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Bianca tilted her head. "That's the fun part, isn't it?"

Damien leaned against the fountain. "I think it's gone. Wiped. Burned. Poof."

"Or," Bianca said lightly, "someone has it. And they're just waiting to use it."

The words hit like ice water.

We all looked at each other.

She's right. If Rose had dirt — real dirt — and it's missing…

We're not just being blamed.

We're being hunted.

Later. Girls' Dorm, Room 214

We sat in silence. No one touched the tea Violet made. Maddie was pacing. Eva was on the windowsill, arms folded. Olivia sat curled in a blanket. I leaned against the wall, feeling like I hadn't taken a real breath in hours.

"She had a folder?" Olivia finally whispered.

"Yeah," Maddie said. "Of course she did."

"She had stuff on everyone," Eva said. "Teachers. Parents. Cops."

"She had something on me," Violet admitted quietly. "She never said what. But she used it."

Maddie stopped pacing. "Same."

I looked up. "She blackmailed all of us?"

"No," Eva said. "She just… knew things. And she made sure we knew that she knew."

We sat with that for a while.

Then Maddie said, "If someone took that phone, they're not going to keep quiet."

"They'll start leaking," I said.

"Unless they're the killer," Violet whispered.

And that shut everyone up.