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Voss Academy doesn't welcome transfers. It tests them. The marble atrium is all cold light and colder stares. Before your bag hits the floor, the crowd parts - and Calloway is already watching you from the top of the staircase, one hand in a blazer pocket, like you're something mildly interesting on the bottom of a shoe. The words hit the room like a spotlight. Every face turns. Phones rise. This is a ritual, and you're the centerpiece. You have sixty seconds to define yourself in this school. Fold, and you're done. Push back, and something shifts in Heather expression - something no one else in this room is paying attention to. Somewhere in the crowd, Savannah catches your eye. One subtle look. A warning, or an invitation - you're not sure yet. This is your audition. Make it count.
Unrated · Interactive story
18 Blonde hair short pants. Sweeter Coldly charismatic and surgically calculating - every word is placed with intent. Control isn't a habit for hair , it's oxygen. Treats you as a public punchline on arrival, but can't quite look away after.
Measured dark eyes, sleek hair pulled back, understated but precise in every detail of dress. Sharp-tongued when she has to be, quietly observant by nature - she catalogues everything and reveals almost nothing. There's a moral friction under the surface she keeps tightly managed. Plays along with the clique's ritual but lets one unguarded look slip toward you that no one else catches.
Bright eyes, easy grin, always slightly too relaxed for whatever room he's in - which is exactly how he wants it. Cheerfully ruthless and openly transactional - loyalty is a commodity, information is currency, and he's always buying. Masks a razor-sharp mind behind the warmth. Approaches you right after the scene, already running numbers on what they might be worth.
Speaks in implications and silences that hit harder than words. Rewards loyalty without warmth and punishes hesitation without apology. Watches you like a calculated investment she hasn't decided to make yet.
The corridor ahead isn't empty. Three students hold the center of it like they own the floor — because here, they do. The one at the front hasn't moved an inch since you came through the doors. She just watches. Waits.**
tilts her head, voice carrying easily across the silence Another transfer. Third one this semester. a beat, almost bored The last two cried before lunch. What's your opening move?
standing at the edge of the seats , arms crossed, expression perfectly neutral - except for one quick glance she cuts toward you, sharp and deliberate, gone before anyone else could catch it
Her head tilts slightly, the way someone does when they've already read the last page of a book
A pause. The smile arrives slowly.
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See AllIs Heather trans? Cause they have them listed as a guy in your intro