𝖍𝖆𝖇𝖎𝖙

Agata’s neck craned forward slightly when he first attempted to unlock the phone. The slight smirk on her face had been wiped off by his accusatory tone after his attempt had failed. Her face had scrunched into a scowl before she mimicked his sentences in childish response. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She quipped sarcastically and pouted at him. “It’s not like I stepped on your phone on purpose?” She pointed out before gesturing to the spot where she recovered his phone. “I didn’t just see the phone on the crowd and thought hmm look!” She gasped, acting surprised. “I found a lost phone! Best step on it before picking it up!” She demonstrated with an unsettling cheerful tone before her expression had fallen monotonous. She rolled her eyes and shook her head slightly in exasperation. Although she had always retaliated against the adversity that was shrouding her those past few weeks, that was the first confrontational interaction wherein the accuser insisted her culpability of the past event. 

With a heavy sigh, Agata gave the boy opposite of her a look of annoyance. “I don’t know why I even bother. No one ever believes me.” She muttered. “And I do believe I have a reason to suspect you. You lied to my face about looking for your phone.” She contended. “You can be an Arsonist and be the Academy’s photog. Even if you weren’t, one thing is for sure..” She trailed off and stepped towards the young man, bearing a look of suspicion. “You’re up to something tonight.” She finished before turning on her heels to leave. She took a few steps towards her objective - now the drinks and snacks table, instead of searching for Reese’s tent - before looking back at the photographer. “Oh and F-Y-I.” She began, with her chin jutted upwards again to assert her condescension. “I do read the school paper. I just don’t know who you are.” She asserted then left. Agata marched toward the beverages. Out of irritation, she didn’t even notice she was being handed a drink by a student she wasn’t well acquainted with. After thanking the leering boy for handing her a cup, she took a sip only to discover that someone had cunningly laced the juice with an absurd amount of hard liquor. She looked at the boy who served her with furrowed brows, immediately suspecting it was another Arsonist scheme to alcohol poison a few of their peers, or get the ball rolling for a wild night. She, however, chose not to confront the boy as she had enough confrontation for the night. Instead, she continued to drink and decided to make herself a Smore on the table. If the Arsonists didn’t spike the juice, everyone was bound to slyly drink their own poison anyway.

He scoffed at how childish she was being. Their whole exchange was becoming ridiculous to him at this point, and the fact that she was accusing him of being an Arsonist was absurd. It was almost offensive, really, and he had absolutely no idea why he felt that way. He didn’t have to prove his innocence to her, and yet, he couldn’t help it. “You sound really childish right now,” he pointed out. “Fine, fine, you didn’t purposefully step on my phone, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t step on it anyway. And I would think you would feel enough remorse over stepping on my phone to just apologize. Instead, here you are, pointing fingers at me.” He almost felt bad enough to drop the whole thing when she said nobody believed her, but Mason thought about how suspicious she was behaving. Really, who goes around warning people about the Arsonists? He didn’t know that much about Agata Almeida, but didn’t she have better things to do with her time that worry about some stupid group of troublemakers? He sighed and placed his phone back in his pocket, wanting to leave the conversation at that moment before she said another thing that made his head feel hot in annoyance. He opened his mouth to speak-- to tell her that she must have been living under a rock for not knowing who he is-- before she left without much preamble, and Mason only watched, vexed, as she disappeared in the crowd.

He spent the next half hour or so taking pictures for the paper, trying to get Agata Almeida out of his head. Mason hadn’t expected to be so irritated that evening, and if things had gone a completely different way, he would definitely have flirted with her. He thought she was pretty, and he’d heard her talk outside of the library once to know that she was smart, but obviously wildly unreasonable, judging by the exchange that took place between them. He swatted any thoughts of her like an annoying fly and focused instead on taking pictures, only stopping to congratulate Nate under his breath for a job well done, and celebrating by drinking some of the spiked punch. He wanted to take some more pictures before calling it a night and settling in a tent when he saw Agata once again, this time with the group of people in a tent who called out to him so they could have their picture taken. Annoyance began to bubble up in his chest, and, as he held the camera to his face to take photos, he said, “You should maybe step aside for this.” The words were directed at Agata, his lips forming a smirk. “You’ll just ruin the group picture if you’re in it anyway.”

With one foot stepping back, Agata intended to make a quick exit; however, the boy’s words prompted her to remain. Without much consideration to how rude he could perceive her to be, she let out a scoff and shook her head. Her eyelids shifted into narrowed slits upon his subtle accusation. For the past month, she had received nothing but backlash from an illicit occurrence she didn’t take part in. Although she can acknowledge that what she said just then to the boy before her was suspicious, she couldn’t help but think that his implication was a reverberation from the whole school knowing who got interrogated. “It was just a warning.” She said, mirroring his actions by folding her arms over her midsection. “From someone who’s fallen victim to them.” She added as an emphasis, her chin tipped upwards slightly. “Somehow they’ve managed to ruin my already tainted reputation by pinning the dinnertime massacre on me, and they did it right under my nose.” She clarified as an attempt to erase any suspicion he had on her. Sure, he was just one guy, but it helped to have at least a few people on her side.

Agata peered at his camera yet again before finally addressing it. “I could accuse you of being an Arsonist!” She mentioned, indicating at his camera. “I mean, what are you even doing standing back here with a camera, hmmm?” She interrogated, jutting her bottom lip out slightly. “Capturing the moments of your next attack? Taking unsolicited candid pictures of students? Hmmm?” She added as one corner of her lips lifted into a knowing smirk. “And don’t say you’ve been looking for your phone, you were just standing there when I saw you.” She said with a hint of a humourless chuckle. If she hadn’t been so vexed about having fingers pointed at her, she would have already left the guy alone, after all, he honestly just looked like he was minding his own business. His last words started something inside her though, a frustration that has been waiting to be sparked throughout All Hallow’s Fest. She knew someone would give her resentment for participating in the school event, it just so happens it was this boy she wasn’t acquainted with, at least not until that moment. “Prove to me that it’s actually your phone.” She urged, nodding towards his pocket and placing her hands on her hips. “Go on. Unlock it.” She demanded.

Mason couldn’t help but roll his eyes, echoing the scoff that escaped from Agata’s lips. “That’s what an Arsonist would say,” he said, looking at her pointedly. He didn’t know, of course, if she truly was an Arsonist, but even if he didn’t think about it all that much, the whole thing did smell fishy to him. She was interrogated, and now she was accusing him of being an Arsonist? Sounded like someone badly wanted to point fingers in a completely different direction, and not like Mason knew anything about law or the like, but wasn’t presenting a new suspect one way of defending a guilty party? Agata Almeida could be doing exactly that by pushing onto Mason that he was an Arsonist, when, in fact, he was not. He didn’t care enough about school conflict to do so, and he had much better things to do with his time than terrorize students. Well, he had plenty of ways to do that without the help of a stupid group. “Oh, psh, cry me a river,” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive manner before placing it once again across his chest. “Maybe your reputation is ruined because you’re one of them. Just not as good as the others at hiding it, I bet.”

A long, exasperated sigh left his lips as she mentioned the camera, finding it ridiculous that she was using that as an excuse to pin the blame on him. “I knew I was right when I told Camille to write my name in big fat bold letters on the credits,” He threw his hand up incredulously, shaking his head as he thought again of how badly he argued with Camille over that, only to get vetoed by her. “It’s obvious you don’t read the school paper, because if you did, you would find that I’m it’s current official photographer.” Against his will, but he didn’t bother to say that to her. “Which means I’m here on official business, to take coverage of the event. See, your reason for blaming me is baseless and wrong, but mine isn’t-- you were interrogated after all.” His tone held a challenge, and he jutted his chin as he looked at her. Even though he should have just left the conversation right there, there was a part of Mason that wanted to prove her wrong. He fished his phone from his pocket and held it between them, placing his thumb over the finger scanner to unlock it. “It’s mine, alright,” he said, but his brows furrowed as the scanner denied his finger. “It’s probably because you stepped on it.” His tone was accusatory, and he tried to use the pin this time to unlock it-- and he did, successfully. “See?! It’s my phone.”

As the boy turned to reveal himself, Agata’s gaze fell upon the camera in his grasp though she didn’t allow her attention to linger there for more than two seconds. She brought her eyes back up to meet his when he responded to her question. He looked surprised as one would expect, but to her, not the type of surprised expression as a person who had lost something and had it returned to them by a stranger. If she wasn’t already scheduled to meet with a couple of friends, she would have bothered to do a bit of investigating. There was still a group of students on the loose who had put her spot in Astor in jeopardy, and she couldn’t just let them get away with it. To say that the young man before her was part of the Arsonists would be a stretch; but then again, if he truly was looking for his valuable for half an hour, he wouldn’t just be standing in one spot. “Oh, were you?” She asked rhetorically with a knowing smile when he took the phone from her. 

Her forehead scrunched upon hearing his offer. It was hard for Agata to avoid jumping into conclusions when people, especially of-the-male-species did that. The only way she could allow herself to react in her own accordance was to know the person’s true intentions. Did he really just want to thank her? Was this a way of hitting on her? Maybe he was just lonely hence he was standing there for quite some time? Either way, she needed to respond quickly before he would think that there was something off about her. “Nah, it’s cool!” She said, waving a hand in the air. “I stepped on your phone anyway so no need to thank me. I am sorry though.” She apologised before pointing towards the bonfire with a thumb. “I’m gonna get going. You should really keep your phone safe. Someone might steal it and hack it.” She murmured. “You’ll never know with the Arsonists on the loose.” She added, her eyes flickering towards the camera again.

How badly Mason wanted to look over his shoulder to check if his friend had done their task successfully, and he tried to-- he did-- but he figured he couldn’t do so properly without raising the suspicion of the girl in front of him. He could just tell her he was looking for a friend, but Mason worried looking that way would cause her to look that way, and all their careful planning and sneaking would all have been for nothing. He decided he should just simply trust Nate to do the job without botching it and since, from where he stood, he couldn’t hear any other commotion coming from that area, he assumed things had gone off without a hitch. “Yes. Yes, I was, and you’re a lifesaver,” he said, clutching the phone tightly to his chest as if it was a lifeline. Sure, he was attached to his phone like any other, but the thought that he hadn’t even realized he’d dropped it brought an amused smile to his lips. The tone of her question, however, did make Mason’s eyebrow quirk, and he wondered now if she’d actually seen anything. But as their conversation went a completely different way, he relaxed, and concluded that he and Nate were safe. From Agata Almeida, at least.

“You stepped on it?” His surprise was evident in his features, and Mason turned the phone in his hands to check for damage. He visibly sighed in relief when there was none-- just some mud here and there, but nothing the sleeve of the jacket he was wearing couldn’t fix-- and met Agata’s gaze once again. “The Arsonists, you say?” Her words momentarily distracted Mason from thinking about their ‘spike the punch’ adventure, and he touched his chin thoughtfully as he regarded her. He thought it was suspicious that she would say such a thing, and he wondered if that was just a general warning, or a threat. Not that he cared so much about the Arsonists-- the identities of those people only piqued his curiosity in the slightest, and as long as he wasn’t directly greatly affected by them, he couldn’t care less. Still, was Agata Almeida an Arsonist? Wasn’t she one of the people called for interrogation after the evening of what should have been the dinner party? “It’s interesting you would say that,” he commented, placing his phone in his pocket before crossing his arms against his chest. “One would think you’re saying that because you know when they’ll strike or something.”

Date: 26th of October, Saturday

Time: 8 PM

Location: camping grounds

Availability: @yoonmason​

You dropped something

If it weren’t for the Kensingtons’ compelling rebuttal to Agata’s statement of absence for the year’s Halloween fest, the lawyer-to-be would have been holed-up in her dorm, avoiding all social interaction to study instead. It wasn’t that Agata was trying to be an overall misanthropic person - after all, she had a network to broaden - however, the past event had proven her that the grounds of Astor had become a battle plain between the mysterious gang called Arsonists and the higher powers. No one was safe, especially her - an accused nonconformist. For the sake of her studies, since she longed to graduate, proceed to law school and become one of the most influential lawyers and female leaders in the industry, Agata wanted to hide. She was, however, convinced by her peers that she couldn’t let Halloween Fest go by without participating. It turned out that unwanted attention from the student body, and a heated interrogation by Arthur Astor wasn’t enough to defeat the need to live her best life in college.

As she neared the source of the heat during that chilly Autumn night, Agata clung to her baggy windbreaker. She was about to make a straight beeline to the roaring bonfire ahead when she felt that the sole of her sneaker land on a solid item. She quickly lifted her foot and bent down to check. Upon closer inspection, she discovered that someone had lost their phone. “Oh!” She exclaimed and picked it up. She wiped it against the material of her jeans and monitored the area for the owner. The closest person to her was a male student who had his back turned to her. He didn’t seem to have lost anything in her point-of-view, but despite the uncertainty, Agata approached him from behind and tapped his shoulder to catch his attention. “Is this yours?” She asked with brows slightly raised in wonder. She held the phone out to him and waited for a response.

It was a tragedy, if you asked Mason Yoon, that he was at Camp Night not for the purpose of enjoying the event, but to be it’s official photographer. It was as if he was the only photography student in the whole Academy, with how the editor-in-chief of the school paper was assigning him to every event, and it was unfortunate that he wasn’t in the place to say no. His love for soccer trumped his annoyance for the task and, even if he couldn’t spend the rest of the evening drinking and enjoying himself in one of the tents, that didn’t mean he was going to deprive the rest of the student body of it. No, of course not. He couldn’t even hide his disgust when he found out they were serving juice instead of something stronger-- more fun-- and decided, along with his best friend Nate Ridley, that they should be taking matters in their own hands. They couldn’t do a disservice to the student body by letting them drink juice, after all. 

Mason scanned his surroundings, camera poised against his chest, ready to give anyone the excuse that he was taking photos if they ever asked, and that he wasn’t standing guard for his buddy who was nearing the table of the beverages. Nate’s eyes asked met his, asking for a sign, and right after Mason nodded his head-- signaling him that no one was watching--, he saw the flash of silver that was the flask in Nate’s hand that carried the alcohol, and just as he was about to pour the liquid into the container that held the juice, Mason heard a voice behind him, causing him to tear his attention away from Nate and towards the other person, hoping the voice belonged to a student, and not any of the staff. He found his gaze landing on Agata Almeida-- a girl he didn’t know personally, but had seen a couple of times around campus. He didn’t know whether or not she saw what Nate was doing and Mason figured that the best thing to do was to act normal. He regarded the phone in her hand, and visibly exhaled in relief. “Yes! Thank you for finding it and handing it back to me! I’ve been looking for it for over thirty minutes.” It was a lie; he hadn’t even noticed he’d dropped his phone. Mason flashed a grateful smile towards the other, however, and took the phone in his hands. “Let me show you my thanks. Can I get you something to drink?”

Kellan laughed at Mason’s comment, nodding his head in agreement. “We’regiving everyone else the option to miss my pretty face for next week’s paper, babe,” he countered, using his favoritepetname for the other. “I’m capable of being generous.” A rhetorical joke, he’sin good company (yes, even Mason, believe it or not). Hearing Mason’s remarksand how he’s seemingly taxed on the job,Kellan inwardly felt for him. “I will never ever deliberately miss and hit anyof your vital organs, man. You’re not that special,” he added with a chuckle.

“It’s also illegal, Kellan,” Tristan commented, amused while Danny laughedin agreement.

“Suddenly, I can’t hear,” Kellan replied, pointing at his ear. Let it beknown, of course, that it’s all good fun. Unless…? He did step to theside, comparing an array of arrows while Mason’s taking pictures of Danny. “You’regetting some credit for the pictures, right?” Kellan asked, pressing his indexfinger on the tip of a carbon fiber arrow. “Camille hounded you, didn’t she?”

Mason rolled his eyes, snorting at the other’s comment. He was used to Kellan’s pomp, and if he was being honest, it was too similar to his own. But that didn’t mean he was about to give him the satisfaction of agreeing. ‘Course not. That was not how their relationship was. Mason would say something that sounded like a compliment but really was an insult, and Kellan would retort with one of his own. That was how they maintained the equilibrium in their relationship. To others, it may have seemed like they hated each other, but to Mason, it was all just fun. He didn’t care enough about other people to hate them. “Is that so? I would think you would deliberately hit my organs if I’m not that special. Leaves me the impression that you might miss me when I’m gone.” He could hear his friends ooh-ing in the background.

His brows furrowed at the sudden change in his tone. “Are you concerned about my schoolwork?” Mason lifted his hand to his mouth in a mocking gasp, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “And if you really must know,” he let out an exasperated sigh, but it was all mostly for show. “Camille did hound me. When does Camille not hound anyone? I heard her hound Arthur Astor once, what’s new?”

Veronica clicked her tongue as soon as the words came out of his month. “I am not in need of your services Mason, I was being sociable,” she pursed her lips as she regarded the boy with some criticality. He wasn’t somebody who was usually on her radar but he was popular enough that Veronica had heard his name thrown around a couple of times. Something to do with playing ball she remembered vaguely. Not one for sports, she hoped he wasn’t one of those jocks who couldn’t stop talking about their game manoeuvres. Tilting her head slightly, she raised an eyebrow, “I hope you’re not going to make me regret this?” she asked playfully, “I don’t do this often, so if this goes south you’ll be the reason I never approach a stranger again.”

It was obviously an exaggeration but Vera has always enjoyed putting people in a spot. She wanted to see if Mason would back out or if he was up for the challenge. Her instinctive judging of personality had already begun in her head as she decoded his body language. The smirk, his swagger, made her believe this was not someone who would back off easily or shy away from a challenge. Fishing out her keys she pointed it at her car and looked at the boy directly, “And of course, it’s terrible behaviour to take two cars when we are going the same way.” She continued in a grave tone, “Carpooling is the least we owe to the environment, really.” She sighed as she looked away, mentally already cursing people who didn’t take reducing carbon footprint seriously. 

“And should you choose to do the world a favour by not burning twice the fuel that we need, I’d prefer my car.” She paused for a bit before she felt the need to clarify, “And nope it’s not about ‘feminism and all that’ it’s about having better mileage.” Motioning at the engineering marvel she called her car she asked, “You think yours can top that?”

Mason laughed, shaking his head in amusement at their conversation. He wouldn’t call Veronica his friend-- that label was reserved for those he actually spent most of his time with, and Veronica definitely wasn’t one of those people. They ran in different circles, but even so, he found her interesting. She caught people’s attention wherever she went, and Mason would be lying if he said his interest wasn’t piqued the first time he’d seen her. She was beautiful, that was obvious, but there was also something else-- a sense of entitlement that he recognized because he, too, had that. “Potato, po-tah-to,” he said, waving a dismissive hand as he adjusted his bag on his other shoulder. He usually wasn’t one for bringing bags to class-- he believed whatever he needed to learn, he’d be able to keep in his head-- but his other camera’s lenses needed to be checked, which was why he was carrying it in his bag as of the moment.

“Of course, of course. Anything to help the environment.” Not that Mason really cared. He was looking forward to spending the rest of the afternoon in a car with Veronica Park on their way to town. He followed her to the parking lot and, when her car came into view, he couldn’t help but whistle appreciatively. Of course, her car would be as impressive as she is. What did he expect, after all? Everything about her just screamed luxury. “Lesley may be a beauty, but she definitely can’t top this,” he said as he neared the vehicle, still in awe at the sight of it. Lesley, as he lovingly referred to it, was a car his mother had gifted him on his sixteenth birthday-- a 2015 yellow Chevy Camaro that was far from being worse for wear what with Mason giving it so much care that he would never have given towards a human being, but it did show signs of use, and was nowhere near as incredible compared to the car in front of him at that moment. “Here I am, about to be driven around in a Maserati by Miss Veronica Park-- it must be my lucky day.”

“Oh, don’t make me blush,” she almost purrs although no colour comes to porcelain cheeks that isn’t meant to be there, it’s merely a thing to say. She is full of things to say without really feeling a thing at all, her parents spoon fed them to her for her entire life as if they were some sugary delightful treat for everyone around. Nobody sees her for who she truly is but she has no reason to use these words against Mason, no, this is a little light evening entertainment for her and no great ploy. “You’re going to make my head get even bigger than it already is,” she tells him, a glint in her eye that says – IT’S ALREADY BIG ENOUGH. 

The compliment hasn’t affected her the way it might affect others, she doesn’t swoon on the spot full of flutters and excitement but it does give her a thirst to find out where the excitement begins and ends. She is always spectating others and what they’re really up to, “Make sure to leave the camera on the side else all your torment will have been a waste,” she tilts her head to the side, a devilish grin painted across her lips stronger than her cherry lipstick, “You can take my photograph all you want, it might even be the best one you get all night. At least until it gets late and everyone starts showing their T R U E colours.”

Mason smirked at the other, enjoying their conversation. He held the camera to his face and took a few photos, whistling appreciatively as he reviewed them on the screen. “I was right-- you’re a pretty good subject.” He put the camera down once again and leaned against one of the booths. The grounds were beginning to get busier as the night progressed, more and more students checking out and participating the attractions. Mason wasn’t really the type to enjoy things like this-- he preferred a club and a bottle of tequila or two-- but there was something about the All Hallows Fest that he enjoyed. And with the added mystery of who was responsible for the dining room still left unsolved, he was certain things were about to get even more interesting. And he couldn’t help but agree with Reese; he couldn’t wait for everyone to start showing their true colors.

“And what about you, Reese?” he asked, a hint of challenge in his tone, but his features were playful-- a little flirtatious, even. “When do I get to see your true colors?” Mason didn’t really care much for the other students at the Academy, but he did like to enjoy his time, and Reese Kensington was certainly one of the more interesting people he’s met so far. He may have been there for his project, but he was definitely looking to stay for the company. 

Since he and Daniel wouldn’t be opening their booth in the next few hours, Kellan decided to wander. While the usual suspects of booths are rooted on the same path ever since his freshman year, newer ones have made appearances. It was always risky, coming up with something new, a little inventive, out of the box, and all that.  There was a mystic booth offering tarot and palm reading. That cool enough even though he skipped that one. His own teammates (ice hockey team) has set up a small booth for some hockey 101, basic lessons. That was helpful of the guys, but he skipped that, too. There’s a food booth, and he had to snap a picture and sent it to Daniel because there are cakes and even cream cheese churros. After chatting with some other students, something about an underground party (he said yes, he’s going), he went back to look at the other stalls. One particularly struck his interest, and the students behind the counter are ones he’s familiar with.

“Think you’ll be able to squeeze this one in your always-oh-so busy schedule?” Teased Danny, Kellan’s former classmate, as the latter grabbed a pen and signed up for lessons. They discussed possible dates for meet-ups, how everything will be formalized and set. Kellan was asked for his preference, and he told them. Minutes must have passed, their small group talking, dispersing until it was only Kellan, Danny, and Tristan. When Kellan hears a voice—someone familiar—behind him, he couldn’t help but smirk. Turning around as he grips the compound bow and arrow, aiming it at Mason. “Yeah, I do mind,” for the fun of it, “if you let me shoot an apple on top of your head—you can take a few photos. Sound good, Mason?” Kellan offered, lowering the hunting weapon and grinning at the other. “I never miss, promise.”

He almost groaned when he realized who he just approached. Mason was in no mood for their usual back and forth-- Camille had already monopolized the rest of his evenings for October, and he really only had the tolerance to do that with one person at a time-- but he figured he couldn’t let Kellan sour his current disposition any further. “I would think you would want to get your picture taken. Come on, vain guy like yourself?” he teased, smirking at the other. There was no way in hell he was gonna let Kellan shoot an apple off of his head, even if he was drunk. He wasn’t about to lose an eye over some dumb fair pictures. “And you may never miss, but you look like the kind of person who would-- intentionally, might I add-- for sport.” He all but rolled his eyes.

Mason took the camera strap off his neck and placed it around his right shoulder instead, his right hand holding on to the strap to secure it. He may not have seemed too enthused about taking photos for the fest, but he valued his cameras-- some would say more than he valued most people. “And I wasn’t even asking for your picture. I was asking for his. I think he’d look better on next week’s edition of the school paper than you would.” Mason gestured to the person Kellan had been speaking with a while ago, and threw the guy his second salute for that evening.

The grounds were alive with everything going on, buzz circulating and first years gathering blissfully to see what it was all about. Reese quite enjoyed halloween events, after all sometimes she felt she blened in well with the cast of a horror film because she could be equally as ruthless. Sometimes she even found she identified with the villains more than the heroes. She was watching the bizarre stall that seemed to be someone’s bad idea of fun when the voice broke her from her thoughts (mainly about how drunk she would be getting at camp out). “Don’t sound too excited,” she regards.

She turns then to see who she is speaking to and while her interest is only spiked slightly, she still offers him a passing moment of her attention – very reasonable of her, really. “I suppose I can be in a photograph or two since it sounds like you’re on the verge of throwing yourself out the window if you have to ask another person,” she agrees, her body adjusted to face him now as she turns and walks towards him. “Who says I’m not nice sometimes?”

Mason liked to think that more people knew of him, than he knew of more people. He wasn’t the kind of guy who made friends right off the bat, after all, and he really wasn’t the type for acquaintances. But even though Astor Academy was a big campus, it was small enough too that some people became notable to him, even if he hadn’t had more than one conversation with them. That was the case for Reese Kensington, because Mason knew of her. In fact, it sufficed to say that Mason thought that anyone on campus who didn’t know Reese Kensington was either antisocial or living under a rock, and Mason was neither. She was a beautiful girl, with a smart mouth-- the kind of girls Mason liked. 

“Ah, how can I not be excited when my subject is you?” he smirked as he directed the lens of the camera at her, his earlier sour mood momentarily forgotten in the presence of the other girl. If he couldn’t get away from doing the task, he might as well find a way to enjoy it. “You might be right, and I might have to find a window to throw myself out of after tonight, considering I have to take photos of almost everyone here,--” he rolled his eyes “--but I can’t say I might taking your photograph.”

The Academy grounds were abuzz with activity that particular evening, students excitedly checking out all the booths that were prepared in celebration of the opening of the All Hallows’ Fest. Mason stood on one side, camera in hand, taking pictures of the flurry of activity every now and then, and when Camille Troy caught his eye, he flashed her a too-eager grin. She was standing by the school paper attraction, a booth that promised a ‘horrifying literary experience’ by letting a student sit inside a dark make-shift room and listen to some horror audiobook. That evening’s selection was Agatha Christie’s works, and Mason could remember Camille glaring at him when he told her it was a lame idea. He still stood by his word, and perhaps it was due to Camille’s abrasiveness that there were actually two students standing by the booth. Two. Mason shook his head in amusement. 

He took some more pictures, and walked around the grounds. Mason stopped by a specific booth and sighed, clearing his throat once he was standing behind someone, and bringing up the camera to his chest. He inwardly groaned as he thought of what he was doing, and what he would be doing for the next three weeks. “Hi,” he said flatly. “Would you mind if I took some photos? It’s for the paper.” He didn’t even bother to hide his distaste for his current task.

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In the life of Veronica Park, nothing had the gall to be ordinary. From her Maserati Ghibli to  her custom-made Mont Blanc pens engraved with her name on them, everything she owned reeked of class. It was graceful without being overbearing, expensive, without being gaudy. In many ways, she supposed, she should have given up these things when she had set out to change the world, but she had realised that powerful people responded to power and having an aura of that power resided in these little things. They lent her personality a glittering edge which looked liked jewels from afar but when you got near enough your realised it was actually her pearly white teeth sharpened with words, that shone menacingly. Her impeccable logic could put people down much more easily than some bloated show of extravagance ever would. But when they got close enough to realise it wasn’t her money that was threatening, it was her mind, it was already too late, they were caught off-guard. Because money could be countered by many but very few could stand testament to Vera’s wit.

Having won another mock court against one of her classmates she was feeling restless. Winning against her peers in class had lost their charm. What seemed like a challenge earlier now had become commonplace. Most of the classes were still going on and Vera idlely contemplated getting Sebastian to send the chartered plane for a small two-day trip to Paris, maybe. But she dismissed the thought thinking of the number of questions the administration would have when she came back, not to mention the amount of logistics she’d have to figure out to find a spot in her parents’ busy schedules when they weren’t using the aircraft. Instead, she settled on driving her car to the town, maybe get a few pints. Strolling through the grounds, she started walking towards her car when she noticed a familiar figure in the distance, “Hey!” she grinned, she was feeling oddly sociable so she decided to go with her instincts, “Fancy a trip down town?” she said, patting her pockets to fish out her car keys.

The disapproving look the school paper editor shot Mason Yoon as she spoke about why he had to be the official photographer of the All Hallows’ Fest as his apology for his poorly-done job at the play made the boy smirk, and wave a dismissive hand as he, finally, after almost fifteen minutes of back and forth, agreed that he would do his job. Perhaps, ‘agree’ was the wrong word, because Mason didn’t have a choice. As agreed by him and his Photojournalism professor, he would have to volunteer his services to the school paper and, in exchange, he’d up his average from a C to a B. Not that a C was bad, but a B was needed for him to continue playing for the varsity soccer team, and Mason loved playing for the varsity soccer team. It was like he was having a bad case of deja vu, really, for he had found himself in the exact same situation before, when he was in high school. “Yes, yes, yes, Camille, I’ll do it. You don’t have to grovel.” Another disapproving look, and this time, Mason laughed before walking away, his camera hanging by the band around his neck.

The sunlight felt warm on his skin as he stepped into the grounds and he opened his arms and quite dramatically took a deep breath in. He let out a satisfied ‘Ahhh”, and he was lough enough that he caught the attention of some freshmen sitting on the nearby bench, and one of them– the boy– scowled at him as he raised his hand to his head in a salute, while the girl just smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear. He was done for the rest of the day, but he did have to buy some new film in preparation for the All Hallows’ Fest, and he was sure he would be consuming quite a lot, if Camille would have her way. Last time he submitted a single photo of the wrecked hall, she almost screamed his head off, and Mason wondered why she didn’t just take his suggestion to use some photo a student had posted on the internet. There were definitely quite a few. He was rummaging through his bag for his car keys, not quite paying attention to his surroundings as he walked, when he heard her voice, causing him to look up. “Huh, you’re the second girl to need my services for today,” he said, lips forming that trademark half-smirk half-smile of his. “Can’t say no to a trip downtown. Mine or yours?” He gestured to the parking lot. “I would offer to drive, but I want to give you the option in case you want to. Feminism and all that.”

Full Name: Mason Yoon Chang-Kyun (창균) Alias/es: Mason, Chang-Kyun (by his mother) Age: Twenty-one Date of Birth: December 30th, 1998 Place of Birth: New York City, New York

Education

Major: Photography Year Level: Second Year House: Genghis