Chapter Text
Prologue
THE GOLDEN HOUR BEGINS
It all started with an email.
Twelve inboxes, scattered across Britain—some in high-rise city apartments, others in quiet suburbs, a few out in the countryside, far from the noise. The subject line sat there, glowing with promise:
"CONGRATULATIONS! You’ve been accepted to the CSVPA Summer Program!"
For some, this was expected. A victory, sure, but not a surprise. For others, it was a moment that shifted everything—a chance they weren’t sure they’d get, an opportunity they weren’t sure they deserved.
Scarlett saw the email and screamed. She had rehearsed, revised, and agonized over her submission, crafting every second of her audition video with precision. She knew she was good, but knowing and believing were two very different things.
Ella, on the other hand? Barely a glance. She read it once, nodded, and went back to tennis practice. Her mother had insisted that she apply—something about making her more well-rounded, keeping her occupied, sharpening her elegance or whatever—but she wasn’t particularly fussed.
Victoria felt something shift inside her the moment she read the words. This was more than an acceptance—this was proof. Proof that musical theater wasn’t just for the thin girls, the pretty girls, the ones who fit the mold without question. She had fought too hard to be seen. Now, she was.
Veronica had stared at the screen for a while, silent, processing. She didn’t like new places. New people. New expectations. But the stage? The stage was home. And this program was a chance to let her talent do the talking, even when she wasn’t sure how to.
Meanwhile, Annie fired off a cryptic text to her friends: "I have ascended." No context. No explanation. Classic Annie.
River had left the email unopened for days, unsure whether she even had the energy to go. The grief sat heavy. Leaving home, stepping into something new—it felt too much. But one night, she whispered, "Alright, Mum, this one's for you," and finally clicked the link to confirm her place.
Charity didn’t hesitate. Art was survival. Every brushstroke, every performance, every creation—it was how she made sense of everything that had come before, every battle she had already won. CSVPA? Just another canvas waiting to be filled.
Elektra? She barely thought twice before applying. She had been dancing since she could walk, moving before she could speak, living inside rhythm before she even knew what it was. This was just the next step, and nothing would stop her from taking it.
Adriana stared at the ceiling for a while after reading the email. Newcastle still didn’t feel like home. The UK didn’t feel like home. Would this school be any different? Would she still feel like the Spanish girl in a sea of British accents?
Kitty opened the email mid-diet meltdown, a half-eaten celery stick in hand while scrolling TikTok. The diet would change. The plan would change. The outfits would change. But this summer? This summer was going to be hers.
Christina didn’t even blink. She had applied to win, and now she had the confirmation she needed. This wasn’t about artistic growth—it was about making sure the world knew who she was.
And Krystal? Oh, she never doubted. Some people were born to shine. She just let everyone else catch up to the fact.
The first morning was chaos. Students coming from their parents' cars or black cabs, pulling on heavy luggage packed for three weeks of what they were convinced would be the best summer of their lives.
The air buzzed with nervous energy, the kind that only happens when strangers are packed into one space, all unsure of the rules but determined to make an impression.
The main hall at CSVPA was nothing fancy—modern, functional, with the kind of lighting that made everyone look slightly too awake after hours of travel. But none of that mattered. Because this was the beginning of something big.
Scarlett stood near the middle of the room, hands stuffed into her pockets, willing herself to look effortlessly cool and composed. It was working. Probably.
Then, she saw her.
Ella was leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, head tilted slightly like she was taking stock of the room but not particularly interested in what she found. She had the kind of posture that made it seem like this wasn’t her first time walking into something new and owning it.
Scarlett felt something shift—an odd, fleeting moment of curiosity, like a spark without explanation.
Then Krystal strutted past, flipping her hair like she had already crowned herself queen of the program, snapping Scarlett out of the moment entirely.
The program director was talking now, giving the usual welcome speech about passion, hard work, creativity, blah blah blah—Scarlett knew the spiel. But she barely processed it.
Because now, Ella was looking at her too.
Not fully, not intensely—just a glance, the kind you don’t think much of at first, but later realize was the start of something.
Scarlett looked away first.
Somewhere in the crowd, Krystal was already setting her plans in motion, eyes darting across the faces, mentally organizing people into categories—potential allies, potential threats, potential unfortunate souls who wouldn’t survive her influence.
And just like that, the program was officially underway.
After the welcome session, envelopes were handed out with room assignments.
Scarlett skimmed hers—Room 1. She glanced at the names. Annie Finch and River Medway.
“Okay. Interesting mix.” She muttered to herself, wondering who could have a name like River Medway, still, she was eager to meet her roommates for the summer
Across the hall, Ella checked hers—Room 2. She barely blinked at the names. Charity Kase, and she couldn’t help but smile, that name seemed an intended pun. Then there was Veronica Green. Whatever. She wasn’t here to bond.
Krystal was already smirking at hers—Room 3. Christina Milan and Katherine Scott-Claus. Perfect. The dream team for total social control.
Victoria, meanwhile, exhaled as she read her card—Room 4. Elektra Fence and Adriana May. She had no complaints.
And just like that, the next stage began.
Once in the room, Scarlett sat on the edge of her bed, exhaling sharply, trying to shake off that weird moment from earlier. She wasn’t going to think about Ella. Nope. Not happening. Instead, she turned her attention to the actual immediate reality—her roommates. “So… I guess we should introduce ourselves?” she ventured, looking between Annie and River.
Annie rolled onto her side, dramatically resting her head on her hand like she was the star of a sitcom pilot.
"Obviously. I’m Annie," she announced, then grinned wickedly. "But you can call me Anubis."
Scarlett raised a brow. "Why?"
Annie sat up, flicking imaginary dust off her jacket. "Because the ancient Egyptian god of death and I have a lot in common. Dark humor, impeccable style, an aura of mystery—"
Scarlett snorted. "You mean you wear a lot of black?"
"Exactly," Annie confirmed, completely unbothered.
River, sitting quietly near the window, smiled but didn’t immediately jump in. She was watching, measuring the energy in the room, deciding how much of herself she wanted to give away.
Scarlett caught the hesitation and leaned back against her pillow. “And you?”
River glanced up, soft but steady. "River," she said simply.
Annie narrowed her eyes playfully. "Just River?"
River hesitated, then smirked lightly. "Well… some people call me ‘tough cookie.’"
Annie let out a delighted cackle. "Oh, that’s brilliant. I love that for you."
Scarlett grinned, feeling the tension ease slightly. Alright, this room? This could work.
Meanwhile, across the hall, Ella sat on the dresser, arms crossed, watching Charity unpack like she had an entire art studio stuffed inside her bags.
Victoria, perched neatly on her bed, finally broke the silence. "I guess we should introduce ourselves," she said, voice measured, careful.
Charity flicked her gaze up, finishing the perfect placement of her sketchbook before replying, “Charity.”
Ella stretched lazily, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Ella."
Victoria paused, then nodded. "Victoria."
Silence.
Ella smirked slightly. "Wow. Riveting conversation."
Charity chuckled at that, breaking some of the tension. Veronica just exhaled, shaking her head. "We'll get there."
Ella didn’t look convinced.
Not far from there, Krystal didn’t bother waiting for introductions. She took center stage, tossing her heels into the corner before turning to face her roommates. "Alright, let’s make one thing clear," she started, completely ignoring formalities. "This summer? We run this place."
Vanity grinned instantly. "Oh, one hundred percent."
Kitty sat back, crossing her legs, evaluating Krystal like she was presenting a pitch.
"And what exactly does ‘running this place’ entail?" she asked.
Krystal smirked. "Social hierarchy. Control. Making sure the right people are at the top."
Kitty narrowed her eyes. "And by ‘right people,’ you mean… you?"
Krystal didn’t hesitate. "Obviously."
Vanity laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "Oh, I love this energy."
Kitty rolled her eyes, but her smirk said she wasn’t opposed to the idea.
Before anything else, Krystal tilted her head, assessing. "Name check. Who am I working with?"
Vanity flipped onto her back. "Christina. But, babe, Vanity sounds better, don’t you think?"
Kitty stretched, letting Krystal wait before answering. "Kitty," she finally said. "Scott-Claus, if we’re being fancy."
Krystal smirked. Perfect. The empire starts now.
Behind another door, Veronica hesitated, knowing the introductions were coming. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to say, but before she could speak, Elektra didn’t even pause before diving in.
"Elektra," she said, stretching her arms above her head. "Dance is life, movement is art, and stretching is non-negotiable."
Adriana chuckled. "You should get that on a T-shirt."
Elektra grinned. "Already working on it."
Adriana shook her head, amused. "Adriana. People call me Choriza, but… let’s not unpack that right now."
Veronica blinked, caught off guard, but found herself smiling.
They turned to her, waiting.
She swallowed once, then nodded. "Veronica. Theater is kind of my whole world."
Elektra pointed dramatically at her. "Yes! I knew you had theater kid energy."
Veronica laughed—genuinely, without tension, for the first time all day.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
The chatter filled the halls as students followed their instructors, winding through the corridors, weaving between studios and performance spaces that would soon feel like second homes.
Scarlett walked near the middle of the group, arms crossed, taking everything in—the studios, the classrooms, the rehearsal spaces. The walls were lined with past student achievements, framed headshots of graduates who had gone on to West End productions, high-fashion runways, and international art exhibitions.
"This place is kind of insane," Annie murmured beside her, sunglasses finally perched atop her head instead of blocking half her face.
"Yeah, no pressure," River added quietly, glancing at the lineup of names that had made it big before them.
Annie smirked. "I thrive under pressure."
Scarlett chuckled, shaking her head. The energy between them was already natural, a growing understanding that would solidify into something real soon enough.
Behind them, Krystal walked with Vanity and Kitty, throwing subtle glances at the groups forming. She wasn’t interested in the facilities—she was interested in who was worth her time.
Near the front, Elektra had already zoned in on the dance studio schedules, eyes glinting with pure ambition.
"This is it. I’m living here," she declared.
Victoria hummed beside her. "Do you think we have the piano rooms open all night?"
"You planning midnight solos?" Adriana teased, nudging her lightly.
Victoria smirked, but there was something genuine in the idea—the thought of her voice ringing through the walls while the world slept.
Up ahead, Veronica stayed quiet, watching, absorbing. Charity beside her was completely engrossed in the art spaces, already planning how to leave her mark.
Then, completely randomly, completely by chance, Scarlett and Ella ended up side by side.
Scarlett turned, glancing over at Ella. It was just a glance. Just a breath.
Ella noticed.
For half a second, nothing.
Then, Scarlett tilted her head slightly. "So, you’re real." Ella raised a brow, equal parts amused and unimpressed. "Last time I checked."
Scarlett exhaled a laugh, surprised at how easy it felt. "Guess that makes two of us." Ella smirked—just a flicker before she turned back to the tour.
Behind them, Krystal saw it. Saw the interaction, saw the casual energy, saw something she didn’t like.
The game was changing faster than she expected.
A few hours, some relaxing showers, and a bunch of complaining teenagers later, the guided tour finally ended, and they were all ready to have dinner and prepare to jump into bed to be ready for the first week to start.
The dining hall buzzed with motion, students gathering at long tables, breaking into clusters as they naturally gravitated toward familiar or intriguing faces.
Scarlett, Annie, and River arrived together, already settled into their easy rhythm, scanning the tables for a decent spot. Annie, ever the opportunist, spotted an empty middle table near the windows, tugging Scarlett toward it before she could protest.
Victoria and Charity followed a moment later, neither of them particularly eager to sit among loud clusters of overexcited theater kids. Their options were limited, and the middle table seemed unassuming enough.
Meanwhile, Ella had entered alone, uninterested in playing the seating arrangement game—but once Veronica and Charity sat down, she took the closest available seat without a second thought.
Scarlett barely noticed until they were all settled.
She looked up, and there was Ella, casually sipping from her glass, looking completely unbothered about who she was sitting with.
Scarlett exhaled slowly. Okay. No big deal. Right?
Across the hall, other groups were shifting.
Veronica had intended to sit with Elektra and Adriana, but they ended up near a group of dancers, pulling her along for what was quickly turning into a lively, movement-filled table.
Kitty, despite herself, had gotten dragged into Vanity’s ruthless judgment session, which left her at Krystal’s table, whether she liked it or not.
Krystal, however, wasn’t focused on her table at all.
She was watching Scarlett and Ella.
It wasn’t just suspicion. It wasn’t just annoyance. It was something deeper, something unsettled.
Because Krystal knew Ella, or at least, she knew her type of girl, someone who never had to fight for attention but somehow always ended up holding it anyway.
Ella was untouchable, effortlessly cool.
Krystal picked at her food, tapping her nails against the edge of the table. Krystal wasn’t just watching Scarlett and Ella. She was studying them.
At first, it had been nothing—Ella sitting wherever she landed, barely acknowledging the details of her surroundings. She wasn’t one of those people who deliberately positioned herself in a room, making sure she was near the right crowd. She just existed, and somehow, that was always enough.
Scarlett, on the other hand? She paid attention even if she didn’t realize it, even if she wasn’t trying to.
It was subtle at first. An adjustment of posture, a glance that lasted half a second longer than necessary. It wasn’t romantic—it wasn’t anything, really. But it was something.
The way Scarlett reacted to Ella’s presence was different from the way she reacted to everyone else, like some part of her brain had marked Ella as significant before she even understood why.
Ella must have noticed, because something shifted in her, too.
She had started actually engaging, throwing in remarks here and there, almost like she was testing Scarlett’s energy, seeing if she could match her without effort.
And she did.
Scarlett didn’t know when exactly the conversation at her table became effortless.
She had barely noticed how the energy shifted, how the jokes started landing a little easier, how the awkward tension from earlier had faded without a trace.
Charity was mid-monologue, wildly gesturing about the horrors of forgetting an entire monologue during an audition, voice rising in dramatic agony.
The table laughed, some louder than others.
Scarlett smirked, shaking her head. "You didn’t actually freeze, did you?"
"Oh, I absolutely did," Charity confirmed, placing a hand over her heart like she was delivering a Shakespearean tragedy. "Full blackout. Complete betrayal of my own brain. I just stood there, staring into the abyss, silent. Horrifying."
Scarlett laughed, leaning her elbow onto the table. "And they still called you back?"
Charity grinned. "I think they were entertained by the sheer disaster of it all."
Ella let out a quiet chuckle, barely noticeable—more a breath of amusement than a full laugh.
Scarlett caught it, even though she wasn’t watching her too closely… even though she wasn’t paying extra attention to the way Ella’s lips curved slightly at certain moments, or how her eyes lingered just a second longer than expected when Scarlett said something clever.
Ella reached for her glass, fingers tapping against the rim for half a second longer than necessary—not nervous, just absentminded.
Scarlett shifted slightly, pulling her sleeve up, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist—something to do with her hands, something to ground herself before she thought too much about it.
"You ever bomb an audition?" she asked, directing the question toward Ella before she could reconsider.
Ella looked up, blinking once, like she was surprised to be addressed at all. She tilted her head slightly, considering. "Once," she admitted.
Scarlett raised a brow, waiting.
Ella exhaled, gaze flicking to Charity, as if deciding whether she was about to compete for worst audition disaster. "Tripped over a stage light," she said finally. "Flat on my face."
Scarlett laughed, head tilting back slightly, eyes bright. "No way."
Ella smirked—small, barely-there, but real. "Swear on it," she said.
Scarlett shook her head, grinning. "Alright, I need details. Who witnessed it?"
And she definitely wasn’t noticing how easy it was to talk to her, even when she barely said anything at all.
Ella took a sip of water, pausing just long enough to pull a stray strand of hair behind her ear, flicking her gaze back toward Scarlett.
"Everyone."
Scarlett bit back another laugh, shaking her head. "Amazing. Iconic."
Ella huffed a quiet chuckle, looking down at her plate for just a second, before rolling her shoulders back and returning to that usual effortless composure.
And that should’ve been it—a brief exchange, a simple moment.
Krystal, several tables away, had noticed everything.
But the night carried on, and eventually, the first dinner ended the way all first nights do—with excitement buzzing beneath exhaustion, students scattering, heading toward their dorms, groups breaking apart in a slow, natural rhythm.
Scarlett, Annie, and River moved together, now comfortably settled into their trio, casual, at ease.
Ella peeled off toward her dorm without a glance back—but Scarlett didn’t care. Not really.
Krystal walked with Vanity and Kitty, already formulating her next moves, already deciding how to regain control before anyone thought too highly of themselves.
Victoria, Elektra, and Adriana trailed behind, their dynamic still loosely forming, unspoken but steadily shifting.
And just like that, the first day was over.
The week ahead? That would change everything.