A Crack in the Porcelain
Tuesday, February 11thDear Diary,
Today began with a bee sting and ended with a scandal.
I suppose I should start with the bee sting — symbolic, really. I was sketching the west garden during free period (the lavender bushes are surprisingly well-tended), when a massive, buzzing demon launched itself at me and stung my neck like I was some tragic heroine in a Victorian novel. Of course, I didn't scream — I'm not Leoni. But I did wince artistically, which caught the attention of a passing student.
Her name? Clara Maythorne.
Clara Maythorne, Year 12. Prefect. Choir soloist. Top marks in Ancient History.And, as I have now discovered, keeper of the school's most deliciously disturbing secret.
She took me to the nurse's office (a woman named Mrs. Binks who smells like eucalyptus and disapproval) and made polite conversation. Polite, but curious. She asked where we were from, why we transferred, what our father did.
I gave the usual vague answers — international athlete, twins, tragic but beautiful move from New York, etc. She seemed amused. Not in a cruel way — more like she already knew more than she was letting on.
Then she said something strange:
"Careful in the west garden. It's always been… unlucky."And before I could ask what she meant, she left.
Naturally, I followed her.
Because I'm Leonora Cortzel and I know when a story is hiding in plain sight.
After classes ended (Leoni was off somewhere trying to stage a coup against the prefects with her lip gloss army), I pretended to be going for a walk and slipped into the west wing of the school. Most of the girls hang out in the library or student lounge after class, but I'd noticed Clara slipping behind the chapel every afternoon.
The chapel itself is old — probably older than the school. The stained glass is cracked in places, the bell doesn't work, and no one really goes inside. That alone makes it suspicious. Why keep something beautiful abandoned?
Behind it, there's a path that curves behind the rose hedges. I followed it. And that's when I saw it.
A door. Half-hidden under ivy. Locked with a rusted iron chain.
Not part of the chapel, but almost… under it. A cellar, maybe. There was an old crest above it: a broken sword wrapped in vines. It isn't the school's official emblem. I looked it up later.
It's not on any brochure. Not on any school map.
So of course, I touched it.
And of course, I wasn't alone.
Clara reappeared, silent as a ghost, and said softly:
"Curiosity here is dangerous, Leonora. You should leave that door alone."
She didn't sound threatening. She sounded sad.
I asked her why. She didn't answer. Just walked away.
But I noticed something: a bracelet on her wrist — silver, delicate, and engraved with the same broken sword emblem. I'm guessing it's not from the school uniform shop.
Something happened here. Something important enough to be hidden. Buried. Forgotten. Or maybe... guarded.
So now I have two missions:
Survive Leoni's reign of glittery terror.
Unlock the secrets of that hidden chapel door.
Because secrets don't just keep themselves, Diary.
And I didn't come all the way to the Australian outback to play nice and paint flowers.Not when the air hums with old magic. Not when girls are whispering things that sound like warnings.
Leoni wants to run the school.I want to know what it's hiding.
Something's buried here.And I think Clara Maythorne just opened the first crack.
Intrigued and possibly cursed,Leonora Cortzel