Chapter One – The First Glance
The bell for first period hadn't even rung yet, but the main hallway of Riverdale High was already pulsing with energy. Lockers slammed like cymbals, conversations overlapped in messy harmony, and somewhere down the hall someone was laughing loud enough to turn heads.
Jenny Evans slipped through it all like a shadow.
Her sketchbook was pressed tightly against her chest, the edges frayed and the paper inside swollen from years of graphite smudges. She hugged it as though it could shield her from the noise, from the elbows brushing too close, from the eyes that might notice her if she wasn't careful.
Jenny didn't like being noticed.
At sixteen, she had mastered invisibility. Her long dark hair often fell like curtains around her face, and she chose quiet corners of the school where crowds thinned. If people knew her at all, they knew her as that art girl, the one who sat by the window in class and never raised her hand.
And she was fine with that. Or at least, she had convinced herself she was.
This morning was supposed to be like any other—walk fast, avoid eye contact, get to homeroom. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
"Frank! Yo, Frank!"
The shout came from somewhere ahead, and Jenny's gaze lifted before she could stop herself.
And there he was.
Frank Harrison.
Even in a hallway packed with students, he stood out effortlessly. His letterman jacket was unzipped, showing a plain white t-shirt beneath, but somehow he made the simple outfit look like it belonged on a magazine cover. His hair was the kind of messy that looked intentional, like the universe itself conspired to make him attractive.
He was surrounded by friends—athletes, class clowns, the effortlessly popular—but when he laughed, the sound seemed brighter than all the noise around him.
And then, the impossible happened.
His eyes—warm brown, steady, curious—lifted from his friends and landed directly on Jenny.
It wasn't a passing glance. It wasn't one of those quick sweeps that popular kids gave the background characters of the school. No, his gaze lingered, as though he had just noticed something—or someone—worth looking at.
Jenny froze.
Her stomach tightened, and her cheeks burned as though the entire hallway had suddenly turned its attention on her. She quickly ducked her head, letting her hair fall forward to shield her face, but it was too late.
Her heart betrayed her. Thump. Thump. Thump. Loud enough, she was sure, that someone nearby could hear it.
"Jenny, calm down," she whispered under her breath, clutching the sketchbook tighter. "He probably wasn't even looking at you."
But part of her—an irrational, trembling part—knew he had been.
And she hated that she cared.
Don't do this to yourself, she warned silently. He's Frank Harrison. You're just… you.
The hallway suddenly seemed longer, the walk to her classroom more urgent. She ducked into the nearest doorway just to breathe, pressing her back against the cool cinderblock wall, trying to convince herself it hadn't happened.
But in her mind's eye, his smile lingered.
And Jenny knew she was in trouble.
Across the hallway, unnoticed by Jenny, someone else had seen everything.
Phyna Brooks leaned casually against her locker, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp. She had been watching Frank—she always watched Frank—but now her attention had shifted.
To Jenny.
Phyna wasn't the kind of girl people ignored. With her striking hazel eyes, glossy curls, and a confidence that filled whatever space she entered, she was the kind of person teachers remembered by name and students either admired or feared. She was bold, unapologetic, and she had a way of turning heads without even trying.
When she smiled, it was usually because she had already decided something.
And right now, her lips curved into a knowing smirk.
"Well, well," she murmured to herself, adjusting the strap of her designer bag. "Looks like someone's got eyes for my prize."
The warning bell rang, scattering the hallway into motion again. Students rushed into classrooms, chatter fading into the scrape of chairs and the rustle of notebooks. Jenny finally slipped into her homeroom, sinking into her usual seat by the window.
She opened her sketchbook, letting her pencil move instinctively across the page. First came the outline of a jaw, then the curve of lips, then eyes she could never quite capture the warmth of.
She didn't even realize she was sketching Frank until his likeness stared back at her in graphite.
Her hand froze. She quickly tried to shade the features into something else—anyone else—but the truth was already there in the lines she had drawn.
She sighed, resting her forehead against her palm. "This is a mistake," she whispered.
Outside the door, Phyna strolled past, her sharp eyes catching the half-finished sketch through the window before Jenny snapped the book shut.
The smirk returned to Phyna's lips.
This wasn't going to be just another school year.
This was the beginning of a game.
And Phyna always played to win.
Chapter Two – The Game Begins
The cafeteria at Riverdale High was always loud, but at lunchtime it became unbearable—a hive of voices bouncing off the tiled walls, chairs scraping against linoleum, and trays clattering in the endless line at the food counter. The air smelled of pizza grease and reheated fries, with an undertone of disinfectant that never quite masked it.
Jenny Evans slipped through the chaos like someone navigating a battlefield. She carried her tray with one hand, her sketchbook tucked under the other arm, moving quickly past tables where laughter and gossip ruled. Everyone seemed to have a group, a circle, a place where they belonged.
Jenny had never really found hers.
She chose a small table in the far corner of the cafeteria, one pushed so close to the wall that most students ignored it. It suited her. She set her tray down, though she had little appetite, and pulled her sketchbook onto the table.
It was always safer to draw than to try and make conversation.
Her pencil moved lightly across the page. First, the outline of a shoulder. Then the slope of a jawline she'd memorized without meaning to. She shaded carefully, trying to capture the way light might fall against skin, the depth of eyes that had looked at her that morning in the hallway.
She told herself it was just practice. That it could be anyone. But the truth was clear. The sketch belonged to Frank.
Jenny exhaled softly, torn between a thrill of warmth and the sharp stab of guilt. "This is stupid," she whispered under her breath, flipping her pencil to smudge the shading.
She was so absorbed she didn't notice the shadow falling across her table until a tray slid loudly onto the surface.
Jenny jumped, snapping her sketchbook shut.
Phyna Brooks dropped gracefully into the seat across from her, crossing her legs beneath the table as though she owned the space. The noise of the cafeteria seemed to dull around her—Phyna had that effect, drawing attention without asking for it.
Jenny stared, startled. "Um… hi?"
Phyna smirked, plucking a fry from her tray and twirling it between her fingers before popping it into her mouth. "Relax," she said, her tone silky. "I don't bite." Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Not unless I want to."
Jenny shifted in her seat, her palms suddenly damp. She didn't really know Phyna—just the way everyone knew her. She was bold, magnetic, and dangerous in a way Jenny couldn't quite name. People orbited around Phyna the way moths did around a flame.
And flames burned.
Jenny's voice came out smaller than she intended. "What do you… want?"
Phyna leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand. Her hazel eyes studied Jenny with sharp curiosity. "So, Jenny Evans." She said the name like it was something fragile she was testing for weight. "You like him, don't you?"
Jenny's stomach dropped. "W-who?"
Phyna's smirk widened as she picked up another fry. "Frank. Don't play innocent."
Jenny's pulse quickened. She shook her head quickly, too quickly. "No, I—he's not—I don't…" Her words stumbled over each other, weak and unconvincing.
Phyna laughed softly, the sound more amused than cruel. "You're a terrible liar." Her gaze flicked deliberately to the sketchbook Jenny was guarding like a lifeline. "You were drawing him, weren't you?"
Jenny flushed crimson, slamming her palm on the cover of the sketchbook as though it could erase the truth inside. "It's not what you think," she muttered, but her voice trembled.
Phyna tilted her head, considering her. "Relax. I'm not judging. Honestly, it's kind of cute." She leaned in closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "But here's the thing—you should know something about me."
Jenny's throat tightened. "What?"
Phyna's lips curled into a smile, her tone sweet but edged with steel. "I like him too. And when I want something…" She paused, letting the silence hang heavy. "I always get it."
Jenny's chest constricted.
The words were delivered casually, like a simple fact, but Jenny heard the warning beneath them. This wasn't a confession. It was a declaration of war.
Something flickered in Jenny, a spark of resistance she didn't expect. Her voice was small but steady when she said, "That doesn't mean he belongs to you."
Phyna's eyebrows arched, surprised and intrigued. Then, slowly, she smiled. It wasn't the smile of someone amused—it was the smile of someone who had just found a challenge worth playing with.
"Well, well," she said softly. "Maybe you're not as shy as you look."
Phyna stood, lifting her tray with practiced grace. She gave Jenny one last lingering look, her eyes glinting like a cat that had cornered its prey. "Let's see how long that courage lasts."
She walked away without waiting for an answer, her hips swaying, her presence swallowing the room even as she left it. A group of students at a nearby table immediately leaned toward her, laughing at something she said as though she had never spoken to Jenny at all.
But Jenny knew better.
Her hands trembled slightly as she opened her sketchbook again, staring down at the faint outline of Frank's face. The lines seemed to mock her now.
She hadn't wanted to be part of anything messy. She had never been the type to fight for someone's attention. But Phyna had made it clear—this wasn't about love anymore.
It was about winning.
And Jenny had just been pulled into a game she didn't know the rules of.
Chapter Three – The Heist Plan
The afternoon sunlight slanted across the polished floors of Riverdale High, painting the hallway in warm gold. Students streamed out of classrooms, conversations overlapping in bursts of laughter, complaints about homework, and plans for after school.
Jenny moved slower than the rest, her sketchbook hugged close to her chest as always. Her encounter with Phyna in the cafeteria still pulsed through her veins like an electric current she couldn't shake. Every word echoed in her mind—I always get what I want.
Jenny had told herself not to think about it. To keep her head down, like she always did. But Phyna's eyes, that smirk, the deliberate challenge—it was impossible to ignore.
And then there was Frank.
Jenny hated herself for it, but every time she caught a glimpse of him in the hall—laughing with his teammates, leaning casually against his locker, flashing that easy smile—her chest tightened in ways she didn't understand. He was effortless. And she… she was invisible.
She told herself to let it go. But something told her Phyna wouldn't.
Later that evening, the library was unusually quiet.
Frank sat alone at a back table, a textbook open in front of him but his attention clearly elsewhere. His backpack slumped against the chair leg, his pencil tapped idly against the page.
He was waiting.
And then, as if on cue, Phyna slid into the seat across from him. She didn't ask—she simply made herself comfortable, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her hazel eyes gleaming.
"Wow," Frank said, raising a brow. "Phyna Brooks. Voluntarily in the library. What's the world coming to?"
Phyna smirked. "Don't get used to it. I'm not here for the books."
Frank chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Figures."
Phyna leaned forward, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "Tell me something, Frank. Do you like… adventure?"
He tilted his head, curious. "Define adventure."
"Something thrilling. Risky. Something no one else would dare to try."
Frank raised a brow, intrigued despite himself. "At school? You planning a field trip to the moon or something?"
Phyna's smile widened, predatory. "Better." She glanced around to make sure no one was listening, then whispered, "I know where the principal keeps everything he doesn't want anyone to find. A safe. Locked. Hidden in his office."
Frank blinked, trying to gauge whether she was serious. "You mean like… detention slips?"
"More than that," Phyna said smoothly. "Confidential records. Answers to next semester's tests. Maybe even money. Stuff students would kill to get their hands on." She let the words sink in before adding, "And I've got a plan to get it."
Frank stared at her, his pencil still in his hand. "You're not serious."
"Oh, I am." Her voice was honey-sweet but edged with steel. "And I think you'd be the perfect partner."
Frank laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. "Phyna, come on. Breaking into the principal's office? That's not just detention. That's suspension. Expulsion."
She leaned closer, her perfume a mix of jasmine and something sharper. "Where's your sense of fun, Frank? Don't you ever get tired of being perfect? Captain Harrison, the golden boy? Don't you ever want to… break the rules?"
Something in her tone unsettled him. He wasn't sure if it was the challenge in her eyes or the thrill that shot through him at the idea.
He hesitated. "Why me?"
"Because you're smart. Because people trust you. And because…" She let her gaze linger on him in a way that made his throat tighten. "…I think you want more than you're letting on."
Frank swallowed hard. He wanted to say no. He should say no. But the spark in Phyna's eyes, the dangerous promise of it—it pulled at something restless inside him.
"I'll think about it," he said finally.
Phyna smirked, satisfied. "That's all I ask."
She stood gracefully, collecting her bag. "But don't take too long. Opportunities like this don't wait forever."
As she walked away, Frank stared down at his textbook, his mind buzzing louder than any equation on the page.
Jenny had been there the whole time.
Hidden behind a row of tall library shelves, sketchbook clutched to her chest, she had come to return a novel. But the moment she saw Phyna glide across the library and sit with Frank, curiosity held her frozen. And when she overheard their conversation, her stomach knotted.
A safe. Secrets. Frank being pulled into whatever Phyna was planning.
Jenny's pulse raced. She knew Phyna wasn't bluffing—Phyna never bluffed. And Frank, with his easy smile and restless charm, was exactly the kind of person Phyna could drag into trouble.
Jenny pressed her back against the shelf, her breath shallow. She hadn't meant to get involved. She didn't even know why she cared so much. But something about this felt bigger than a crush, bigger than a rivalry.
This wasn't just about love anymore.
This was about a game. A dangerous one.
And Jenny realized with a chill—whether she wanted to or not, she was already part of it.
Chapter Four – Whispers and Warnings
The following morning, Jenny arrived at school earlier than usual.
The hallways were mostly empty, the fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above as she slipped toward her locker. She wanted the quiet—needed it. After overhearing Phyna and Frank in the library, her mind hadn't stopped racing. Every word replayed in her head like a warning bell: A safe. Answers. Money. Adventure.
Jenny had never cared about school gossip or the reckless schemes of the bold kids. But Frank was different. She couldn't explain why his involvement unsettled her so deeply. Maybe it was because he was good—the kind of person people admired without question. And Phyna… Phyna could twist even the strongest person into something unrecognizable.
Jenny fumbled with the lock, her fingers trembling. What if Frank says yes? What if he goes along with her plan?
The sound of footsteps behind her made her spin.
Frank.
He was alone, his basketball bag slung over his shoulder, his hair damp from an early practice. He looked surprised to see her. "Jenny, right?"
Her heart jumped. He knew her name.
"Uh, y-yeah," she stammered, clutching her locker door for balance.
Frank offered a small smile, easy and genuine. "Didn't think you came in this early."
Jenny swallowed. This was her chance. She couldn't let fear silence her, not this time. "I—I was actually hoping to talk to you."
His brow furrowed slightly. "Talk to me?"
Her pulse hammered in her ears. "About… Phyna."
Frank stiffened, just for a moment, before masking it with a laugh. "What about her?"
Jenny hesitated, searching his face. He didn't look guilty, exactly, but there was something—something restless in his eyes, like he was carrying a secret.
"I overheard," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "In the library yesterday. About the safe. About… whatever she's planning."
Frank's eyes widened. "You were there?"
Jenny nodded, gripping the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles whitened. "Frank, you can't. It's dangerous. If you get caught—"
He raised a hand, cutting her off gently. "Relax, Jenny. I haven't agreed to anything."
"But you're thinking about it," she pressed, surprising even herself with the firmness in her voice.
Frank sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look… I don't know what Phyna's game is. Maybe it's just talk. But…" He trailed off, glancing away. "Part of me wonders if she's right. Maybe I am too predictable. Too safe. Sometimes I feel like everyone already knows exactly who I am, what I'll do, how I'll live my life. And it's boring."
Jenny's chest tightened. She had expected denial, maybe even annoyance. Not… honesty.
"You don't have to prove anything by breaking the rules," she said softly. "That's what she wants—to pull you into her game. But you're better than that."
Frank looked at her, really looked at her, as though he hadn't noticed before how steady her eyes were, even if her hands trembled. For a moment, Jenny thought she saw something shift in his expression—respect, maybe even admiration.
"You're different," he said quietly.
Jenny blinked. "What?"
"You don't talk like everyone else. You're not trying to flatter me, or impress me. You're just… honest." He smiled faintly. "It's refreshing."
Jenny's face burned. She quickly looked down, fumbling with her books. "I—I just don't want you to get hurt."
Before Frank could respond, a voice rang out down the hall.
"Well, isn't this cozy?"
Phyna.
She walked toward them, her heels clicking against the floor, her expression sharp as glass. She was dressed impeccably, as always, her hair bouncing in perfect waves.
Jenny stepped back instinctively, but Phyna's eyes locked onto her like a predator spotting prey.
"What are you doing, Jenny?" Phyna asked sweetly, though her tone carried a blade. "Warning him? Trying to convince him I'm the bad guy?"
Frank straightened, his jaw tightening. "Phyna, stop. She was just—"
But Phyna held up a hand, silencing him without looking his way. Her focus remained on Jenny.
"You think you're clever, don't you?" she murmured. "Listening in, whispering warnings, pretending to be his savior. But let me make something clear—" She stepped closer, her voice dropping low enough that only Jenny could hear. "This isn't your story. It's mine."
Jenny's breath caught.
Phyna leaned back, her smirk returning as though nothing had happened. She turned to Frank, her tone bright and playful again. "So, Frank. About our little project—have you thought it over?"
Frank hesitated, glancing between the two girls. Jenny's silent plea was clear in her eyes. Don't do it.
Phyna's smirk widened, as though she already knew the answer.
And Jenny realized something in that moment.
If she wanted to protect Frank, she couldn't just warn him. She couldn't just hide behind her sketchbook and hope for the best.
She would have to play.
For the first time in her life, Jenny Evans decided she was done being invisible.
Chapter Five – Countermoves
Jenny had never been good at lying.
She couldn't even fake being sick without her mom seeing straight through her. And yet, here she was, carrying the weight of a secret so heavy it made her hands tremble when she held her sketchbook.
For the rest of the week, she couldn't concentrate in class. Every time Frank laughed across the room, her chest tightened with worry. Every time Phyna caught her eye with that smug, knowing smile, Jenny's stomach twisted.
Phyna wasn't bluffing—Jenny knew that much. She had a plan. And if Jenny didn't do something, Frank would be pulled into it.
But what could she do? She wasn't bold like Phyna, or charming like Frank. She was just… Jenny.
Still, one thought kept circling her mind, refusing to let go: If I can figure out her plan, maybe I can stop it.
That Friday afternoon, instead of heading straight home, Jenny ducked into the library. Not to draw, not to read—this time, she was hunting for information.
The library's computer lab was nearly empty. Jenny logged into one of the old desktops, her palms sweating as she pulled up the school's website. From there, she clicked through staff directories, newsletters, anything that might give her a hint about Principal Larson's office.
Her heart pounded as she found a digital floor plan tucked away in an old "Welcome to Riverdale High!" PDF. Most students wouldn't have cared. But Jenny studied every line.
There.
The principal's office, tucked behind the administrative wing. Small room, but a square shape that suggested space for more than just a desk and filing cabinets.
That's where she'll go, Jenny thought. That's where the safe must be.
A voice startled her.
"You know those computers keep a history, right? If you're planning to hack into something, you might wanna be more subtle."
Jenny flinched. Her mouse nearly slipped from her hand as she turned.
Frank.
He was leaning against the computer carrel, holding his basketball bag, a teasing smile on his face. But there was curiosity in his eyes too.
"I—I wasn't hacking anything," Jenny stammered.
"Sure looked like you were." He leaned closer, lowering his voice. "You're looking into the principal's office, aren't you?"
Jenny's breath caught.
Frank studied her for a moment, then shook his head in disbelief. "Unbelievable. You're supposed to be the quiet one. The good one."
Jenny bit her lip, her voice shaking. "I'm doing it because of you. Because if Phyna really drags you into this, you'll get in trouble. And you don't deserve that."
Frank blinked. He hadn't expected that.
"I heard her," Jenny continued, her words spilling now. "She's serious. And she's dangerous. She'll use you, Frank. I don't know why, but she will. And I can't just… sit back and watch."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Jenny's cheeks burned, and she half-expected Frank to laugh, to tell her she was being dramatic.
Instead, his smile faded. "You really believe that, don't you?"
Jenny nodded. "I do."
Frank exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Then maybe… maybe we should figure this out together."
Jenny's eyes widened. "What?"
"You're right. Phyna's up to something. And if she's dragging me into it, I want to know the whole picture before I make a choice." He met Jenny's gaze, his expression serious. "So if you're investigating… I'm in."
Jenny's heart lurched. She hadn't expected him to side with her. Not like this.
But before she could reply, the library doors creaked open.
Phyna.
She stepped inside, scanning the room with sharp eyes.
Jenny panicked, slamming the browser closed. The screen returned to the bland desktop background just as Phyna's heels clicked against the floor.
"Well, well," Phyna said smoothly, her smirk firmly in place. "What a surprise. Jenny Evans. Frank Harrison. Alone together in the library. Again."
Her gaze flicked between them, and Jenny felt cold dread creep into her bones.
Phyna leaned forward on the edge of their table, lowering her voice just enough to sting. "Careful, Jenny. Curiosity is dangerous. You might find yourself caught in something you don't understand."
Jenny gripped her sketchbook so hard it hurt. But when she looked at Phyna's gleaming hazel eyes, she forced herself not to flinch.
For the first time, Jenny lifted her chin and met her stare head-on.
"Maybe I understand more than you think," she whispered.
Phyna blinked, her smile faltering for the briefest second.
Then she straightened, her smirk returning, sharper than ever. "We'll see."
As she walked away, Frank leaned closer to Jenny, his voice low. "She knows."
Jenny swallowed hard, her chest pounding. "Then we have to move faster."
For the first time in her life, Jenny wasn't just hiding behind her drawings. She was making a move.
The game had truly begun.
Chapter Six – Shadows in the Office Wing
Saturday afternoons were supposed to be quiet at Riverdale High.
No teachers barking orders. No students cramming for tests. Just the creak of old pipes and the hum of fluorescent lights echoing through empty hallways.
Jenny had never set foot in the school on a weekend before. Just being here made her stomach twist. She hugged her sketchbook to her chest out of habit, though she hadn't brought it to draw—it was simply a shield, a piece of herself she couldn't leave behind.
Beside her, Frank walked with easy confidence, his basketball duffel slung over one shoulder like this was just another gym session. He glanced at her, his smile soft but nervous.
"You sure about this?" he whispered.
Jenny hesitated before nodding. "If Phyna's planning something, we need to know what we're up against."
Frank gave a low whistle. "Didn't think I'd ever hear Jenny Evans talk about sneaking into the principal's office."
Jenny blushed, gripping her book tighter. "I didn't either."
The administrative wing was darker than the rest of the school, its doors locked, its blinds drawn tight. Jenny and Frank moved quietly, their footsteps muffled against the worn carpet.
They stopped outside Principal Larson's office. The nameplate glinted faintly under the hallway light. Jenny's palms grew damp.
"This is it," Frank murmured.
Jenny crouched near the door, examining it like one of her sketches—every detail, every line. "Locked," she whispered, pressing the handle gently.
Frank smirked. "No surprise there." He dropped his bag and pulled out something unexpected—a slim paperclip he'd twisted into shape.
Jenny blinked. "You know how to pick locks?"
Frank grinned sheepishly. "Let's just say… growing up with two older brothers teaches you a lot of things you're not supposed to know."
Jenny's heart thudded as she glanced nervously up and down the hallway. "Frank—if we get caught—"
"We won't." He knelt, working quickly. The soft clicks of the lock echoed in Jenny's ears like gunshots.
After a tense thirty seconds, there was a satisfying snick. The handle turned.
Frank looked up at her, eyes glinting. "Ladies first."
Jenny swallowed, her breath caught in her throat, and stepped inside.
The office smelled faintly of coffee and old paper. Stacks of files lined the shelves, the blinds drawn tight to keep out the afternoon sun. Principal Larson's desk was neat, except for a half-empty mug and a framed photo of his family.
But Jenny's eyes weren't on the desk.
They were on the corner.
"There," she whispered.
Against the far wall stood a tall filing cabinet. And beneath it—half-hidden, but unmistakable—a steel safe.
Jenny's stomach dropped.
It was real. Phyna hadn't been bluffing.
Frank let out a low whistle. "Well, I'll be damned. She wasn't lying."
They approached slowly. The safe was solid, with a keypad lock that blinked faintly red. Jenny crouched, running her fingers lightly over the cool metal. She imagined the secrets inside—test papers, confiscated valuables, maybe even money.
"Looks impossible," she murmured.
"Not for Phyna," Frank replied grimly.
Jenny looked up at him, her voice soft but firm. "Then we can't let her get to it."
Their eyes met, the weight of their task hanging between them. For the first time, Frank looked less like the golden boy everyone adored and more like someone caught between two dangerous choices.
Jenny's chest tightened. She wanted to protect him, but how?
"Wait," Frank said suddenly, his eyes narrowing. He pointed to a faint glint above the safe.
A tiny black lens.
Jenny's breath caught. "A camera."
Frank cursed under his breath. "Of course. He's not stupid. Larson probably checks the footage."
Jenny's heart pounded. If Phyna goes through with her plan, she'll be caught on camera. And if Frank's with her…
She stood quickly, grabbing his arm. "We have to go."
Frank hesitated, eyes lingering on the safe. Curiosity burned in him, but Jenny's urgency pulled him back.
They slipped out, closing the door carefully behind them.
The hallway felt darker now, heavier. Jenny clutched her book tighter as they walked in silence until they were safely outside, the cool autumn air rushing against their faces.
Frank finally spoke, his voice low. "You were right. She's serious. And if she pulls this off, she'll take me down with her."
Jenny nodded, her chest still racing. "Then we have to be smarter. We have to stop her before she even tries."
For the first time, Jenny saw fear in Frank's eyes—not of Phyna, not even of the safe, but of the choice looming before him.
And in that moment, Jenny made a silent promise.
She would protect him.
No matter what it cost her.
Chapter Seven – The Queen's Gambit
Phyna liked to think of herself as an artist.
Not with pencils or paints—that was for quiet little dreamers like Jenny Evans. No, Phyna's art was people. Their fears. Their secrets. Their weaknesses. She could sculpt anyone into what she wanted, if she pressed the right spot.
And right now, her canvas was Frank Harrison.
She stretched out on her bed, scrolling lazily through her phone. Her room was immaculate—candles lined the dresser, fashion magazines scattered in deliberate disarray. A glittering photo frame sat on her nightstand, though the smiling family inside wasn't hers. She had swapped the stock photo faces for ones cut from magazines, because the truth was too messy to display.
Phyna smirked at her reflection in the vanity mirror. The whole school thought she was untouchable—beauty, brains, confidence. And she was. Because she never played fair.
She twirled her hair around her finger, replaying Frank's hesitant expression in the library, his resistance softened by curiosity. She had seen it in his eyes. He wanted more than his golden-boy image. He wanted to be dangerous.
And she would give him that.
But Phyna wasn't blind. She had noticed Jenny hovering around him, whispering in corners, clutching her sketchbook like it contained the secrets of the universe. At first, Phyna had laughed. Jenny Evans, of all people? She was a background character, a shadow in the halls.
But shadows could be tricky things. They listened. They lingered. And sometimes, they got in the way.
Phyna sat up, her eyes glittering. "So Jenny wants to play," she murmured. "Fine. Let's see how long she lasts on my board."
She pulled out her notebook—not a school one, but a sleek leather journal she never let anyone touch. Inside were pages of careful notes, sketches of the school layout, lists of teachers' schedules.
And at the center of it all: Principal Larson's safe.
Most kids didn't know it existed. But Phyna had seen Larson open it once during a detention she'd "accidentally" earned. And she hadn't forgotten.
It wasn't just about the thrill of cracking it open. It was about leverage. Rumor had it Larson kept confiscated electronics, sealed envelopes, even emergency funds inside. Things that, in the right hands, could buy silence, power, and control.
Phyna tapped her pen against her teeth. The camera above the safe would be an issue, but not an impossible one. She already had a plan—a way to loop the feed with a stolen login from the AV club.
But timing was everything. And Frank was the perfect distraction.
The thought made her smile. He was so clean, so admired. When he fell, it wouldn't just shock people—it would shatter their faith in everything safe and ordinary. And Phyna loved nothing more than chaos wrapped in beauty.
She leaned back, picturing Jenny's worried face.
Jenny thought she could protect Frank. Sweet, naïve Jenny, stepping into a game she didn't even understand.
Phyna almost admired her courage. Almost.
But Jenny would lose. They always did.
Monday morning, Phyna walked into school like she owned the place. Heads turned as always—her laugh was too loud, her heels too sharp, her confidence too dazzling to ignore.
But behind her smile, her mind was already spinning, calculating, moving pieces across her invisible board.
She caught sight of Frank by the lockers, Jenny hovering nearby like a fragile shadow.
Perfect.
Phyna's lips curled into a smile that promised both sweetness and destruction.
The game wasn't just about the safe anymore.
Now, it was about breaking them both.
Chapter Eight – Allies in the Shadows
Jenny wasn't used to being looked at. She was used to watching: from the back row in class, from the far corner of the cafeteria, from behind the safety of her sketchbook. But now, every time she turned, Frank's eyes seemed to find hers.
And it unsettled her.
Because those eyes weren't just friendly anymore—they were searching, weighing, waiting.
By Tuesday afternoon, their secret alliance had become an unspoken truth. They didn't need to say it out loud, but both knew: we're in this together.
It began in the library again, where Jenny had once overheard the conversation that changed everything. Now, she and Frank sat side by side at a table near the back, their voices low enough to be swallowed by the hush of pages turning.
Frank leaned forward, tapping a pen against the edge of Jenny's notebook. "So. We know the safe is real. We know there's a camera. The question is: what's Phyna's move?"
Jenny pulled her sketchbook closer, flipping past drawings of flowers and faces until she reached the page she'd started filling with messy diagrams. The principal's office. The safe. The angles of the walls. Even the faint outline of the security camera.
Frank let out a soft laugh. "You've been busy."
Jenny flushed. "I—I just thought it would help to see it all. Visualizing things makes it easier for me."
"It's brilliant," Frank said simply, and the warmth in his voice made her heart flutter.
Jenny ducked her head, pretending to focus on her pencil. "The camera's the biggest problem. If she knows about it, she must have a plan. Maybe she's going to tamper with the feed."
Frank nodded. "AV club," he said thoughtfully. "She's probably got someone in there wrapped around her finger."
Jenny frowned. "Then maybe we need to… intercept."
Frank leaned closer, his shoulder brushing hers. Jenny froze, her breath catching. He didn't seem to notice the way her pulse spiked; his focus was sharp, his voice steady.
"You mean," he said, "get to the safe before she does."
Jenny looked up, meeting his gaze. The idea scared her. It was reckless, bold, everything she wasn't. But if it kept Phyna from pulling Frank down with her…
"Yes," Jenny whispered.
The word hung between them, dangerous and electric.
Over the next few days, their secret planning sessions became routine. Between classes, Frank would slip Jenny notes folded small enough to hide in her sketchbook. After basketball practice, he'd find her under the bleachers, pretending to draw but really waiting for him.
They talked about everything—routes through the school, the possibility of passwords, even the timing of Larson's late nights in his office. But beneath the logistics, something else was building.
Trust.
One evening, Jenny lingered near the gym as Frank finished practice. She watched him laugh with his teammates, his easy charm lighting up the room. And yet, when he spotted her, his smile changed—softer, meant only for her.
"You waited," he said as they walked out into the cool evening air.
Jenny shrugged, hugging her sketchbook to her chest. "I didn't want to go home yet."
Frank glanced at her, his voice quieter now. "I like this. Us working together. I don't think anyone really sees me, you know? They see… basketball, good grades, all that. But you…" He trailed off, searching for the words.
Jenny's heart squeezed. "I just see you," she whispered.
Their eyes met in the fading light, and for a moment, the air between them shifted.
But before anything more could pass, footsteps echoed from behind.
Both turned sharply—only to see Phyna leaning against the lamppost, her smile sharp as broken glass.
"Well, isn't this touching?" she drawled. "My two favorite people, conspiring under the stars."
Jenny's blood ran cold. Had she heard everything?
Frank straightened, his jaw tightening. "Phyna."
Phyna's smirk widened. "Relax. I'm not here to ruin your little… study session." Her eyes glittered as they flicked between them. "But you should know, Frank, some people aren't who they seem. Shadows can be just as dangerous as the light."
Her gaze lingered on Jenny, the words sinking like daggers.
And then she was gone, slipping into the darkness with a laugh that echoed long after her footsteps faded.
Jenny's hands shook as she clutched her sketchbook tighter. Frank's expression hardened.
"She knows something," he muttered.
Jenny nodded, her chest tight. "Then we have to be careful. If she suspects…"
Frank reached out, his hand brushing hers in a quiet reassurance. "We'll figure this out. Together."
Jenny's heart thudded, torn between fear and the warmth blooming in her chest.
Together.
But as Phyna's shadow lingered in her mind, Jenny couldn't help but wonder how long together could last in a game where every move was a trap.
Chapter Nine – Breaking Point
The school at night felt like another world.
The classrooms were hollow shells, shadows stretching across whiteboards like ghosts of forgotten lessons. The hum of the vending machine was too loud, the flicker of fluorescent lights almost menacing.
Jenny's heart pounded so loudly she was sure the whole building could hear it. She tightened her grip on her sketchbook as Frank eased the back door shut behind them.
"You ready?" he whispered.
Jenny swallowed. "No. But we're here."
Frank's grin flickered in the darkness, equal parts reckless and reassuring. "That's good enough."
They moved down the hallway, every creak of the floorboards making Jenny flinch. She wasn't built for this—the sneaking, the risk—but Frank's presence steadied her. His hand brushed against hers once, deliberately this time, and it was enough to anchor her trembling legs.
The administrative wing loomed ahead, darker than the rest.
Frank crouched by the principal's office door, pulling out his makeshift lockpick. "Cover me."
Jenny stood watch, her eyes darting to every corner, every shadow. Her fingers itched for a pencil, a way to capture the fear boiling inside her. But instead, she clutched the strap of her bag and prayed no footsteps echoed behind them.
The lock clicked open.
Frank pushed the door gently, and together they slipped inside.
The office was the same as before, but now, in the silence of night, everything felt sharper. The safe loomed larger, its keypad light blinking like a heartbeat.
Frank exhaled. "There it is."
Jenny nodded, her throat dry. She wanted to run, but she forced herself forward, crouching by the safe. She traced the outline of the keypad with her fingertip, her mind racing.
"If we can figure out the code—" she began.
Frank shook his head. "We're not cracking it tonight. Not without leaving a trace. This is just recon."
Jenny's stomach twisted. Recon. The word sounded too close to Phyna's world.
As if conjured by the thought, a sound echoed outside—the faint click of heels against tile.
Jenny froze.
Frank's eyes widened. "Phyna."
They doused the desk lamp in a panic, plunging the room into shadow. Jenny's breath came in shallow bursts as the footsteps grew closer, closer, until they stopped right outside the office door.
Silence.
Jenny clutched Frank's hand in the darkness, her whole body trembling. He squeezed back, firm and steady, his thumb brushing across her knuckles in silent reassurance.
The handle rattled.
Jenny's heart stopped.
But then the footsteps receded, fading back down the hall.
They waited—thirty seconds, a minute, two—before either dared to move.
Jenny exhaled shakily. "She knows."
Frank's jaw tightened. "Then we need to be faster. If she's planning something big, we can't wait around."
Jenny turned to him, her eyes wide. "You're still going to do this?"
Frank looked at her, his face caught between shadows and the faint glow of the keypad. "Jenny… maybe I don't care about the safe. Not really. But I care about not being played. I care about you being dragged into this. If Phyna wants to use me, I won't just sit back and let it happen."
Her chest ached, torn between fear and something warmer, sharper. "Frank…"
The silence between them was heavy, fragile. And then, almost without thinking, Jenny leaned forward.
Their lips met—soft, tentative, but real.
For a moment, the safe, the danger, the game—all of it disappeared. There was only the heat of Frank's hand against hers, the trembling certainty that she wasn't invisible anymore.
When they broke apart, Jenny whispered, "We have to end this. For good."
Frank nodded, his eyes burning with resolve. "Together."
Epilogue – The Real Heist
By Friday morning, whispers raced through the halls of Riverdale High. Someone had broken into the principal's office. The safe was untouched, but Larson had found the lock tampered with, the camera's feed mysteriously scrambled.
Students speculated, teachers grumbled, but no one had answers.
No one, except three.
Phyna sat at her desk, her smile faint, her eyes sharp. She had planned to make her move that night. She had even set her own trap. But something—or someone—had gotten there first.
Jenny Evans, she thought darkly, tracing a manicured nail across her notebook. The quiet girl had stolen her spotlight.
But Phyna wasn't finished. Queens never were.
Across the cafeteria, Jenny sat with her sketchbook open, Frank beside her. His laugh was softer when he was with her now, his smile less for the crowd and more for her.
Jenny knew they hadn't won—not really. Phyna would strike again. The safe was still there, the game unfinished.
But for now, she felt something she hadn't before: chosen. Seen. Brave.
Because maybe the true heist wasn't about safes or secrets at all.
Maybe it was about stealing each other's hearts in the shadows of high school.
And in that, Jenny Evans had won her first gamble.