#BLACKWOOD ACADEMY# DYLAN'S POINT OF VIEW “You look like you’re about to murder someone,” Mason’s voice cut through my thoughts. I glanced up from my drink. He was lounging on the couch opposite me, absorbed in his phone, while Noah sat next to him, demolishing a mountain of fries. “I don’t,” I said.“Dude, you absolutely do,” Noah chimed in, looking up from his feast. I just rolled my eyes and looked away. We were in the private student lounge, the entire top floor of Blackwood Academy’s west wing. This place was usually off-limits to most students, but it was reserved for the crème de la crème – the heirs, the legacies, the kids of politicians, CEOs, celebrities, and billionaires. Basically, Blackwood’s golden children. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic view of the campus, with plush leather sofas and a fully stocked coffee bar. Giant screens flickered with live sports, stock market updates, and whatever else these privileged kids were supposed to c
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