Auradon Prep

Liliana Adare wasn't expecting to fall in love with the enemy. After a chance encounter, Liliana's last year at "The Academy," a prestigious boarding prep school, turns into an unexpected romance with the biggest bully in school, the handsome and cruel Atticus Preston, she isn't sure she should believe her good luck. Practically overnight she goes from being one of the most bullied and reviled students on campus to being everyone's new darling. Little does she know it is all a game. The richest kids in school like to make other suffer for their amusement, and so they began "The Bully Games," a secret competition where the winner gets to position of "group leader" and the opportunity to shape the game for the year to follow. What Lily doesn't realize is that her new boyfriend is also this year's architect. And their relationship is anything but chance. Let the games begin! ___________________________________ I let my finger fall as the person's face slowly comes into focus and my brain realizes what I have done. Standing behind me is not a random stranger, it is a very particular person, one I've been trying to get out of my mind since yesterday. Atticus Preston, the most handsome, conniving, self-centered jerk on campus is staring down at me, his large hazel eyes full of amusement. "I'm sorry, were you trying to say something." “I ah…so…I…” I sputter, not quite able to catch my breath or find my words, lost in the golden glow of his eyes. “Atticus, I'm…” “Speechless, perfect,” his smile increases as he leans in close to whisper in my ear. “I feel that way when I see you sometimes too.” My heart rate increases and my breath quickens. Is he flirting with me? ...

Era la prometida de Ian Chávez, conocido como el "Príncipe Cisne", ofreció su posición de Primer Bailarín para casarse conmigo. Él, tan arrogante y solitario, sin embargo, ofreció la más absoluta sumisión en el escenario a mi coreografía de "La Corona Eterna". Tres años de estudio en París después, a mi regreso, descubrí que esa bailarina suplente, cuya espalda se parecía a la mía, ya se había adueñado de nuestro salón de ensayos privado. En la fiesta de bienvenida, Ian abandonó a los patrocinadores para correr detrás de la suplente, que lloraba. Tras el terciopelo del telón, escuché las palabras tiernas que nunca me había dirigido a mí: —Yamina, al principio te elegí porque eras su sombra, solo buscaba un sustituto. —Pero eres tan diferente, tu coreografía me embriaga, incluso más que la suya. —Solo asegurémonos de que ella no lo sepa antes de la función de despedida de “La Corona Eterna”. Desde el salón de ensayos llegaron gemidos sofocados y esa frase: —Te daré incluso mi posición de Primer Bailarín. Y justo allí, donde él una vez tomó mis manos y juró que Yo, Estrella López, sería su única alma gemela para toda la vida. Di la vuelta y me fui. De vuelta en el camerino y llamé al Sr. Díaz, su mayor rival. —Director Díaz, acepto el contrato para cambiar de compañía. Y por favor, prepáreme un regalo. Que la función de despedida de Ian se convierta en el mayor escándalo que el mundo del arte haya visto.

A month before the SATs, I, Jenny Reid, could see my score. Literally. It was just floating right above my head. But there was a catch. Every time I cracked open a prep book, my score would drop by ten points. But if I skipped a day of school? It jumped right back up by ten. So, I played the system. For a whole month, I barely lifted a finger. And on the day of the test, the number glowing over my head was a solid 1560. When the scores finally dropped online… I'd scored a 500. And the 1560? That was my little sister Patricia's score. My parents lost it. As punishment, they got me a grueling night-shift job at a local electronics factory. That first night, a bunch of guys I'd never seen before cornered me in the parking lot and beat me half to death. Fading in and out of consciousness, I heard my sister's voice right by my ear. "You just had to one-up me, didn't you? Thought you were so smart… but you never figured out I was the one controlling that number over your head." The truth hit me like a physical blow. The score had been her trick all along. I opened my eyes—and I was back. One month before the SATs. The number above my head read exactly 1300. "Hey," my sister said, all fake sweetness. "Want to study together tonight? We can go over the practice tests." I looked at the stack of papers in my own hands. Without a word, I pulled out my lighter and set them on fire right there in the driveway. "Exams are coming," I said, watching the flames. "I'm not studying." My score ticked up to 1310. My sister's face was this perfect mask of disappointment, but the second I turned away, I caught the sly smile she couldn't quite hide. She had no idea… the real performance, the one I'd been rehearsing just for her, was finally about to begin.