Sweet Deadly Lies (A Dark Academia Mystery) Watty Winner ✔️

Ten

In the morning, Iris and I stop by the office to find out more about the art club. From the sounds of it, students get together up to three times a week to hone their techniques and learn new skills. It's not only for painters, but for all visual arts—from ceramics to photography, and even film.

Unlike Ava, who excelled at all things creative, the only artistic ability I have is painting. Once upon a time I enjoyed it. With every brush stroke, my emotions poured out, and I found that those who viewed my work were able to pick up on the feelings behind them. Even as a child I felt accomplished when I'd finish a new piece. It boosted my self-confidence and inspired me to reach for new levels of knowledge and expertise.

Dad was thrilled Ava and I inherited his appreciation, and had taken to it so easily. But it's been a long time since I thought about that.

"Well, are you?" Iris demands as we head toward British Lit.

Her question jolts me back to the present. "Am I what?"

"Are you going to Art Club today? The secretary said they meet on Wednesdays."

I blow out a breath. "I guess."

She laughs. "Don't sound so thrilled."

"I just wasn't planning to join any clubs. They're stupid."

"The best way to learn about Ava's friends is to become friendly with them yourself," she says in an uppity tone. "You want to find out who wrote those letters, don't you?"

"Well, yeah."

She shrugs. "Then you have to do what you have to do."

I can feel her eyes drilling into the side of my face. I turn to face her. "What?"

"What's the big deal anyway? Art Club isn't the end of the world."

"Says you." When Iris gives me a frown, I add, "It's a long story, and I really don't want to get into it now—no offense."

"None taken." Her brows suddenly arch. "But this way you'll get to hang out with your hero."

"My hero?"

The corners of her lips tug into a smile. "Don't be coy. I saw the way your eyes sparkled when you told me Xander saved your life."

"They did not sparkle!" But heat swamps my cheeks all the same. "I just felt stupid he had to."

"Whatever you say." Yet she continues to prod. "He's cute, though. Kinda emo, but still... Am I right?"

I don't answer her question. "Why did you call him a black sheep?"

A gust of wind whips past us and Iris tucks a curl behind her ear. "He just doesn't fit in here the way most people do. He's a scholarship kid—not that there's anything wrong with that. But he marches to the beat of his own enigmatic drum."

When I open the door to the Liberal Arts Building, I let Iris in first and change the subject. "So, what's this I hear about an assembly on Friday?"

Iris' face lights up like the summer sky. "It's not an actual assembly. It's called the Back to School Bash. We have it every year following the first week of class."

Great. More school activities. I can feel myself cringe.

"It's not as lame as it sounds. We only have morning classes and the rest of the day is like a giant party. They bring in pizza—and not cheap cafeteria pizza, but real pizza—and we sign the unity wall. It's also when they introduce the sports' teams and establish a planning committee for Homecoming," she says, her voice tinged with excitement. "Okay, so maybe it is lame, but it's still fun."