Graduation eve was bittersweet, the school buzzing with anticipation, the air thick with the scent of fresh paint and promise. Amber hadn't chosen between Westlake and State, her mother's pressure a constant weight. She worked in the art room, sketching a new panel—her and Charles, hands linked, a future unfolding. Charles prepared for Westlake's summer program, his dance gear packed, his eyes bright with nervous hope.
They exchanged gifts under the oak tree, the dusk soft around them. Amber gave Charles a sketchbook with choreography notes, its pages crisp, a canvas for his dreams. Charles gave her a charm bracelet, a dancer charm glinting in the fading light, a promise of their bond. "For you," he said, his voice soft, his fingers brushing hers as he fastened it.
Amber's mother softened, her praise for the triptych a rare gift, but she warned, "Westlake's a risk, Amber. Choose carefully." Charles's father skipped a pre-graduation dinner, his absence a wound, his silence a final rejection. Priya shared a photo of Lena sketching alone, her face haunted, a hint of remorse but no redemption.
Ethan's email arrived that night, vague but chilling: See you at graduation. Amber's resolve hardened, the critique wall's note echoing in her mind: Endings breed enemies. She held Charles's hand, their bond a shield, ready for whatever came.