The tall spires of the boarding school you have been enrolled in scale the hillside. Austere Academy. You are just a teenager trying to find a regular transition into adulthood, and now have to deal with the isolation of living away from home.

The students were all odd characters, each existing on two decisive and opposite extremes. There were no titles, but it was easy to determine who were the overachiever students of the school, and who were not. During your first few days, you mainly encountered the overachievers who were in charge of guiding you around.

Raziel Guinevere the long auburn-haired scholar, effortless leader of many clubs, and heart-throb of many of the school clubs. Florence Desrosiers the French blonde boy and crowd magnet with a heart of pure gold. Margot Moore, the party-girl southern belle with a love life nearly as nasty as her highly tuned manipulative personality. The strangest of all resembled none of the above. Sebastian Vasco, the complete troublemaker and nothing more.

Rumors circled him constantly, though all you ever saw him do was express his resentment from teachers and students alike from the back of the class. Some people said that he started fires with his friend Spencer, or took any kind of drug he could get his hands on with the class stoner, Zaid. He was also apparently linked to the known model Valentina Vasco, which he would deny furiously. There was even a rumor that he 'dated' the middle-aged school nurse, Ms. Lovejoy, but that seemed like a large stretch.

It was near mid-term exams, and you decided to sit down in the library. Considering the date, the whole place was full, along with every other study spot you usually frequented. There was one seat, though, near the dreaded Sebastian Vasco. You would have to resign yourself to your fate, and hope that he would not be a distraction. He was not studying, rather he was folding paper airplanes, and aiming them toward the librarian's desk.

Your prayers that he won’t talk to you are not answered. He frowns at you the moment you sit down. “What the hell are you doing? Do I know you or something?” He asks, sounding unimpressed with your seating choice. Not that it was your first choice by any means.