Jordan knew Dartwell's security system better than most teachers. Knew the blind spots in the camera coverage, the scuffed-up corners where the hall monitors never bothered checking, the shortcuts that shaved minutes off getting between buildings.

So slipping out of class mid-period, cutting through the east stairwell, and cracking open the janitor's closet to retrieve his supplies was basically routine at this point.

Today's mission: rig the vending machine to drop two sodas for the price of one.

Classic. Harmless. Victimless.

And if he maybe re-cemented his title as Dartwell's undisputed prank king before the new transfers got too comfortable? Well, that was just good tradition.

He crouched by the machine, twisting at the loose panel screws, tongue tucked into the corner of his mouth in concentration. The hallway buzzed faintly behind him: the slap of sneakers on tile, the distant clang of lockers slamming. He worked quickly, fingers slipping on the old metal—

Footsteps. Closer this time.

Jordan froze, wrench still in hand.

Two shadows fell across the floor.

Slowly, cautiously, he glanced up.

Sky and Tyler.

Both standing there like they'd caught a raccoon rummaging through the school's snack supply.

Tyler folded his arms across his chest, amusement flashing over his face. "Seriously?"

Jordan straightened a little, hands still awkwardly caught inside the machine. "This isn't what it looks like."

Sky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "You're trying to rig the vending machine."

Jordan opened his mouth to deny it, then immediately gave up. "Okay. Fine. It's exactly what it looks like."

He tensed, waiting for the inevitable You're dead, Wallace.

Instead, Sky just said, tone bone-dry, "You're doing it wrong."

Jordan blinked. "Excuse me?"

Tyler smirked. "You're about to jam the whole panel. You want it to malfunction, not flatline."

Jordan looked between them, suspicious. "You know vending machine sabotage?"

Sky shrugged like it was obvious. "Boarding school gets boring."

Tyler leaned back against the lockers, all lazy confidence. "Also, got banned from three dorms last year. It's a lifestyle."

Jordan stared at them for a beat longer, still half expecting a trap. "You're not gonna snitch?"

Sky looked vaguely insulted. "Where's the fun in that?"

Tyler grinned. "C'mon, man. We don't sell out prank royalty. We upgrade it."

Before Jordan could fully process that, Sky was pulling out his phone, opening the calculator app like they were about to run some black market soda heist.

"You want two sodas," Sky said, tapping quickly. "We can get you four. Maybe five."

Jordan hesitated for half a second then grinned. "Alright, show me your dark arts."

Ten minutes later, the hallway smelled faintly of fried circuits and bad decisions.

They had the machine almost fully rigged to misbehave: double sodas, stuck change, buttons that dispensed the wrong snacks. The math teacher wandered past once, and Jordan fumbled so badly pretending to tighten a bolt that he nearly knocked the panel clean off.

Tyler saved it with a smooth excuse about "routine inventory checks," while Sky blocked the view like a seasoned professional, casually whistling under his breath.

When the coast finally cleared, the three of them slid down the wall in near-silent laughter.

Jordan wiped his eyes. "You guys are worse than me."

Tyler nudged his shoulder. "You're welcome."

Sky leaned his head back against the wall, grinning. "We're saving your legacy."

It hit Jordan then, the way they bantered so easily. The way they didn't question why he was there or make him feel like an idiot for getting caught.

He hadn't expected this.

When the Phantoms transferred in, Jordan had assumed they'd be stuck-up boarding school brats. Thought they'd walk around like they owned the place, turning their noses up at the chaos of Dartwell.

Instead...they fit.

Different, sure. Sharper around the edges.

But not cold. Not fake.

Funny. Clever. Reckless.

Jordan found himself actually liking them.

And maybe, just maybe, trusting them too.

He thought back to the hallway earlier that day, the way Tyler had thrown the first punch without a flicker of hesitation, the way Sky had flanked Dominic like a silent shield.

He looked at Tyler now, smirking, relaxed, kicking at Jordan's shoe just to be annoying.

"You hit that guy pretty hard," Jordan said, more curious than anything.

Tyler shrugged, all easy charm but something heavier underneath. "Nobody messes with the girls."

Sky's grin softened, just slightly. Like it wasn't a joke. Like it never had been.

Jordan didn't say anything after that. He just sat there, watching them pretend to be casual while knowing they weren't pretending at all.

Maybe the Phantoms weren't the enemy.

Maybe they were something else entirely.

The vending machine behind them thunked once, spitting out two sodas at random.

Sky cracked one open and offered it wordlessly to Jordan.

Jordan took it without thinking.

Somewhere down the hall, a teacher's voice echoed, calling for late passes.

Sky stood, stretching lazily. "Next time," he said, tipping the can toward Jordan, "you let the professionals handle it."

Tyler snickered, already moving toward the stairs.

Jordan just shook his head, smiling despite himself, and followed.

Maybe, he thought, as they disappeared into the crowd, this year wasn't going to be so terrible after all.