After getting <b>changed</b>, the two of them headed out to the field. As the ss’s athletic coordinator, Plerce practically lit up when he saw Alessia <b>arrive</b><b>. </b>
<b>“</b>Alessia, finally! You’re here! Still carrying the ss sign for <b>us </b>this year, <b>right</b><b>? </b>You’re the face of our ss–once you walk out there, we’re a lock for best in show!” He pressed the card into her hands before she could even reply.
The sign, designed by one of the ss’s art students to match their custom shirts, stood out brightly in the sea of people and banners from every ss.
While they were busy lining up, parents and families started filing into the stands. A row of luxury cars pulled up at the gate, catching the attention of Crestview High students who craned their necks to peek through the fence.
“Whoa, those cars must be worth half a million each!”
“Half a million? That’s nothing. See the one at the end? I’ve seen it online–it’s worth over four million!”
“Four million! I’d take even a fraction of that. People really do live in a different world.”
“Hey, Zachary–doesn’t your sister go to that school? Howe you’re not at their field day?” Zachary’s seatmate asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
“Maybe his sister’s embarrassed to have her brother show up, Ignatius chimed in, smirking.
“One fence apart–his sister’s having a fancy sports day with the kids of millionaires, and her poor brother can only watch from here. Shame, really.” He shook his head, looking at Zachary with exaggerated pity.
Thement made Zachary’s seatmate squirm a little, regretting even bringing it up. Zachary, though, didn’t react–his expression stayed calm and unreadable, as if nothing could rattle him.
“Let’s go. The bell’s about to ring,” Zachary said quietly.
“Oh–right.” His seatmate/scrambled to gather his things and hurried after him. Ignatius, left without an audience for his taunts, scowled, but there wasn’t much else he could do.
“Come on, Ignatius. We’ve got a math quiz in a minute,” someone reminded him.
Ignatius clenched his jaw, feeling a dull ache <b>in </b>his stomach.
<b>1/2 </b>
<b>12.03 </b>
<b>“</b><b>You </b><b>okay</b><b>? </b>
<b>“</b><b>I’m </b><b>fine</b>. He took a few deep breaths, steadying <b>himself</b>.
<b>The </b>little drama passed in a heartbeat. Meanwhile, the owner of <b>that </b><b>four</b><b>–</b>million–dor car finally stepped out.
“Mr. Whitley, the board and other investors are waiting in the conference room.” Larkin opened the passenger door, and Cole climbed out. His tailored suit <b>added </b><b>a </b>touch of gravitas to his otherwise youthful face.
“What time does the field day start?” Cole asked.
“Nine thirty. The meeting beforehand is just a briefing for the investors on budget allocations–shouldst about half an hour.”
Cole checked his watch; the meeting would wrap up with fifteen minutes to spare before the opening ceremony.
On his way to the building, parents who’d arrived early recognized Cole and greeted him with practiced warmth. He smiled and nodded to each but didn’t linger, heading straight for the conference room.
Cole had barely disappeared inside when Ethan and Liam–brothers–walked through the school gates.
Since they’de on foot, a few people nced their way, but no one approached
them.
For most parents, this event wasn’t just about cheering on their kids. It was a chance towork with other influential families, or maybe seal a deal that had stalled–using their children as the perfect icebreaker. If there was nothing to be gained, there was no point wasting time on idle chat. Of course, a handful of parents were there solely for their children, but everyone’s motives varied–some more obvious, some less.
Ethan and Liam didn’t care about any of that. They found their seats as marked on their tickets.
As soon as they sat down, Liam spotted a familiar face in the crowd.