The White House was supposed to be the most secure building in the country, but for Hanalei, it was just a very expensive cage with better wallpaper.
"A yacht party, Hani. A. Yacht. Party," Valerie repeated for the tenth time, sprawled across Hanalei's duvet like she owned the place. She was currently holding up two different sequined dresses, squinting at them with professional intensity. "Saint's parents have a boat that's basically a floating palace. There will be music, zero parents, and—most importantly—no 'emotionally constipated' boy staring holes into your soul."
Lyra was sitting cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by three different textbooks. She didn't even look up as she highlighted a sentence. "We have exams in two days, Val. Some of us actually intend to pass without bribing the Headmaster."
