St Bart's

"I guess you could say I was strange. But weird is normal here." For Rose normal isn't exactly....normal. They all share a secret, one that needs to stay a secret.
But with a mole in their midst, things could get interesting.


38. Known

Weekends just aren’t the same when you live permanently at school. Especially when you’re banned from leaving the grounds.

I steer clear of the gates, the paparazzi are still there though they’re losing the enthusiasm a bit now after days of camping in the chilly winter nights.

I dash into the practically deserted canteen, grab a warm slice of toast, swallow down the ridiculously huge vitamin and dash back out again.

Roan and Rin are god knows where doing I don’t want to know what and Leo is rarely seen before noon on weekends so I have a few hours to entertain myself.


Internet is blocked, venturing outside isn’t particularly tempting on the best of winter days let alone with cameras flashing and exhausted, frustrated journalists screaming at whoever walks past. I’m not much of a gamer and I read my stash of books long ago.

I stroll around the school aimlessly, hoping I’ll just happen to run into some action or a worm hole that will take me to a parallel universe where I’m actually having fun.


I check my phone.

No messages.

Oh, come on.

Soon the vitamin kicks in and I’m buzzing with energy with nothing to do.

Then the speakers hum into life.

“Meeting in the assembly hall in five minutes. Meeting in the assembly hall….”

Not my idea of fun but at least it’s something to do.

I can hear the message echoed again and again from the dorms as the speakers wired in each room blare out the same message, waking up those who dared try and have a lie in.

Not risking a St. Bart’s punishment by being late, I make my way there, remembering the last meeting was to tell us all that someone among us was a Mole and a traitor.

I sit next to Roan, talking quietly to Rin while they hold hands, near the back.

He gives me a lazy smile while Rin is oblivious to my appearance as she sits biting her nails.

“Any idea what this is about?” I ask shaking my hands to try and get rid of some of the vitamins energy.

Roan shakes his head, messy dark blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“No. It’s either about the Mole or an attempt to try and subdue all the pissed of sixth formers who aren’t allowed out the gates.”

I sit back and watch in interest as people rush in, the speakers now counting down the last sixty seconds. Some are still dripping wet, having jumped out of the showers, some still in pyjamas.

Including Leo.

He drops down into the seat next to me, hair charmingly messy and eyes half lidded, he wears dark blue pyjama bottoms and the same shirt he wore yesterday. I find myself wondering if that is because he fell asleep in it of he had to pull a shirt on because he wasn’t wearing one.

He groans and rubs his eyes.

“What the hell is this?” He mutters grumpily.

I can’t help but smile and try to resist messing his hair up further.

Leo can get funny about his hair.

“We don’t know.”

“You asked Roan?”


He lets out a whistling breath and slides to more of a sitting position.

“Then this can’t be good.”

Mrs. Oscar glides up to the front, short gingery brown hair tied up in a bob and pink glasses balanced on the end of her thin nose.

She clears her throat.

By now most of us have realised that none one knows what this is about so silence falls immediately.

My ears ring in the sudden quiet, only the heaters drone breaking the silence.

“Now, as you know, we have had reporters and journalists badgering us for the past few days due to the most recent information leaked by the Mole.”

A couple of glances are shot to the back row where we sit.

Leo, still sleepy, grumpy and now as nervous as the rest of us, makes a couple of them twist suddenly and painfully.

“Unfortunately, although we have been able to retrieve and destroy the files they had on this school, much of it is already public knowledge and, as you might expect, it is not something they have forgotten easily.”

I chew on my lip, something very unlike my Quirk settling in my stomach. Heavy and twitching, making me feel nauseous.

Leo is right, this couldn’t be good.

“So, we have decided that tonight, we will hold a live interview with a selected journalist where we will divulge as little as we can while still trying to sate their hunger.”

I expect there to be murmurs, excited, terrified whispers, protests…. anything.

The room stays silent.

We’re lost for words.

“However, the damage the Mole has done is looking largely irreparable for those of you labelled “Outsiders”.”

Leo, Roan and I all meet her eyes, Rin clings to Roan’s arm.

“You are our main concern due to the nature of your abilities. Civilians may not be understanding or accepting.”

We nod numbly and I taste blood as I bite too hard on my lip.

“Your years are the first to know of our discussion as we want you to be strong role models to the rest of the younger years who will be told in a couple of minutes and may not handle this very well.”

No kidding, we aren’t handling it brilliantly and some of us are legal adults.

“I have been told to assure you that we are trying our best to find the Mole and that we will shine you all in the best light possible.”

She doesn’t look our way but I’m sure the last remark is aimed at us. The Outsiders.

The Terrible Trio.

The Body Snatcher, the Mind Controller and the Sadist.

I almost jump when I feel Leo intertwine his fingers through mine, giving my hand a squeeze.

Rather than listening to the deathly, shocked silence as Mrs. Oscar leaves, I focus on his hand. With all the sports and guitar he plays, his hands are rough and callused, square palm, long fingers and short, curved nails.

Leo ducks his head, moving into my line of view.

“It’ll be okay Rose. I promise.”

It’s an empty promise and we both know it, but I appreciate him trying.

As if taking on cue, the room erupts into noisy chatter, cries and fears thrown around the room.

By the end of the day, the whole world will know everything there is to know about St. Bart’s.

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