She wasn't practical. She took the long way home to listen her music longer, and required a nightlight to sleep, but boy was she fascinating. Grace Whitney was a light tropical storm; palm trees swayed in her presence, and the ocean gave in to her gravitational pull, but in the end she always left a beautiful rainbow and the faint smell of tropical fruit. Sure, she caused the occasional mischief, but what was life without a little bit of drama?

At least, that's what she had thought. By the end of second year, it seemed that her little 'hobby' of reading and manipulating people had gone too far, and she was left with nothing. It hurt a little, but returning to Sydney was necessary. Unexpected things seemed to follow her wherever she went, just the side effect of Hurricane Grace. Shadows found her in every corner of every tropical paradise she'd created, until it wasn't clear whether the shadows were even a separate part of her. But if she'd learned anything over holiday, it was that like it or not Grace Whitney wasn't done at the Academy, and she sure as hell wasn't a quitter.

Which is why she chose Abigail. When she saw that her room had an empty slot, the cursor of her mouse hung over it for a long time. While it seemed like Grace Whitney had every ounce of confidence, issues like this made her hang back. As her cursor remained on that back room of the third floor she thought back to every moment she'd spent with Abigail. In the beginning, their relationship seemed like it would go amazingly-because from what she read during their first meeting she'd been a touch crazed talking to her little plant. But then she'd turned, and Grace had witnessed 'Abigail preparing for battle' before her first class second year and decided that while Tara seemed to be a goody two-shoes, Abigail had a fight in her that Grace just had to stir up.

And so she'd begun her tug-of-war game with her newfound friend's emotions, and just when she was in as her new friend she'd dropped her, just like everybody else. Only this time, the look of complete disgust and betrayal on her victim's face had actually been painful to see. And when they passed in the halls, or when she was trying to become Tara's friend and Abigail wouldn't even spare her a second glance…there'd been a sting there she didn't recognize. It was the actual, true pain of the consequences of her little games. No longer was Grace Whitney the darling little minx that toyed with people's minds…she was just Grace, looking for a friend where she'd lost her so long ago.

She can't help but think just how lucky she is to be given a second chance. With all of the damage she'd done to Tara last year, she knew that she'd be coming into the Academy absolutely friendless, and with no more little games to play. Lucy wouldn't allow her another mistake, and the ultimatum had been set when she'd begged to come back to Sydney.

Grace Amelia Whitney, this is your last chance. If I let you come back to the Academy you'll be checking in with me once a week so that I know you're doing well. You'll make suitable choices in your roommate and the people you spend your time with. You will spend more time training than any of your other extra-curriculars. At this point she'd rolled her eyes and scoffed a bit, and she thought for sure Lucy would slap her right then and there. Instead, she put her arm around her niece and pulled her close.

I know you miss your mother, Grace. You've missed her your whole life. But you don't have to end up like her. You won't end up like her. I'm here, and I'm going to take care of you. All you have to do to get my attention is say my name.

And, after all of the crying and hugging and promising she'd work hard, she'd put herself into Abigail's room. Because nobody else would impress Lucy Raine as a roommate more than the girl who'd worked her way to the top on pure dedication. So when Abigail wakes too early in the morning, or leaves the door unlocked by accident, she lets it slip. Her middle name has been changed tolenience, after all. She supposed that the more she worked toward this new goal of hers, the more she'd be able to hide Hurricane Grace and her shadow days.

…

She lays on her bed, feet dangling off one end while her head tips over the other. Her blonde ringlets feel free with the way they are swaying along with the impatience of her movements. Her feet kick, her back arches and collapses, and she sighs a light and airy sigh as she glances over at her roommate's empty bed.

It's been like this for a few hours. They'd just gotten out of class and had barely changed when Abigail had started rushing. Lately, she was always the first one out the door, changed into her casual clothing before most of the class was even in the changing rooms. And then, it would begin. After attempting to crack a few jokes about Miss Raine's complete impatience or weak Amelia's lack of a proper turnout Abigail would laugh halfheartedly, sling her bag on, and throw a quick goodbye over her shoulder. As much as she loved the girl, Grace couldn't help but find irritation in her newfound best friend's overwhelming maturity.

Each night they had 'Abigail and Grace Time,' which included dinner in the quad, an extra training session, and a nightly chat. The same thing, day in and day out. She appreciated the time, Grace, but there was something just so lawfully wrong about two Friday nights of Golden Steps marathons broken up by the nightly Sammy check-in.

So she lays on her bed wiggling her iridescent plum toenails, heaving heavy sighs of annoyance as she glances at the clock.

"Dis-Grace," The greeting catches her off-guard, and she nearly rolls off the bed at the booming resonance of his familiar voice. Grace sits up, huffing a flyaway curl out of her glimmering eyes. Her mischievous grin lifts the edges of her lips just a fraction of an inch.

"Dangle. What have I done to earn your company?"

"There's a rumor going around that you are doing absolutely nothing on a Saturday." His brows raise and he puts a hand on either side of her cheeks, shaking his head. "Just as I thought. You are completely ill."

She shakes off his contact and collapses back onto her bed, groaning. She covers her face with her blanket, hoping he won't notice the scarlet that's replaced the space his hands had been. Grace can hear a lowered chuckling before she feels the bed shift with his weight. She's sure it's his legs that have been rested over her stomach, and when she peers out of her makeshift hideaway his hands are tucked behind his head, which has found its way to her pillow.

"Make yourself at home." She teases, peeling the blanket away from her face. He's theatrical now, sighing and holding on to her pillow, pretending to snore. "Sure, go to sleep. My only company, sleeping on the job of entertaining poor, lonely Grace."

"At any rate, sober is a good look on you."

"Thanks," Her voice is softer then and he's afraid he's treaded on unwelcomed territory. He'd thought that after what had happened over the summer that she'd been alright with being honest with him. But then again this is just what he figured; little Dis-Grace always had another secret to hide. Even from him. But she turns off the darkness in her eyes as easily as a light switch and stares back at him with glimmering eyes and that upturned smirk. "You should try it some time."

"So what's the deal with this, anyway? I thought you and Abigail were like 'partners in crime' now." Grace scoffs, shaking her head in silent response. There's no other option, Ben thinks, than to pry. "You get along great, though."

"The only problem with having Abigail as a roommate is her annoyingly unwavering commitment to her tire-marked boyfriend."

"Grace!"

"Sorry. Too brutal?"

"The phrasing could have been changed up a bit." Grace looks guilty then, glancing over at her roommate's empty side of the room. It's like Sammy's glaring at her through the photo on Abigail's bedside table; a shot of them in the hospital, making silly faces at her selfie-cam. She looks away hurriedly, silently wishing her mouth had a filter installed.

"I'm just bored, Dangle. It's not like I'm asking to go to every party on the Sydney Harbor, I just want out! This whole 'I'm putting you on house arrest' thing has gotten pretty old."

"Grace," Ben begins, sitting up to rest an arm on her shoulder. It's the tone of his voice that makes her roll her eyes at him, as if he's her mentor and not the friend who'd witnessed it all. "I'm not trying to defend her or anything, but don't you think Luc-Miss Raine-has a right to be concerned? When I contacted her-"

"You what?" He flinches at the daggers that seem to appear in her bold blue eyes and knows immediately that he should have kept his mouth shut. "You contacted her?!"

"What was I supposed to do, Grace? Let you stay in Adelaide sell yourself to those clowns? Because that's what was going to happen. I know you don't remember much but I do. I remember every last bit of that night because I still wake up to nightmares about finding you, how you were-"

"Stop." Her voice cracks then, just as the foundation she'd built over best friend talk and extra training with Abigail. She'd chosen her for the comradery, sure, but also her innate skill of pretending that everything was alright. Because right now, Grace felt she would implode from the pressure of her secrecy.

"Grace, I-"

"Just do me a favor, Benjamin, and stay out of my life. Save the kind and caring act because I know that's all this friendship is."

With nothing left to say she leaves the room. Ben stands, stranded, and lets his eyes scan the photos on her wall. He missed the feisty, carefree dancer she'd once been. But he couldn't let himself feel regret for what he had done over holiday.

Lucy had to know, He'd convinced himself time and time again, after every missed call and unanswered text. Who knows what would have happened if she hadn't gotten herself out of Adelaide sooner?