Chapter 55 Family Portrait

Chapter 55 Family Portrait
The next morning, the McFarland Wing smelled of fresh rain and Miri’s latest alchemical brew—a blend of roasted chicory and something that smelled suspiciously like energized cinnamon. The "Open Door" was already propped wide, allowing the crisp morning air to sweep away the lingering scent of last night’s pizza.
Before the day’s grind could truly begin, the Oversight Office—the glass-and-mahogany nerve center tucked inside the wing—was crowded with all six of them.
"Alright, the 'Aura-Cam' only has so much film," Puck announced, spreading a handful of shifting, shimmering Polaroids across the large conference table. "We need the one that says: 'We’re here, we’re functional, and we’re probably going to give the Headmaster an ulcer.'"
The group leaned over the table, coffee mugs in hand, their shoulders brushing.
Willow pointed at a shot of the group during the pizza feast, but Dean shook his head. "Too much grease, not enough 'Oversight' authority."
Echo picked up a photo of the "Shield" documents being sealed, but Leo gently tapped a different one. "Too much paperwork, Echo. That’s the work. We need the why."
Finally, Franklin reached into the pile and pulled out a shot from the previous evening. It was a candid moment just as the sun had hit the "Open Door." It caught them all in a semi-circle: Echo and Dean looking at a map, Willow and Puck laughing over a ledger, and Franklin and Leo caught in a quiet moment in the background, their hands clearly interlaced. Because of Miri’s modifications, the photo shimmered—you could see the golden sparks of the wing’s protection runes dancing in the air around them.
"That’s it," Franklin said firmly. "That is our family portrait."
They moved as a unit to the main stone wall. Echo stood tall, her focus sharp as she measured the space beside the massive, gold-leafed Official McFarland Charter.
"Right here," she decided. Dean stepped in, his steady hands helping her level the small, vibrating photo. When they pressed it to the stone, the enchanted adhesive took hold. On the left, the ancient, intimidating law; on the right, the moving, breathing heart of the wing.
With the photo set, the reality of the day finally tugged at them.
"I have to get moving," Puck said, grabbing his denim jacket. He leaned over and gave Willow a quick, messy kiss on the cheek. "Dad’s got a double shipment of Glimmer-berries coming in, and the shop isn't going to run itself. I’ll bring back the 'Victory Batch' for tonight's meeting."
Leo gathered his heavy leather satchel, adjusting the strap. He looked at the photo on the wall, then at Franklin. "I have a three-hour botany lab. No 'accidental' research help needed today?"
Franklin laughed, pulling Leo into a brief, firm hug that didn't care about the open doorway. "I think I’ll manage, but the wing feels a lot emptier when you're in the labs. See you for lunch?"
"Count on it," Leo promised, heading out the "Open Door" with a wave to the rest of the committee.
As the sounds of Puck’s boots and Leo’s steady stride faded down the hallway, the remaining four turned back to the mahogany table. The "Oversight" masks clicked back into place, but they felt lighter now. They had put a face to their Open Door.
Echo sat at the head of the table, her eyes scanning the new list of Dorset scholarship students. Dean sat to her right, already pulling up the frozen Sterling asset files. Willow began organizing the morning’s correspondence, her heart steeled for whatever the Bursar might throw at them next.
Franklin took his seat at the end, his hand briefly touching the spot on the table where Leo’s had been. "Alright," he said, his voice echoing with the authority of a man who finally knew what he was protecting. "Let’s talk about the Dorset-wing heating contracts. I have a feeling my father left those in a mess on purpose."
The door stayed open. The photo stayed glowing. The work continued.
The stone hallways of the Academy had always been cold, but today they felt like a gauntlet. As Leo moved toward the botany labs, the whispers didn't just drift; they clung to him like a freezing mist.
"Did you see them in the wing? Franklin actually lifted him up," a girl whispered behind her hand, her eyes wide with a mix of fascination and envy.
"It’s a strategic move," a boy from the legacy dorms sneered, loud enough for Leo to hear. "The scholarship is drying up, so he found a new way to stay in the Dorset good graces. Smart. Desperate, but smart."
But the ones that cut the deepest were the ones that questioned the reality of what they had found in the conservatory. "Franklin Dorset? Please. He’s been with the most beautiful girls in the valley. Leo must have some kind of leverage... nobody just changes like that overnight."
By the time the lab ended, Leo felt hollowed out. The "McFarland Protected" status that had felt like a shield this morning now felt like a target painted on his back. Every look felt like an accusation; every silence felt like a judgment.
He reached the quad, where he was supposed to turn toward the McFarland Wing for lunch. He could see the "Open Door" from a distance, a beacon of golden light and safety. But his feet wouldn't move that way. He couldn't go in there and face Franklin—not when the air outside was thick with the idea that he was a charity case or a manipulator.
Instead of heading for the pizza leftovers and the "family" laughter, he turned toward the back gardens. He walked until the voices faded, eventually sinking onto a weathered stone bench by the koi pond.
The water was dark and still, the orange and white fish darting beneath the lily pads. Leo sat with his head in his hands, his breath hitching. The urge to just... leave was overwhelming. He could pack his bag, catch the bus at the bottom of the mountain, and go back to a life where he was just Leo, not a "Dorset project" or a "scholarship scandal."
But then he remembered the way Franklin’s hand felt—steady and warm. He remembered the look in Franklin’s eyes when he’d talked about the "script" he was finally done playing.
Does he really care? Leo wondered, a single tear finally escaping and hitting the gravel. Or am I just the first person who was nice to him when his world fell apart?
The silence of the pond was heavy. He felt caught between two worlds: the safety of the wing and the cruelty of the school, and for the first time since the weekend, he felt like he was drowning.