Page 1 of Paparazzi Perfect
1
THE CANOE
JFK AIRPORT, NEW YORK, USA
KARSON
Free. At last.
After countless nights studying, and bottomless cups of coffee blurring into early mornings, I’d finally graduated from Drake Academy, along with my best friend, Dyson. High school was done.
Finished. Forever.
We’d entered Drake as kids. Now, both six foot two, we stood shoulder-to-shoulder, ready to begin our journey to Harrison Island in North Queensland, Australia.
A few glorious months of freedom, island hopping, sunshine, and no rules awaited. After that, it would be time for the real world—as my father Karlos liked to remind me. I’d join the family business in Sydney while studying commerce. Not my first choice for how to live a good life… but some plans weren’t easy to escape.
Since I’d left Australia for boarding school when I was seven years old, I’d only been back for vacations. This time, I was going home for good.
I should have felt relieved.
Instead, something sat heavy in my chest… because I knew my freedom came with an expiration date.
***
The flight dragged as we watched movies, ordered every dessert on the menu, and took turns staring out of the window at endless stretches of ocean, desert, and wilderness below.
Eventually—while Dyson charmed the woman in the seat next to him—I reclined my seat, closed my eyes, and let my mind drift back a few years to the last time I’d believed my parents would be there for me…
Dyson slumped into his chair in the packed assembly hall. “Seriously,” he mumbled, pushing a lock of jet-black hair off his face, “how much more of this torture must we take?”
“We might have to stage a breakout.” I chuckled beside him. “I’m just glad it’s vacation time. Now I can finally head back to Australia. It’s been almost a year since I’ve been home.”
I’d been counting the days.
A tall, red-haired girl glanced over her shoulder from the row in front of us. Her gaze caught mine, a nervous smile flickering across her face before she quickly turned forward again.
The fair-haired girl beside her snuck a glance at Dyson, then looked back toward the stage, both of them dissolving into quiet giggles.
“I saw that smile you gave her. Careful, buddy,” Dyson said, eyeing me. “Keep that up and there’ll be a lineup.”
“Please.” I smirked. “It’s you they’ve got their eye on, mate.”
“You’re delusional,” he scoffed as the fair-haired girl snuck another look at him.
“Keep telling yourself that.” I chuckled.
The principal took hold of the microphone. Everyone winced as an ear-piercing squeal echoed around the hall before silence swept across the room.
“Young men and women of Drake Academy,” she began with her chest puffed forward, “congratulations on an outstanding year of academic excellence.” Her gaze brushed over the crowd like a radar scan checking for any sign of rebellion. “Each of you embodied the school philosophy: Oriri et Vincere. Rise and Conquer.”
Dyson rolled his eyes.
“You are the thought leaders, the next generation of global innovators,” she continued, but my attention drifted out through the tall windows lining the hall as her voice faded into the background.
I stopped listening.
Two more years. That’s all.
