3. Alex
Chapter 3
Alex
T he dense forest of towering pine trees blocked out most of the setting sun as the wooded area enveloped me in a sea of green, towering trees reaching toward the sky as far as the eye could see. The ground was blanketed in a colorful carpet of wildflowers, intermingled between the imposing trunks.
The air was filled with the earthy scent of pine needles. A breeze carried the smell of damp earth and decaying leaves as I bent down to further study my surroundings.
My fingers brushed against the soft, velvety texture of a patch of moss, then ran over the smooth, cool surface of a fern frond as I recall the last night I had with Clara before I left.
My sister had stayed up all night in my room, helping me pack. She was sorting through the odds and ends while occasionally handing me something to put away.
“Do you remember,” Clara says suddenly, “when we used to play hide and seek in here? And I always hid in your closet?”
“Yeah, and you always gave yourself away by giggling.”
“I did not!” Clara protests, mock offended. “You were just too good at seeking.”
I laugh, “sure, that’s what it was.”
“Well, at least I was better at one thing,” she says with a smile as she reaches for the gold chain around her neck. The necklace is adorned with a mix of charms, including a starfish, a smiley face, an arrow, cherries, and other unique additions. “You were always terrible at making things like these. Same with friendship bracelets.”
“Hey, I wasn't that bad,” I protest, but we both know it's true. My attempts at crafting bracelets were always subpar - mismatched beads and barely-secured strings.
Altair has had many negatives—in my short time here this find has been the only positive. Woods lined the school, which create an endless fresh playground for me to test my knowledge and explore new plant species. So far, they were all common and unremarkable, like a deck of well-worn cards, but in this game of botany I loved the hunt for the hidden gems of the forest floor.
Locks of my loose hair fall, tickling my cheeks as I observe a flower that stands alone among the grass, its delicate white petals stark against the green surroundings. Its stem is thin but sturdy, leading up to a small yellow center that resembles a tiny sun.
Interesting…
My head tilts up as a droplet of water suddenly hits my nose. Another one falls right after, and then a third peppers my face. Swiftly, I pull out my notebook and gently pluck the flower before placing the find beneath the pages and put my journal safely back into my bag.
The droplets come faster now as I move through the woods, the thick trees doing an admirable job of protecting me from most of the rain.
The main path stretches out before me, lined with more tall trees and lampposts that cast a dim glow in the gloom. The cobblestone pavement is slick and glistening, the wet surface reflecting the light of the burnished posts.
I curse, pulling my foot from a small puddle as water starts to seep into my shoe, making my sock damp and uncomfortable. The stone beneath my feet is uneven from years of footsteps.
The small brass eagles perched atop the fenceposts seem to be mocking me as I frown. Their smug, wide grins and glinting eyes add to the feeling of ridicule.
“What, is your giant buddy at the main gate the only one who bows?” I grumble to the stupid figurines.
My stomach growls, the sound echoing in the stillness of the surrounding area. It seems to amplify in my ears, drowning out any other sounds. Meanwhile, I swear the brass eagles cackle and laugh.
My stomach twists in hunger, making me wince and clutch at my abdomen. The only food I had today was from the assortment of fruits and crackers and cheese left in a welcome basket on my desk in my room. Tomorrow, I would need to find the dining hall, or I was going to starve.
I wonder if they’re still open at this time. What time is it anyway?
I realize that I won’t be able to check the time on my phone, because I no longer have a phone. It’s dark outside, I’m starting to get soaked from the rain, and now I’m alone without a way to track time. Could this night get any worse?
“Is it just me or does it smell like wet dog out here?”
Bile rises in my throat, as I realize the cruel irony of the situation. I chance another peak at those stupid birds perched atop their landings and they continue smirking down at me with their glossy, oversized beaks. And there are the boys from earlier, sneering just like the eagles, their arms folded, heads tilted in amusement. Or is it disgust?
“So are you trying to intentionally skip out on the assembly?” Sylvester, the blond one, asks disapprovingly. “That’s not very polite, especially since Chancellor Maxwell has declared you the guest of honor for tonight.” He shakes his head in mock sympathy.
Wait, what?
Something in my chest thumps as I process Sylvester’s words. Guest of honor? Chancellor Maxwell had mentioned the assembly at our meeting, but she made no mention of what it was about or that I was the main guest. Or maybe she had, and by that point I’d zoned her out? A mixture of confusion and dread washes over me, momentarily overshadowing my discomfort from the rain.
“What are you talking about?” I manage to stammer out, my voice barely audible over the patter of raindrops on leaves.
Camden steps forward, his smirk widening. “You didn’t know? The whole school is waiting for you in the assembly hall. Chancellor Maxwell wants to formally introduce the newest student to everyone.”
My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. I’m soaked, not dressed properly, and completely unprepared for any kind of public appearance. The thought of facing an entire assembly of students and faculty in this state makes me want to melt into the forest floor.
“You’re joking,” I say, even though I can tell they aren’t.
“We volunteered to come get you and make sure you arrive on time.” Bishop’s mouth twists into a cruel sneer, matching the ill intent in his eyes. His eyes were like emeralds on fire, both captivating and intimidating. I couldn’t look away, no matter how much I wanted to.
I feel my heart rate quicken, my chest tightening with something I can’t describe. The rain seems to intensify, as if nature itself is conspiring against me. I briefly consider turning back and running, but I know it would be pointless. These boys would only chase me down and make me look even more foolish.
“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” I mutter, running a hand through my damp hair.
Camden chuckles, a sound devoid of any real mirth. “Come on now. Don’t be shy. Everyone’s waiting.”
As if on cue, a distant rumble of thunder punctuates his words, making me flinch. And yet, these boys seemed perfectly content in the weather. Their jackets are thick and warm, unlike the t-shirt I was wearing.
“No.” I decide, much preferring to continue to stand in the pouring rain than go anywhere with them. Who cares if my hair was starting to mat to my skull?
Camden’s eyebrows shoot up, genuine surprise flashing across his face. “No?” he repeats, as if he’s never heard the word before.
“That’s right,” I say, injecting more steel into my voice. “I’m not going anywhere with you three.”
Sylvester steps forward, his expression hardening. “Look, we’re trying to do you a favor here.”
I snort at his response. Bullshit . “I don’t care. I’m not some puppet you can parade around for your amusement.”
Bishop’s stare remained cold and focused. “You don’t seem to understand your position here,” he growls, taking a step toward me. “This isn’t a request.”
An overwhelming wave of heat washed over me, my skin prickling and my pulse thickened. A deep sense of shame coursed through my veins, and I knew that if I looked closer, I would find the source of it. Bishop's mouth, with its intimidating curve, only added to my sense of vulnerability and confusion.
I take a step back, breathing through my nose to dislodge my unraveling nerves at being near him. The rain seems to intensify, droplets stinging my eyes as I try to keep all three of them in my sight.
“My position?” I repeat, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my throat. “And what exactly is that? New student? Unwilling participant in whatever game you’re playing?”
Bishop’s smirk falters for a moment, replaced by something darker. “Your position is whatever we say it is,” he says, his voice steady and flat. “You’re new here, so let me explain how things work. When we tell you to do something, you do it. No questions asked.”
I feel a surge of anger cutting through my irritation and puzzlement. Who do these guys think they are? I open my mouth to retort, but before I can speak, Sylvester lunges forward, grabbing my arm. I try to wrench away, but his grip is like iron.
“Let go of me!” I shout, my voice nearly drowned out by another clap of thunder. I jump as the rain falls like a silver curtain, obscuring my vision as it bounces off the ground and forms more puddles around me.
The droplets glisten as they slide down my shadow’s smug expression, highlighting the glint in his eyes. “What’s the matter, Prescott? You afraid of a little water?”
I swallow nervously—so what if I was?
In the grand scheme of things, I’ve faced much more terrifying situations than being caught in a rain shower. However, that doesn’t necessarily mean that I enjoy being drenched by water. I suppose I am technically capable of knowing what it takes to swim, as my father had attempted to teach me the basics one summer at the public pool with Clara. The instructions were simple enough: lay on your stomach, stretch your arms out, keep your head up, extend your legs, and kick your toes. It all seemed easy enough at the time.
The sound of splashing and laughter from other swimmer’s echoes around me, but my own panicked breaths drown out everything else. I can only hear the surrounding water sloshing all around me, competing with my own heartbeat.
“Alex, on your belly. Float and kick your feet…”
My skin prickles with goosebumps, and my muscles contract. My nose wrinkles at the memory of the harsh chemical scent of chlorine burning my nostrils and filling my lungs.
My fingers twitch, itching to press against my temples, as if physically trying to push the memory away, but I force them to stay at my sides.
“Let go of me,” I insist, tugging at my arm. “Let go and I’ll go. Willingly,” I offer, wanting free from Sylvester’s hand.
The boys exchange glances, clearly enjoying my discomfort. Camden steps forward, gesturing dramatically down the path. “After you, guest of honor.”
Sylvester lets go of me, and I give him a sharp look before cautiously stepping forward. But as I take another step, Camden sticks his foot out, forcing me to trip and land in a pool of muddy water.
I hit the ground hard, my hands splashing into the mucky puddle as I try to break my fall. Cold, dirty water soaks through my clothes, and I can feel grit and small pebbles digging into my palms. The boys’ laughter echoes around me, cruel and mocking.
For a moment, I stay there in the mud, my cheeks burning with humiliation. Then, slowly, I push myself to my knees, wiping my hands on my already ruined clothes.
“Oops,” Camden says, his voice dripping with false concern. “Looks like you slipped. Better be more careful.”
Anger surges through me, hot and fierce, momentarily overpowering my fear and discomfort. I clench my fists, mud oozing between my fingers as I struggle to my feet.
“You think this is funny?” I spit out, gesturing at my mud-covered form.
“It’s hilarious,” Sylvester says, barking out another laugh at my expense.
I feel my face flush with rage, my embarrassment turning into a burning desire for retribution. But I know I can’t take them on physically. I need to be smarter than that.
“You know what?” I say, forcing a smile onto my face. “You’re right. It is pretty funny.”
They exchange confused glances, clearly not expecting this reaction from me.
“In fact,” I continue, “I think we should all enjoy a nice mud bath. Don’t you agree?”
Before they can react, I scoop up a handful of mud and fling it directly at Camden’s face. It hits him square in the nose, splattering across his cheeks and forehead. For a moment, he stands there, stunned, mud dripping down his chin.
Sylvester’s laughter is cut off abruptly, replaced by a gasp of shock. I use their momentary surprise to my advantage, quickly grabbing another handful and lobbing it at Sylvester. It catches him on the shoulder, splattering his dark jacket and neck.
“If this got in my hair… You little—” Camden sputters, wiping mud from his face.
I don’t wait for him to finish. I’m already running, my feet slipping and sliding on the muddy path. I can hear them shouting behind me, their voices a mix of anger and disbelief.
My pulse hammers against my ribs as I sprint, adrenaline coursing through my veins. I don’t know where I’m going, but anywhere is better than going back there with them.
Altair’s building looms tall and menacing, towering over the rest of the campus like a symbol of authority as I decided to make it my safe haven. The pounding of my feet against the ground and the rush of wind in my ears drowned out any other noise, all that matters is the sound of my thumping heart and my breaths coming in quick gasps. The large front doors beckoned ahead with a promise of escape.
I come to a halt once inside, gasping for air as I hope I’ve lost my pursuers. Just when I think I’m in the clear, the sound of heels clicking against the tile floor alerts me to someone’s presence. Their disapproving tsk rings through the hallway as they approach. The figure is tall and slender, with critical eyes that narrow at my disheveled state. Unlike me, their clothes are crisp and professional, not a single wrinkle or stain in sight. Unfortunately, I can’t say the same for myself. Thanks to those boys, I’m now covered in thick, slimy mud from head to toe. It’s no wonder this person looks at me with such disdain.
“There’s no time to change,” they say decisively. “You’ll just have to go as you are.”
“You seem to have found our stray, Professor O’Donnelly,” a too-familiar voice says from behind me. I can sense the underlying tone of disapproval, but I mentally curse him for not even sounding out of breath. Sylvester’s demeanor is much friendlier in front of this witness.
“We were just accompanying Prescott to tonight’s assembly,” my shadow continues with another lie, not even a bit out of breath either.
While I looked like a drowned rat, the other three appear to have come out of the rain unscathed. Their dark clothing disguised any trace of their recent encounter with the downpour. Had the rain wiped away the mud I had flung at Sylvester and Camden? It seemed they were able to maintain their composure while I look like a soggy mess.
“Bishop Ashbourne, did she take a tumble down one of the cliffsides on her way over?” The older, female professor asks.
Ashbourne. Wasn’t that the name of the dormitory to the left of mine near the fountain?
“It was a clumsy misstep, I’m afraid.” Sylvester interjects, trying to appear sympathetic. “She has the legs of a short newborn giraffe.”
I bristle at Sylvester’s description, but bite my tongue. Now is not the time to defend my coordination. I was tripped, after all. Professor O’Donnelly’s shrewd gaze sweeps over me once more, her lips pursed in disapproval.
“Well, there’s nothing to be done about it now,” she says with a resigned sigh. “Come along, all of you. We’re already late.”
I try to refuse, but my objections are drowned out by the noise of people shuffling and chatting in the distance. She guides me closer to the entrance of the assembly hall.
“You won’t need this with you on stage,” Bishop argues, deftly removing my forgotten satchel from my shoulder before I can protest.
“Maxwell better not blame me for this,” O’Donnelly mutters, cursing under her breath as she continues to pull me along.
Just as we reach the entrance, the doors slide open, and I make one last attempt to turn back before being shoved inside. The doors close behind me with a resounding click, leaving me trapped.
“…tonight, we are honored to welcome back another Legacy family. With their return, all four founding families are now enrolled in a single grade level for the first time in decades…”
My hand clenches into a fist as I hear Chancellor Maxwell’s voice over the loudspeaker. But I’m not paying attention; my focus is on finding a way out of here. The dim lighting in the assembly room offers some cover for my appearance.
I scan the room frantically, looking for an escape route. The assembly hall is packed with students and faculty, all dressed in their finest attire. The contrast between their polished appearance and my mud-caked mess is painfully obvious.
Chancellor Maxwell’s voice drones on, but the words are just a buzz in my ears. The blood in my veins thins as I spot a side door near the stage. If I can just slip out unnoticed…
I take a tentative step forward, trying to blend into the shadows along the wall. Suddenly, a hand grips my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I turn to see Bishop, his face a mask of false concern.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he breathes into my ear, the heat of his words making my skin tingle. “You wouldn’t want to miss your big moment, would you?”
Before I can respond, Chancellor Maxwell’s voice cuts through the hall. “I ask all of you students to warmly welcome the newest member of our Altair University family. It is my honor to introduce you to Alexandra Prescott.”
The darkness of the assembly hall is suddenly shattered by a blinding light emitting an intense, white glow that engulfs me in its spotlight.
I blink rapidly, trying to adjust my eyes to the sudden brightness.
The single spotlight stands out against the dark shadows, illuminating me in sharp, very muddy detail.
A collective gasp ripples through the crowd as they take in my disheveled appearance. Whispers and murmurs grow louder, filling the hall with a rising tide of shock and curiosity. I stand frozen, caught between fight and flight, as hundreds of eyes bore into me. I can feel their stares burning into my skin, taking in every detail. The mud caking my clothes and hair suddenly feels like a second, suffocating skin.
Chancellor Maxwell’s voice falters for a moment before she regains her composure. “Miss Prescott, if you would please join me up on the stage,” she says, her tone a forced blend of warmth and authority.
My legs feel like lead as Bishop gives me a not-so-gentle push forward. I stumble, nearly falling flat on my face in front of everyone. Somehow, I manage to right myself and take a few shaky steps toward the stage.
The walk seems to stretch on for an eternity. Each step is a battle against my own body’s desire to flee. I can hear whispers and muffled laughter rippling through the crowd. My cheeks burn with humiliation.
As I approach the base of the stage, I notice a young woman with chestnut hair sitting at the beginning of the first row. Her face is twisted in disgust and she’s holding her nose. Her body shakes slightly, as if she’s trying to suppress her reaction to something before she speaks. “Ugh, I thought we were supposed to get a warning for flash floods!” Her words echo through the quiet space.
The audience erupts into laughter, and I feel my face burning even hotter. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor and vanish from this nightmare. But there’s nowhere to go. The spotlight follows me, a merciless beacon exposing every speck of mud.
As I climb the steps to the stage, I catch sight of Chancellor Maxwell’s face. Her smile is fixed and tight, her eyes darting between me and the audience. She’s clearly trying to salvage this situation, but I can see the panic behind her polished exterior.
“Miss Prescott,” she says, extending a hand toward me. I notice she’s careful not to actually touch me as she guides me to the center of the stage. “Welcome to Altair University. We’re…delighted to have you join us.”
The pause in her words is almost imperceptible, but it’s there. I can practically hear the thoughts racing through her mind.
I force a smile, my lips trembling as I try to maintain some semblance of composure. The spotlight feels like it’s burning through my skin, exposing every flaw, every insecurity. I open my mouth to speak, but my voice catches in my throat. The silence stretches on, becoming almost tangible in its awkwardness.
Chancellor Maxwell clears her throat, a sound that seems to echo through the hall. “Perhaps,” she says, her voice strained, “you would like to say a few words to explain your…unique arrival.”
A loud squelching sound echoes through the hall as I shift my weight. I look down in horror to see a puddle of muddy water forming around my feet, seeping out of my soaked shoes and clothes and hitting the stage floor.
The laughter starts again, louder this time. Even some of the faculty members off to the side of the stage are struggling to maintain their composure.
The lines around Chancellor Maxwell’s mouth become even more strained as I wish I was anywhere else.
At that moment, Bishop, Camden and Sylvester emerge from behind the curtain on the side of the stage. With an arrogant gesture, Bishop snatches the microphone from Maxwell’s hand, wearing an even smugger grin on his lips as she stands there frozen with her mouth wide open, still in shock.
Bishop steps up to the microphone, his smile dripping with false charm. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice smooth as silk, “I believe I can shed some light on our new student’s…unconventional entrance.”
My heart sinks. Whatever he’s about to say, I know it won’t be good.
“Perhaps she thought Altair was hosting a mud wrestling competition instead of a welcoming ceremony?”
The audience erupts into laughter once more, and I feel my cheeks burning all over again. I want to run, to hide, but I’m rooted to the spot, my muddy shoes seemingly glued to the stage.
The girl who had previously wrinkled her nose and looked down on me now bursts into a loud laugh, drawing more attention to herself. Her gaze shifts toward me, narrowing into a harsh, icy stare.
Bishop turns to me, his eyes glinting with malice barely concealed behind a mask of false sympathy. “Tell us, Prescott ,” he says, emphasizing my last name in a way that makes my skin crawl, “did you have trouble finding the showers? Or is this some sort of…fashion statement?”
I stand there, frozen, as Bishop’s words hang in the air. Laughter continues to ripple through the audience, but it seems distant now, muffled by the pounding of blood in my ears. My mind races, searching desperately for a witty comeback, a clever retort, anything to salvage this disaster of a first impression.
But nothing comes.
Instead, I feel a surge of anger rising within me, hot and fierce. It burns away the embarrassment, the shame, leaving only a simmering rage in its wake. My hands tense, nails digging into my palms. I take a deep breath, calming myself as I draw myself up to my full height.
“Actually,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady, “I thought I’d give you all a practical demonstration of what happens when you try to take a shortcut through—”
“The cliffs?” Camden cuts in, speaking into the mic Bishop holds. “Yeah, you took a nice little tumble on the way over, didn’t you?” He winks, his words stinging my ears with their double meaning.
Bishop’s grin widens, relishing in my discomfort. “Yes, our newest student here decided to take the scenic route on her way over. Tell me, Prescott, did you enjoy your impromptu mudslide?”
The audience’s laughter grows louder, more mocking. I feel my resolve crumbling, the brief spark of defiance extinguished by Bishop’s relentless assault.
Sylvester steps forward. “You know, there’s a perfectly good path that leads straight to campus. It’s clearly marked on all the orientation materials and maps. Didn’t you bother to read them?”
The audience laughs more, never-ending in their onslaught. These boys have outmaneuvered me again, turning what could have been a moment of redemption into another humiliation.
Bishop’s gaze is icy and calculating, reminiscent of a predator assessing its next meal.
Maxwell steps forward, her face a mask of forced pleasantness. “Well,” she says, her voice brittle, “I’m sure we can all appreciate Miss Prescott’s…enthusiasm for taking the time to explore our beautiful campus grounds. Perhaps next time, she’ll choose a drier route.” She lets out a strained chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension.
I stand there, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to form a coherent response. The weight of the students’ eyes in the audience feels suffocating, and I just want to be back in my room. Alone.
“This concludes our assembly,” Chancellor Maxwell announces, her voice cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. “Students, please proceed back to your assigned dormitories. Miss Prescott, if you’ll follow me backstage. Now ,” she says, lowering her voice on the last part for only me to hear.
The three boys managed to conveniently make themselves scarce the moment she regained control.
“Why aren’t you wearing your uniform?” she angrily asks once we’re alone and out of sight.
I glance down at my shirt and pants caked in mud, several small tears in my clothes I hadn’t noticed until now.
“We already went over this. You must wear your uniform to all classes and official school events. This also applies to campus-wide assemblies.”
I absentmindedly scratch at my temple, frowning as a clump of dried gunk falls from my hairline.
Maxwell’s expression twists in frustration. “Are you intentionally disobeying school guidelines?”
I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight. “No, Chancellor. I…I had an accident on the way here. I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t mean to what?” she interrupts, her eyebrow arching skeptically. “I’ve been lenient with you thus far, given your…unique circumstances. But this behavior cannot continue. You disrupted the entire assembly by showing up here looking like you’ve been dragged through a swamp. You may have gotten rid of the green in your hair, but that doesn’t counteract this behavior.”
“Let’s get one thing straight—I didn’t want to be here in the first place. And why aren’t any of those boys being held accountable for their actions on that stage?” I can’t help but cross my arms, feeling frustrated. “And you know what I find disruptive? Being forced to attend an assembly on a weekend. It feels like a punishment in itself.”
Her gaze sharpens, lips tight with irritation. “I suggest you watch your tone. You’re already on thin ice, and your attitude is not helping matters.”
I bite my tongue, realizing I’ve overstepped. But the frustration still simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.
“As for the Legacy boys,” Maxwell continues, her tone clipped, “they were simply engaging in some harmless banter. It’s part of the school culture here at Altair. You’d do well to develop a thicker skin if you hope to survive here.”
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
I want to argue, to point out how their “harmless banter” felt more like targeted harassment, but I know it would fall on deaf ears. Instead, I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but it doesn’t work because, again, what the fuck? She’s defending them?
I dig my nails into my hands, the pressure helping me hold it together. The injustice of it all threatens to overwhelm me, but I force myself to take another deep breath. I can’t afford to lose control now, not when I’m already in hot water and I’ve only just arrived. Altair was my last option, after my father had cut off all financial support for me.
“I understand, Chancellor,” I manage to say through gritted teeth, though the words taste bitter on my tongue. “It won’t happen again.”
Maxwell studies me for a long moment, her eyes searching my face, as if trying to gauge my sincerity. Finally, she nods, though her expression remains stern. “See that it doesn’t. Now go clean yourself up and be sure to change into your proper uniform tomorrow for class.”
I bite back a retort as I start to step away.
“Just a reminder,” she says, bringing up another point, and I inwardly groan. “Altair’s university colors are black, ivory, and gold. Brown is not an approved shade, regardless of your chosen dress code for the night.”
“Understood,” I say, nodding my head in agreement, to try to end this conversation quickly.
I raise my hand and give a two-finger salute before turning away from her. I am more than ready to leave this building, change out of these clothes, and ditch this school altogether. At least two of those things can be done with a quick walk. As for the third, I’ll have to wait a little longer.
As I leave the assembly hall, Sutton’s voice calls after me. She had been engaged in conversation with another student in the hallway, but she ditches them as soon as she sees me. “Hey, Alex,” she says eagerly.
I respond with a bland “hey” and continue walking.
To be honest, I wasn’t in the mood for any more talking. I had reached my limit for social interaction today.
She hands me a small handkerchief without explanation, the silk fabric a deep burgundy with delicate floral designs woven into it.
“Sorry,” she apologizes. “It’s all I had on short notice.”
“Thanks,” I say absentmindedly, not really paying attention.
“It’s for…well, you know,” Sutton says, pointing her finger in my general direction.
“I understand. Thanks again,” I mutter dismissively. I wasn’t trying to be rude; I was just exhausted from the events of the day.
“No problem,” she says, walking beside me. “Consider it a thank-you for this morning. Your idea to put the flyers under students’ doors was brilliant.”
“I’m glad I could be of assistance.”
As we continue walking in silence, I glance at her from the corner of my eye. She’s chewing on her lip, her expression difficult to decipher.
“You know, what Bishop, Sly, and Cam did to you earlier was completely wrong.” She stops abruptly and steps in front of me. “The Legacies can be…intense.”
I let out a deep sigh, feeling completely drained. “I appreciate you for trying to help, but honestly, I don’t need someone else to tell me what’s obvious.” It’s clear that what they did was wrong.
With a slight sidestep past her, I make my way outside. It’s done, over with.
As I step into the night air, I wrap my arms around myself in an attempt to warm up. It dawns on me, as I take in my surroundings, that I didn’t leave through the same entrance I came in through. On the bright side—if there is one—at least it’s not raining anymore.
This place was still a maze to me, and if we’re being honest, I wasn’t paying much attention to where we were going when Professor O’Donnelly dragged me toward the auditorium earlier. After the assembly, I followed a few students who seemed to know where they were headed in the hallway.
As I look around, I realize that I’d exited through the back of Altair’s main building. The rear view was just as stunning as the front, with its steep gothic roofs and pointed turrets. The only noticeable difference was a massive body of water instead of a well-manicured lawn.
The shimmering water spread out before me, its surface gently moving with the breeze. Beyond it, the moon cast different shades of deep blue, green, and gray across its surface.
The soft lapping of waves against the concrete shore created a soothing soundtrack over the calm water, until my attention was caught by laughter coming from somewhere nearby. My head turned toward the sound instinctively.
“Come on, Oliveri! I thought you broke records last year.” Camden hollers at the person splashing around in the water.
The figure’s arms and legs were a blur as they kicked and moved with fluid grace. Their body twisted and curved, propelling them through the water with impressive speed. Finally, they reached the dock and pulled themselves back onto solid ground.
Bishop threw a shirt to a drenched Sylvester, who quickly tugged it on before high-fiving him. Then, all three of them made their way back up to where I was standing.
Camden spots me first and asks, “What are you doing out here? Trying to blind us with that face?” The hatred in his voice is almost tangible, making my stomach turn.
Why am I still standing here? I should have walked away before they saw me.
“Did we not embarrass you enough? Decided to come back for more?” Sylvester taunts, slicking back his wet hair.
“I came to get my bag back,” I retort, suddenly remembering that Bishop had taken it earlier.
“Then go ahead and grab it,” Bishop says, as uninterested as ever.
“I would, if I knew where you put it,” I shoot back with a sneer.
“We hung it up for you.”
“Where?” I snap, my patience already worn thin.
“Might want to put on a wetsuit; the water is pretty chilly at this time of night.” Sylvester chimes in, shaking out his damp locks directly in front of me.
Jerk.
“I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Camden quips with a laugh as they all walk past me, treating me like an insignificant bug to be crushed under their feet.
I wait until they’re out of sight before taking hesitant steps down toward the water’s edge. I don’t want them to see me in yet another embarrassing state.
The stone dock is cool to the touch, mirroring the clean lines of the shoreline. The concrete is adorned with a mesmerizing pattern, every line and groove carefully carved into the solid material. In the darkness, I squint my eyes, scanning for any trace of my bag. Gentle ripples flow across the waves surface as it kisses the shore.
Where did those jerks put my bag?
A feeling of dread consumes me as soon as I lay eyes on it. My bag is suspended, out of reach, on a pole in the middle of the water. The only source of light is a faint glow coming from somewhere far away. A solitary arrow holds the strap in place, causing it to dangle precariously over the dark abyss below.
Anger clouds my vision, and I storm back to my dorm room. All I see is red, a boiling fury that distorts everything else in sight. My feet carry me without conscious thought until I reach the door and slam it shut with all my might. The frame shudders under the impact.
A pipe somewhere above me lets out a low groan, as if an old man’s joints are protesting against his weight. Its vibrations travel through the walls and fill the room, as if opposing my anger.
I feel the corners of my mouth trembling in response to the pipe’s judgmental noise. Its disapproval is too much for me to handle right now.
I collapse against the door, sliding down until I’m sitting with my knees pulled up to my chest. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I give into the desperate urge that has been echoing in my mind since I started walking back here.
I release a loud scream, letting out all my pent-up frustration and exhaustion into my arm. The weight of this place is suffocating, pulling at the threads of my being until they are stretched to their limit. Every aspect of this place fills me with hatred: the strict rules, the people who enforce them, and most of all, the separation from my sister and inability to make sure she’s okay. It’s all unbearable.
As I finish, my throat is parched and hoarse, dirt flavored dust and weariness lingering on my tongue. My head meets the door with a light thump, and my rational side takes over once again, overshadowing my emotions. My fingertips glide across my damp cheeks, discovering the coolness of tears that had escaped my notice. My bag and its contents were essential, but they currently lay over a canopy of water. How could I retrieve them if I couldn’t swim?
Altair University could officially suck it.