The Bleak Beginning (Altair University #1)

11. Alex

Chapter 11

Alex

I wake up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes before grimacing at the stiffness in my back. Another night on this lumpy cot. At least it’s better than sleeping in soggy, wet sheets with a gaping hole in the ceiling.

Swinging my legs over the side of the makeshift bed, I wince again as my stiff muscles protest the movement.

Pushing aside a mop, I go to the door on a yawn, praying no one will be in the hallway if I emerge early enough. Not that I had any way of actually knowing the time. This stupid school didn’t allow cellphones, and I wasn’t about to drag an alarm clock in here. It’s the weekend, for crying out loud.

Sure, I may not be getting the best sleep, but I wasn’t about to derail the little I was by adding in an alarm.

No way, not today.

I wasn’t even a fan of them on a regular school day.

I press an ear to the door, just to be cautious. The hallway beyond seems eerily quiet. Perfect.

I wrinkle my nose as I tug at the collar of my pajamas. The scent of strong cleaning products lingers on my clothes. Clearly, I need to take a shower.

Reaching for the doorknob, I turn it, but it does nothing, so I jiggle it again, more urgently this time. It refuses to budge. Panic begins to rise in my chest as I realize I’m locked in.

What the hell? How is this possible?

My eyes dart around the cramped closet, searching for another way out. The small window near the far side catches my attention, but it’s barely big enough for a child to squeeze through, let alone me.

“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing off the wooden shelves stacked with cleaning supplies. “Is anyone out there? I’m locked in!”

Silence greets me. Of course, it’s early on a weekend. No one’s likely to be roaming the halls at this hour.

I bang on the door, hoping someone—anyone—might hear. “Help! I’m stuck in here!”

My fists pound against the unyielding wood until they’re sore. I slump against the door, sliding down to sit on the cold tile floor. How long will I be trapped in here? Hours? Days?

What will happen to Dolores?

As panic threatens to overwhelm me, I force myself to take deep breaths. Dolores is a snake plant, she can survive weeks without water.

A wave of relief washes over me, and I sling my ashy blonde locks into a makeshift bun at the nape of my neck to help me think more clearly. There has to be a way out of this.

I scan the shelves again, this time with purpose. Cleaning supplies, mops, brooms…wait. My eyes lock on a thin metal rod propping up one of the shelves. It’s not ideal, but it might work.

Scrambling to my feet, I yank the narrow object free, sending a cascade of various bottles tumbling to the floor. The crash makes me wince, but the noise is the least of my worries right now.

Kneeling by the door, I examine the lock. It’s old, like everything else in this decrepit university. I jam the rod into the keyhole, jiggling it with growing desperation. Sweat beads on my forehead as I work, the minutes ticking by agonizingly slow. Just as I’m about to give up, I feel something catch. My heart leaps into my throat as I apply more pressure, twisting the rod with all my might.

A satisfying click echoes through the tiny room, and the door swings open with a creak. I stumble out into the dimly lit hallway, gulping in the moldy air like a drowning woman breaking the surface.

Freedom. Sweet, sweet freedom.

The relief is far too short.

A wall of shadowy figures surround me, blocking me in once more. My heart plummets as I realize I’ve escaped one prison only to find myself in another. Each Legacy boy’s eyes bore into me, cold and unforgiving.

“Did you really think we would make it that easy?” Bishop snarls.

“After what you did?” Camden adds, and my gaze returns to the obvious hostility emanating from my shadow. Or was it more of a sparkle?

As I study his appearance, I notice how his skin seems to shine under the dull lights above us.

My lips curve into a coy grin. Suddenly my previous worries seem to melt away. “Take a late-night visit to my room?” I ask Bishop.

Sylvester’s eyes narrow, but I catch the flicker of uncertainty behind his bravado. “What are you talking about?”

The edge of my lip twitches. “You don’t know?” Now wasn’t this interesting? “I would be more than happy to show you the results the camera got—”

“Finish your sentence, Prescott. I dare you.” Bishop warns, voice low. Threatening.

The other two Legacies exchange confused glances, but I keep my focus on Bishop. His jaw clenches. Have I struck a nerve?

“You just couldn’t resist trying to go through my stuff, could you?” I press, my words calm. “Couldn’t resist a peek into the life of the girl who’s caused you so much trouble. Who has told you how many times she doesn’t want to play in your stupid Altair games, but you refuse to listen.”

Bishop steps forward, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Enough.”

I hold my ground, refusing to be intimidated. “No, Bishop. Not enough. You’ve been pushing me around since I got here, and I’m over it.”

Camden’s eyes dart between us, his brow furrowed. “What’s she talking about, Bishop? What camera?”

I can see the gears turning in Bishop’s head as he tries to maintain control of the situation. But I’ve caught him off guard, and the other Legacies are starting to notice.

“It’s nothing,” Bishop snaps, but his voice lacks its usual conviction. “She’s trying to distract us. Don’t fall for it.”

I seize the opportunity to drive the wedge deeper. I tsk my disappointment. “Too embarrassed to admit to your friends I bested you?”

Bishop’s eyes slitted, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “You’re delusional if you think a bucket of water and some well-placed fans make you superior to me. To any of us.”

“Am I?” I challenge. “Then why didn’t you explain to your friends what happened when you went into my room without my permission, hmmm?”

We stare each other down in a tense and deadly silence. The air is charged with an unspoken challenge, daring one of us to make the first move. I can feel the intensity radiating off of him, matching my own steely determination to come out victorious in this standoff.

A deafening gasp rips through the air, shattering the tension like a sledgehammer through glass.

“This is a female-only floor!” The RA’s voice echoes off the walls, sharp and cutting, as she bulldozes her way through our small crowd, her eyes blazing with fury and authority.

She hugs her fluffy robe tighter to her chest.

“What in the world are you doing here?” she demands.

Bishop’s composure falters for a split second before he regains his usual air of superiority. “We were simply having a discussion,” he says smoothly, not bothering to shift his gaze off mine.

“A discussion?” my RA scoffs. “At eight in the morning, in the hallway of the girl’s floor of the dormitory? I think not.” She turns to address the group. “All of you, out. Now. And you,” she points at Bishop, “don’t think I won’t report you to Chancellor Maxwell if you give me any trouble.”

My shadow’s jaw jumps, a fleeting look of frustration passing over his face at the mention of Maxwell. But he quickly masks it, his trademark smirk returning as he holds up his hands in mock surrender.

“No need for that,” he says coolly. “We were just leaving.”

As the others begin to shuffle away, Bishop’s eyes lock onto mine one last time. The look he gives me is a mixture of anger and something else I can’t quite place. A promise, perhaps.

The RA watches them go, her lips pressed into a thin line of disapproval. Once he’s out of sight, she rounds on me.

“And you,” she says. “What were you thinking, letting them up here?”

I opened my mouth to protest, to explain that they’d shown up uninvited and unwanted, but it snaps closed again because I realize I don’t care.

My patience has run out. I refuse to let any of the Legacies dominate me. Last night marked a pivotal moment in my plan for revenge, and regaining control of my life here at Altair.

Do I want any part of the Altair games? No, and I’ve made that abundantly clear time and time again, but the Legacies weren’t getting the hint, so I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine.

I may be a social pariah, but I’m done being a pushover.

The rain had held off, creating an overcast sheet of gray that blanketed our view for the day. The air was thick and damp, adding a chill to the already somber atmosphere.

Sutton had her sketchbook, and I had my eyes.

The wooded area around us is green and lush, a stark contrast to the gloomy sky above.

“Done,” Sutton says turning her sketchbook in my direction. “What do you think?”

I lean in to examine her drawing, my eyes darting between her detailed rendering and the actual plant before us. Her artistic talent never ceased to amaze me, the way she captured not just the form but the essence of each specimen.

“Atropa belladonna,” I murmur, recognizing the deadly nightshade’s distinctive berries and bell-shaped flowers. “Beautiful and lethal.”

Sutton nods, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Just like you,” she teases, nudging my shoulder with hers.

A distant rumble of thunder causes us both to look up. The slate-colored sky has darkened, promising the rain after all.

“We should head back,” I say, reluctantly rising to my feet. Sutton sighs, closing her sketchbook with a soft thud.

“Just a few more minutes?” she pleads, her eyes scanning the forest floor. “There! Name that one,” she says, pointing at the earth.

It had become a game, an unspoken competition between us. As we walked through the dense woods, Sutton would point at something and challenge me to remember its name and characteristics.

My eyes follow where her finger had gone. The cluster of yellow-brown mushrooms growing on the damp forest floor are huddled together beside the base of a tree stump. The tangled mass of gold spilling onto the surrounding area.

My mouth quirked to one side. Easy.

“Honey fungus.”

Sutton quickly flips open her sketchbook, her pencil flying across the page as she captures the mushrooms in swift, sure strokes.

“Armillaria mellea,” I added, recalling the scientific name. “Parasitic and highly destructive to trees, but edible for humans. Though I wouldn’t recommend trying it without proper identification.”

I crouch down, carefully brushing aside some fallen leaves to reveal more of the fungal network. “Fascinating organisms. They can spread for miles underground, connecting entire forests.”

“No way! Tell me more,” Sutton says, eyes alight with interest.

“They’re parasites. They infect and kill trees, then feed on the dead wood. But they’re not all bad. Some plants have evolved to live symbiotically with them.”

As I speak, the first drops of rain begin to fall, pattering softly on the canopy above us.

“We really should go,” I say, glancing anxiously at the darkening sky.

“Almost there.” Sutton’s pencil dances across the page for a few more seconds before she nods, satisfied. “Okay, done,” she says, closing her sketchbook and tucking it safely into her backpack.

I really needed to get my bag back.

We start back along the narrow trail, our footsteps muffled by the carpet of damp leaves. The rain is falling steadily now, creating a soothing rhythm as it filters through the canopy. Droplets cling to Sutton’s eyelashes, and she blinks them away, her face tilting up to the sky.

“I love the smell of the forest when it rains,” she says, inhaling deeply. “It’s so…alive.”

I nod in agreement, breathing in the earthy scent of petrichor. The forest did seem more vibrant in the rain, colors deepening and leaves glistening. As we walk, I find myself noticing details I’d overlooked before—the intricate patterns of lichen on tree bark, the delicate unfurling of fern fronds.

“Hey, I want to apologize again for breaking your camera. When I borrowed it, I had every intention of returning it.”

Right after I got the footage of Bishop’s glitter-covered face and posted it all over school. But I left that part out.

“It’s really alright, it wasn’t mine.” She shrugs, completely indifferent. “I doubt they’ll notice it even went missing,” she adds casually.

I feel a twinge of guilt at Sutton’s words. Not only had I broken someone else’s camera, but I’d also potentially gotten her in trouble. I open my mouth to apologize again, but a sudden flash of lightning, followed by a deafening crack of thunder cut me off.

Sutton jumps, her eyes wide. “Whoa, that was close!”

“Too close,” I mutter, picking up the pace. “We need to get out of here.”

We hurry to get back on the trail, the rain now coming down in sheets. Our path is becoming slick and treacherous, mud squelching beneath our feet. Another bolt of lightning illuminates the forest, casting eerie shadows among the trees.

We made it back to my dorm, tucking ourselves safely underneath the arched deck below the front entry.

“Wanna come up?” I offer, shaking out the excess dampness from the base of my jacket. Sure, I didn’t have the best option for a room right now, but at least it was warm…and mostly dry.

“Nah,” she says. “I think I’ll head back to my own room; I have some homework I need to catch up on before class Monday. Besides, Oliveri isn’t too far from here, and the rain isn’t that bad with my coat.”

Oliveri? So that’s the dorm she lives in.

Good to know, in case I ever have another flash flood in my room.

As we prepare to part ways, she pauses and looks back at me with a hint of hesitation in her expression. “Remind me again, what were you planning on using the camera for?”

I hesitate, caught off guard by her question. I hadn’t actually told her why I needed the camera in the first place, just asked if she knew where I could borrow one.

“For…research,” I answer vaguely, hoping she wouldn’t press further.

Extortion. Humiliation. Amusement. All three more accurate words, but she gets none of those.

But the pile of glitter on the other hand? Yeah, I’ll totally confess that I snuck into the art building and removed every last speck of sparkle I could find.

Sutton raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying my flimsy excuse. “Research, huh? Must be some pretty interesting research to risk borrowing and breaking someone else’s camera.”

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant. “You know how it is. Sometimes you’ve got to take risks for…science.”

She stares at me for a long moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. I can practically see the gears turning in her head, trying to piece together what I’m really up to. Finally, she seems to come to some sort of decision.

“Well, whatever it is, I hope it was worth it,” she says, then pauses. “Just be careful, okay? You never know who might not have your back.”

With that cryptic warning, Sutton gives me a small wave and heads off into the rain, leaving me standing there with a mixture of guilt and unease churning in my stomach.

I stand there for a moment, unsettled by her parting words. Does she know something? Or is she just being cautious? I shake my head, trying to dispel the paranoia creeping in.

Helpful, I decide. She was being helpful.

A tingling sensation floods my chest, but I ignore the discomfort, rubbing away my doubts with a swipe of my hand, and head inside.