Chapter Two
The air at Hollowbrook Academy feels exactly the same.
The same stone-paved walkways, the same gothic architecture and looming spires.
The library doors creak, the fountain water thunders from a tiered art installation.
The same scent of instant coffee filters through cafeteria windows, punctuated by the low humdrum of newly-returned students preparing for another dull semester.
The same stresses, the same pointless gossip.
All that’s different in this scenario is me.
I walk through the courtyard like a stranger, trailed by my wheeled bag.
It doesn’t matter that my photo is in the entrance lobby, holding a gold trophy after bringing my lacrosse team to victory.
Nor that my medals are displayed in the student study hall, intending to inspire.
That’s not me anymore. I don’t have a trace of positivity or motivation left.
Someone decided to strip away everything that made me happy.
Bodies bleed out of the buildings like a virus, swarming through the network of pathways.
In reality, they are just adjusting to campus life ahead of classes starting on Monday.
In my isolated, brittle mind, they’re descending on me like a pack of rats hoping for a closer look.
The weight of their stares prick at my skin.
The whispered exchanges fill my ears. I have to force my next breath, my next step.
Force my ears to block out the hammering beat of my pulse.
Yet, my attempts are futile. I’m Meg O’Connor, the girl who had it all. Captain of multiple teams, due-to-be valedictorian, the one who had a limitless future. Now, she’s back, being forced to repeat the junior year she missed out on, and dragging her feet like a ghost of her former self.
I keep my head down, moving toward the main entrance, my gaze locked on the heavy oak doors ahead. The air coils around my throat like a noose, causing my fingers to tighten around the handle of my bag as I drag it across the uneven stone.
“Meg?” A voice stops me in my tracks. I already know who it is before I turn around.
Claire stands a few feet away, arms crossed over her cardigan, her perfectly cat-lined eyes flicking over me like she’s searching for something familiar.
She was my co-captain, my go-to for sneaking off campus to get late-night milkshakes when the stress of school became too much.
And she’s one of the girls who never bothered to check in on me.
“I—” She falters, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “I didn’t think you’d actually come back.” There’s hesitation in her expression, like she knows exactly what she did, but still wants to pretend it’s fine. That we’re fine. I arch a brow.
“Yeah, well. I like to disappoint.”
Her lips part slightly, surprised by the bleakness of my tone. I don’t have the energy to smile or make an effort for everyone else’s benefit. Claire tucks a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear and takes a step closer.
“It’s, um… really good to see you.”
I don’t know what I expect to feel at her words. Relief? Closure? Some kind of warmth that reminds me of what we used to be? Whatever it is, I remain unaffected. Shifting my weight, my chocolate brown waves fall over my shoulder and spill down my back.
“Sure.”
That’s all I’ve got left. No return pleasantries, no fake smiles.
Her face falls slightly, and I see the uncertainty.
She doesn’t know what to say or how to approach me.
In her defense, neither would I. I’m not the same person I used to be, and all I feel now is numb inside.
I find no satisfaction in these small exchanges, in proving people wrong.
Instead, I turn on my heel and keep walking, letting the conversation wither before it even begins.
Reaching the main entrance, I find myself merging with the freshmen.
The buzzing bodies and beaming faces with prospect shining in their eyes.
I received a brief and impersonal email from the Dean a few days ago, advising me that my old dorm space has been reassigned in my absence, and that I’ll need to attend orientation to find out where I’ll be staying for the remainder of my time here.
As if the last few years have been erased.
Maybe I should see this as a new start, like the rehab counsellor suggested.
I’d appreciate seeing it as anything other than a complete failure in the making.
I’ve missed so much, so many classes and interactions.
By dropping a year, I’ve put myself behind all of those I used to call friends, but the alternative was to drop out completely so here we are.
Weaving through clusters of people who barely register my presence, I step into the hall, the familiar arching ceilings stretching above me, the scent of polished wood and old books curling into my lungs.
It’s like stepping into a memory that doesn’t belong to me anymore. My phone buzzes in my pocket.
Thiago: Glad to see you’ve made it safely.
I stop so sharply, someone almost knocks into the back of me.
My eyes immediately fly upwards, catching the shining metal of a surveillance camera.
Of course the computer hacker couldn’t resist tracking me on my first day back.
I huff through my nose, as close to a laugh as I can muster, and type him a message back.
Meg: Are you stalking me?
Thiago: Only because you like it.
His reply is instant and for the first time all morning, the corner of my mouth twitches. Not a full smile, but something close enough. I turn my back so he can’t see my face burning through the camera lens.
Meg: I’m busy. Wait for me to text you with an update like a normal person.
Thiago: Sounds lame.
I roll my eyes, pocketing my phone and moving forward. The entire site is riddled with cameras, following a series of arsons a few years back. Aside from the dorms and the gym facilities, that’s all that’s modern here.
Freshmen linger in clusters, clogging the space and clutching folders with their pre-assigned schedules like they’re holding golden tickets.
Their voices are shrill, their movements erratic, and their optimism makes my teeth clench.
I manage to only trip over two bags whilst trying to get to the room allocation table, and I blame Thiago for lording over me as if I can’t manage a single morning in the big, wide world on my own.
“Hi, I’m—”
“Oh, Meg! Hey!” I lift my head, jerking my side bang out of the way.
I’d been so wrapped up in the names listed on the desk, I wasn’t paying attention to who was sitting behind it.
Harriett smiles warmly, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail and tied with a bow in the Hollowbrook colors.
It takes me a moment to collect myself and remember how to make small talk with those not trying to scrutinize me.
“Hey Harriett. Um…I’m told I have a new room,” I say awkwardly.
Harriett’s eyes fly down to her page, scanning the long list of names.
Then she flips the paper and continues her search.
Another page turn, another folder pulled out.
Finally, she makes an ‘O’ shape with her mouth and digs out a small envelope from the bottom of a box by her feet.
“Sorry about that, I didn’t get the memo.
You’ve been moved to a private building beside the staff quarters.
I haven’t been given all of the details, but hopefully there’s more info in here.
” Handing over the envelope, I purse my lips in an effort to hold back my sigh.
Harriett may not have gotten the memo, but I’m receiving it loud and clear.
Private building by the staff quarters, which happens to be the furthest point from the student dorms? Sounds like special treatment for the whack-job who was just released from rehab. Just perfect. As if I don’t feel isolated enough already.
I force out a clipped, “Thanks,” taking the envelope from Harriett’s outstretched hand. She gives me a thumbs-up and a warm smile that I don’t have the energy to return. Instead, I turn, shoving the envelope into my bag without bothering to open it yet.
Dodging around the freshmen, I head for the rear exit, content to disappear into the crowd.
The connecting building gives me an escape towards the east of campus, via the art department.
The scent of paint thinner and charcoal lingers in the air, causing my nose to twitch.
I should get used to it, considering I’ll be spending most of my time here from now on.
Lockers line the hallways and students cluster around them, catching up on their summer break and adjusting their schedules.
After this weekend, academy life starts again, whether we’re ready for it or not.
I walk quickly, keeping my head down, letting the noise of chatter and slamming locker doors blur into the background.
Conversations dip in volume as I pass, a few people nudging their friends and whispering behind cupped hands.
Actually, I’ve changed my mind. The sooner I can barricade myself in whatever hole they’ve decided to shove me into, the better.
The main path outside splits in two directions, one leading toward the student dorms and the other curving toward the staff quarters and faculty offices.
I’m about to turn towards the off-beaten route, avoiding the main quad at all costs, when a public bulletin board catches my eye.
Something about the bright flyers tacked haphazardly across its surface forces my feet to change direction, bypassing stone benches where students balance textbooks and disposable coffee cups.
I get closer, ignoring the announcement for club meetings, a tutoring sign-up sheet, and a lost-and-found notice featuring a sad-looking scarf, because in the center, the bold capital letters make my stomach drop.
LACROSSE TRYOUTS – TODAY
Unisex team led by Team Captain Everest Calloway
The words hit me like a slap. Everest. Fucking. Calloway.