1. Hayden
HAYDEN
PRESENT, AGE NINETEEN
The coach bus jolted as it hit a pothole. I grabbed hold of the armrest, and the older woman next to me gave me a kind smile. The dark skin crinkled around her eyes as she did, telling me she made the action often.
I was used to looking for those kinds of signs—whether someone frowned or smiled often. It was a sort of early detection system, and it had saved my butt more times than I could count.
The woman lowered her knitting project. “These roads certainly aren’t for the faint of heart.”
I grimaced but let out a chuckle. “I’m glad I didn’t eat a heavy breakfast, that’s for sure.”
We’d been winding around mountain roads through Northern California for the past hour. Roads that hadn’t been especially well preserved.
The woman laughed. “My son is lucky I love him enough to make this trip to visit.”
My heart ached at that. It didn’t matter how many years had passed since I’d lost my own parents; I still got that horrible sucking pain when I was reminded of all I was missing.
I’d been lucky to land with a good foster family on the third placement.
A foster family who’d kept me all these years and let me stay with them even after I turned eighteen so that I could finish high school.
But even with that strike of luck and their kindness in the face of my tragedy, it wasn’t the same as the love of my own parents. It was always just a bit stilted, awkward. Like staying in a hotel for eight years instead of your own home.
“That’s nice. Where does he live?” I asked, forcing a smile.
The woman picked up her knitting again, her fingers moving the yarn deftly. “In Hamilton— just a few more stops. Where are you headed?”
“Ember Hollow. I’m starting at Evergreen University.”
It still felt unreal. After struggling for the first year after my parents’ deaths, I’d found my stride academically. I’d managed to get a full ride to the small, private university nestled in the redwoods.
My seatmate let out a low whistle. “Must be a smart cookie.”
“I’m okay, but I know how to study hard.” School had given me somewhere to lose myself. I couldn’t drown in grief if I was too focused on calculus equations or anatomy.
“Work ethic is more important than ability any day.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said with a smile. I was determined to do well here. To make all I could of the pre-med track so that I could secure another full ride to medical school.
As the bus rounded a curve, a zap of energy coursed through me. It was like static electricity on steroids or maybe being hit by lightning.
“Are you okay?” the woman next to me asked. “You went a little pale.”
I shook it off as a sign reading Welcome to Ember Hollow, Population 2013 came into view.
“I guess I have those new-school jitters.”
She gave me another of her warm smiles. “You’ll do great, honey. Don’t you fret.”
The bus jerked as it turned, and the driver reached overhead for his microphone. “Approaching Ember Hollow. First stop, Evergreen University.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I peered out the window as the thick forest gave way to a picturesque downtown.
It had an Old West vibe, a complete one-eighty from the Seattle suburb I’d lived in for the past eight years.
There were antique lampposts and even old hitching posts.
I couldn’t help but wonder if people still rode horses into town.
The bus turned again, away from downtown and onto campus. The sign for Evergreen University was carved into stone. It looked fancy, and a feeling of unease trickled over me.
I’d worked hard at my after-school job for the past three years. I’d saved up so that I’d have some extra spending money for college. But I certainly wasn’t rolling in it.
The bus slowed, making a hissing sound as it came to a stop.
“Everyone for Ember Hollow, Evergreen University.”
I stood and grabbed my backpack as the older woman rose to allow me out.
“You knock ‘em dead, honey.”
I grinned at her. “I’ll give it my best shot.”
Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I grabbed my duffel from the overhead compartment and made my way down the aisle. Two other passengers got off before me and made their way to where the driver was by the luggage bays.
I started toward campus before the driver called out.
“Don’t you have a suitcase?”
I turned, shaking my head. “I’ve got everything here.”
I didn’t have much to bring with me. The Johansens had tried to be as generous as possible, but they cared for a number of children and weren’t exactly rich. And I’d wanted to save money for the important things.
The driver gave me a wave, and I turned back toward campus. I scanned the buildings and swallowed hard. They were beautiful. Red brick with white accents. They looked important, stately, and I worried again about fitting in.
I adjusted the duffel on my shoulder before forcing my feet to move.
It wasn’t like not fitting in was anything I wasn’t used to.
I’d always been the odd one out. I’d had a few casual friends in high school, but no one I was truly close with.
It was as if my classmates feared that someone losing their family was contagious.
Looking around, I searched for signs of the student center.
I’d practically memorized the welcome packet from the number of times I’d gone over it.
I’d looked at the map of campus more times than I could count, too, but it was different actually being here.
Or maybe it was my horrible sense of direction.
I caught sight of what looked like a directory and headed toward it.
The paths through campus were brick, too, almost giving them a cobblestone feel. You could sense the history of the space all around you. I’d love to get lost in all that history and learn about it as I got used to my new home.
Stopping in front of the large map, I tried to orient myself. It took a second to find the You Are Here star and plot out a path to the student center, but the trek wouldn’t be that far.
A bubble of excitement rose inside me, and I grinned as I turned to head for the center. But instead, I ran smack into what felt like a cinder block wall.