My eyes sting with a fresh round of sorrow. I blink a few times and refuse to cry.
My nannies and caretakers over the years have always told me I have a charmed life. That I’m spoiled, loved, favored. That I’ll never know what real work is. And maybe that last part is true thanks to my trust fund. Maybe I am just a stuck-up brat who has everything given to her.
But this life doesn’t feel very charmed right now.
I keep thinking about Declan, even though I don’t want to. I keep replaying that first day we met, how I treated him like garbage. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve any of it. I was just mad that I was being sent to this school. I should have been nicer. Maybe we’d be real friends now, instead of fake ones.
A small bird drops down beside me on the bench. It’s too dark to make out what kind of bird it is, but it’s cute.
“Hello,” I say softly.
The bird looks up at me, or at least I think it does. It chirps a soft sound.
“How are you?” I ask, my sorrow temporarily forgotten.
It chirps again.
I hold out my hand, slowly, and the little bird jumps into my palm. I almost squeal in surprise, because I hadn’t expected that. But I hold still, trying not to scare it. This is some serious Disney princess stuff right here.
“Do you want to be my friend?” I ask, my voice so soft I barely hear it. I know it’s stupid to talk to a bird. I know it’s pathetic to ask a tiny little animal to be my friend. But it’s not like anyone is around to witness it.
The bird chirps again, and then it jumps up, flying in the air above me for a just a moment. “Where are you going?” I ask.
And then it flies straight at the vine wall in front me. I gasp as it disappears.
It straight up disappears!
“How in the—” I stand up and walk toward the garden wall. The bird couldn’t have disappeared, I tell myself. It only looked like it did. Maybe it’s right there inside the green garden wall. I reach out slowly and feel the lush greenery in front of me. The leaves are only a few inches thick, and then there’s a solid wall behind it.
Curious, I press harder, then I pull the leaves apart. The rest of the garden walls aren’t really walls—they are just really high bushes that are trimmed into wall shapes. You could get a pair of garden shears and cut your way through the walls if you wanted.
But this is very much arealwall. Brick, by the feel of it. It’s a real wall covered in vines that make it look like any other garden wall.
And that makes the bird’s disappearance even more of a mystery. I spread my hands out, gently pressing against the vines and leaves, feeling a hard wall behind every single place I touch.
Curious, I walk several steps one way, pressing the wall every so often. After about ten feet, the wall gives, and it’s a bush once again. I backtrack, finding where the brick wall starts. I walk all the way down the opposite direction and do the same thing.
The hidden brick wall is about the length of my dorm room. I gaze up. It’s only about seven feet tall, but seeing as I’m five feet, three inches, there’s no way I can see over it. Curiosity takes over me though, and I want to know what this wall is. Is it just some monument? Maybe a decoration that’s been taken over by the gardens? Or is it something special?
I don’t know why I feel this way, but I would bet all my luxury handbags that this isn’t just some wall. It’s special. I can feel it deep in my soul.
The bird appears again, flying just over my shoulder.
“There you are!” I say, taking a step back. I pull out my cell phone and turn on the flashlight. “Where did you go?”
The bird is blue, with yellow on its head, and it has a cute little round belly. The bird heads straight toward the wall again, but this time my light is shining on it. I watch him disappear. Then I bring the light closer to the exact spot.
And it’s open. A fragrant smell of roses fills the air when I lean against the wall, against this small opening. I can’t see anything, can’t get a better idea of what’s behind that hole without damaging the vines. That’s when I realize the earthy smell coming from the wall reminds me of the wooden bench I was just sitting on a few minutes ago.
I take a step back, then knock on the wall. It’s wooden.
This is a door.
The rest of the hidden wall is brick, but this isn’t. I feel around, scrambling to find the handle, the opening, that will reveal what’s behind the door. But it’s too dark, and my phone is flashing the low battery warning at me.
It’s just after three in the morning. If I were to get caught outside this late at night, I’d definitely get into trouble.
With a sigh, I turn off my phone’s flashlight and fall into darkness once again. Opening the GPS app on my phone, I drop a pin on the screen, marking this exact location in the gardens. The GPS obviously doesn’t have the gardens marked like it has the public roads, so the area on the map is just solid green. But now I have at least a slight idea of how to get back here in the morning.
