Endless thoughts rake my mind about the man who shares my blood. If he’s known about me all this time, why did he never call? Why is it I’ve only learned about my last remaining relative upon his death? Restlessness consumes me, and I know staying in this bed won’t do me any good.
Tossing the blankets aside, I sit up and release a deep breath to calm my nerves. Seeing the academy in all its glory for myselfis a sure way for me to see if it is where I belong. If it’s where I’m destined to be. I owe it to myself, to my mother, to at least try.
I’ve always had an appreciation for old Gothic architecture. Walls made of stone so solid that nothing can penetrate their forces, even after decades of battling ruthless storms. The way the arches loom overhead, casting shadows amongst anyone who dares walk beneath them. The eeriness of secret passageways and endless staircases that lead to hidden rooms deep within the structure. It’s beautiful, and it’s exactly what I see while standing in front of the monumental school that, to my disbelief, now belongs to me.Hollowcrest Academylooms over the entryway in a metal so old it’s beginning to rust, and I can’t help but wonder how many generations of Gravenhursts have wandered past this threshold before me.
Squaring my shoulders, I lift my head high and walk into the school. On the outside, my posture is as solid as the stones that hold up these walls, but on the inside, I’m barely hanging on. The inside is astonishing, and I’ll admit, intimidating. To my surprise, the halls are calm and desolate. Only a few students roam about, sharing hushed conversations, and I’m thankful for the privacy to adapt to my new surroundings. This place doesn’t look anything like the image I had painted in my mind, its beauty an understatement in comparison to lesser prestigious universities. The whole place is immaculate. Not one scuff or single marking on the expansive black-and-white tile flooring.
Leaning against a wall, I take a moment to clear my head, my new surroundings overwhelming my senses, causing my anxiety to tense through my shoulders. I hear the professor dismiss hisclass for the afternoon, and I start to sweat, knowing that if I do not move now, I’ll be faced with a stampede of my new peers.
Turning on my heel, I’m about to make a run for it, thinking I’ve made a huge mistake by coming here at all, when I accidentally collide with a girl sporting the brightest purple hair I have ever seen. Her books scatter to the floor, and we trip over one another, toppling to the ground with an umph.
“Shit! I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? I’m so clumsy!” My apology can’t come out fast enough. She shakes her head and brushes off her t-shirt.
“No apologies necessary, I ran into you. I should be the one saying sorry.” She smiles, and I feel my embarrassment fading away.
“Let me help you with your books.” I gather them up and hand them to her, collecting the scrap papers that have flown out of place. I smirk, noticing the band on her t-shirt—Black Sabbath. Her attire stands out from the other students who now swarm past us. While most students wear carefully selected clothing that looks more formal, this girl looks like she just rolled out of bed and threw on the closest garment she could find. It’s refreshing.
“Thanks! I’m heading this way too. Walk with me?” She nods her head down the hallway. I look in the direction she gestured to and debate whether or not I should stay. As if seeing the skepticism written all over my face, she gives me a reassuring smile.
“You’re new here, right? First day?”
“Yes, I think so, I’m still deciding.” The girl’s eyebrows furrow, and she nods as if understanding, but doesn’t pry for any further details, and I’m thankful for it.
“Well, as schools go, this one’s pretty great, boring like the others but classier in a way.” She waggles her eyebrows. I chuckle, liking her energy already.
“I’m Mauve; real name is Margaret, but only my parents anddistant aunts and uncles get to call me that. To everyone else—Just Mauve.” We stop at a bulletin board, littered with flyers and academic club sign-ups, and she turns to me, waiting for me to tell her my name.
“Verena Gravenhurst,” I speak softly, “but I go by Ren.”
Her eyes grow wide in surprise,
“Gravenhurst? As in the Hollowcrest Academy owned by Ambrose Gravenhurst?”
I feel the heat creep up my neck as my eyes drop to the floor.
“That’s the one,” I state. “But please, just, Ren.” She nods in a quiet understanding.
“Just Mauve and just Ren. I like the sound of that.”
I smile, a genuine smile for the first time in ages and decide I’ve already grown fond of Mauve.
She leads me to the administration office, where I inform the receptionist that I’m visiting the academy on a trial basis. The staff greet me as if I’m royalty, which is odd, because I’m almost always overlooked. I don’t know if I can ever get used to the look of surprise I receive whenever I mention my family name around here. For the remainder of the day, I’ve been given an itinerary to follow that will help me make my decision. First on the schedule is a school assembly.
The auditorium is twice the size of the one from the community college I toured last summer. Students are seated row by row, enduring the dean’s ramblings, something that doesn’t quite hold my interest. Leaning against the doorway instead of taking a seat with the other students probably isn’t the best choice to keep prying eyes away from the underdressed visitor who so clearly doesn’t belong. I spot Mauve a few rows away, and she wavesme over to the empty seat beside her. Slithering through the rows of chairs, I plop down in the one next to her and give her the best smile I can manage.
“Welcome to the most unremarkable part of the academic system. School assemblies,” she whispers, rolling her eyes.
“It can’t bethatboring.” My smile grows at her theatrical whining.
Her eyebrows practically hit her hairline when she gives me a look that says,wanna bet?
Leaning back in my chair, I get comfortable, not knowing how long we’re going to be sitting here. The doors at the far end of the auditorium open, drawing everyone’s attention to the group of guys who enter, causing a commotion among the students. Chuckling to themselves, the group find their seats in an empty row near the front of the stage, which I can only assume was saved for them. They seem entirely unbothered, like they didn’t just disrupt the entire assembly.
“Nice of you to join us today, gentlemen.” The dean’s sarcasm doesn’t faze them in the slightest. A blonde guy in the centre of the bunch salutes him with a cheeky, insolent grin, but the dean pays him no mind and continues with his announcements. I nudge Mauve with my elbow, grabbing her attention.
“Who’s the blonde with the wicked smile?”
She peers over the shoulder of a girl sitting in front of her, and her content expression falters, turning into something sour.
