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“Thank you for offering, but it’s okay, it’s just a coffee.”

He smiles sadly before pushing his cup toward me and taking mine instead. “You’ll have to get used to me making sure you’re comfortable. My students are a priority and their well being is one too.”

Kindness makes me uncomfortable. I know what to do with cruelty but this is harder to manage. So I smile quickly and thank him again.

We stayed there for a few minutes longer before taking the road back to the campus.

A song played during our ride.

I watched the city pass by the window, and every street carried a piece of life I don’t even recognize anymore. I grew up here, surrounded by water, by waves, by something people were always told to be afraid of. But the only sharks I had to be scared of were in my own home. And thinking about leaving makes me sick. Imagining saying goodbye to a lifetime of memories, of souvenirs, of everything that made me. I’m terrified of forgetting things I don’t even remember anymore and losing the parts of myself that are already gone.

It’s already there, that feeling that something important used to be here, inside my heart.

“You know, I can hear your thoughts,” Mister Caldwell says, looking straight in front of him.

“Close your ears,” I reply as I look at him.

Our eyes met for a brief instant and a faint smile greeted me.

“What are you thinking about?”

I shake my head, trying to suppress the thoughts from clouding my brain. “Nothing important.”

We arrived shortly later at the campus.

It’s late, classes are over, students are either walking around, or preparing themselves for tomorrow’s classes.

“Hope you liked the ride, Miss Vitelli,” he says unlocking the doors.

“Best ride ever,” I replied, taking my stuff out of the car. Oh, that didn’t sound right. “I mean, thank you.”

He stays inside, laughing softly like he read my mind, and nods, “I’ll text you for our next coffee session.”

“See you tomorrow, Mister Caldwell,” I say walking back to the building.

I hear him reply softly, “See you tomorrow, Miss Vitelli,” as I disappear behind the doors.

34

Damien

Play - Magdalena by A Perfect Circle

The unsaid boundary

She was quiet in the car. Absent, like her mind was going over memories that were long forgotten. I glanced at her briefly, noticing how her gaze stayed on the streets as we drove, tracking corners, passing lights, anything that existed there, like every turn meant something to her.

I didn’t ask why, simply because I didn’t know how to.

Whatever she was seeing out there didn't seem new, it was familiar. My student always looks sad and different when there is no one to perform for. And she hasn’t checked her phone once. Thirty minutes have passed and she’s done nothing but watch the city move behind the window.

I can’t help but wonder what this island holds for her.

I’ve seen that look before in victims who hadn’t realized they were victims yet. Victims who survived and lived to tell everyone how they did.

Mireya Vitelli might be brilliant, but she seems troubled.

I watch her closely and wait until she’s inside the building before getting out of the car myself. That’s when I see him. Spencer Porter, the headmaster, is standing near the entrance, hands folded behind his back with a relaxed posture.