Page 16 of The Bleak Beginning

The lines around Chancellor Maxwell’s mouth become even more strained as I wish I was anywhere else.

At that moment, Bishop, Camden and Sylvester emerge from behind the curtain on the side of the stage. With an arrogant gesture, Bishop snatches the microphone from Maxwell’s hand, wearing an even smugger grin on his lips as she stands there frozen with her mouth wide open, still in shock.

Bishop steps up to the microphone, his smile dripping with false charm. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice smooth as silk, “I believe I can shed some light on our new student’s…unconventional entrance.”

My heart sinks. Whatever he’s about to say, I know it won’t be good.

“Perhaps she thought Altair was hosting a mud wrestling competition instead of a welcoming ceremony?”

The audience erupts into laughter once more, and I feel my cheeks burning all over again. I want to run, to hide, but I’m rooted to the spot, my muddy shoes seemingly glued to the stage.

The girl who had previously wrinkled her nose and looked down on me now bursts into a loud laugh, drawing more attention to herself. Her gaze shifts toward me, narrowing into a harsh, icy stare.

Bishop turns to me, his eyes glinting with malice barely concealed behind a mask of false sympathy. “Tell us,Prescott,” he says, emphasizing my last name in a way that makes my skin crawl, “did you have trouble finding the showers? Or is this some sort of…fashion statement?”

I stand there, frozen, as Bishop’s words hang in the air. Laughter continues to ripple through the audience, but it seems distant now, muffled by the pounding of blood in my ears. My mind races, searching desperately for a witty comeback, a clever retort, anything to salvage this disaster of a first impression.

But nothing comes.

Instead, I feel a surge of anger rising within me, hot and fierce. It burns away the embarrassment, the shame, leaving only a simmering rage in its wake. My hands tense, nails digging into my palms. I take a deep breath, calming myself as I draw myself up to my full height.

“Actually,” I say, my voice surprisingly steady, “I thought I’d give you all a practical demonstration of what happens when you try to take a shortcut through—”

“The cliffs?” Camden cuts in, speaking into the mic Bishop holds. “Yeah, you took a nice little tumble on the way over, didn’tyou?” He winks, his words stinging my ears with their double meaning.

Bishop’s grin widens, relishing in my discomfort. “Yes, our newest student here decided to take the scenic route on her way over. Tell me, Prescott, did you enjoy your impromptu mudslide?”

The audience’s laughter grows louder, more mocking. I feel my resolve crumbling, the brief spark of defiance extinguished by Bishop’s relentless assault.

Sylvester steps forward. “You know, there’s a perfectly good path that leads straight to campus. It’s clearly marked on all the orientation materials and maps. Didn’t you bother to read them?”

The audience laughs more, never-ending in their onslaught. These boys have outmaneuvered me again, turning what could have been a moment of redemption into another humiliation.

Bishop’s gaze is icy and calculating, reminiscent of a predator assessing its next meal.

Maxwell steps forward, her face a mask of forced pleasantness. “Well,” she says, her voice brittle, “I’m sure we can all appreciate Miss Prescott’s…enthusiasm for taking the time to explore our beautiful campus grounds. Perhaps next time, she’ll choose a drier route.” She lets out a strained chuckle, attempting to diffuse the tension.

I stand there, my mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, unable to form a coherent response. The weight of the students’ eyes in the audience feels suffocating, and I just want to be back in my room. Alone.

“This concludes our assembly,” Chancellor Maxwell announces, her voice cutting through the noise like a sharp blade. “Students, please proceed back to your assigned dormitories. Miss Prescott, if you’ll follow me backstage.Now,” she says, lowering her voice on the last part for only me to hear.

The three boys managed to conveniently make themselves scarce the moment she regained control.

“Why aren’t you wearing your uniform?” she angrily asks once we’re alone and out of sight.

I glance down at my shirt and pants caked in mud, several small tears in my clothes I hadn’t noticed until now.

“We already went over this. You must wear your uniform to all classes and official school events. This also applies to campus-wide assemblies.”

I absentmindedly scratch at my temple, frowning as a clump of dried gunk falls from my hairline.

Maxwell’s expression twists in frustration. “Are you intentionally disobeying school guidelines?”

I swallow hard, my throat dry and tight. “No, Chancellor. I…I had an accident on the way here. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” she interrupts, her eyebrow arching skeptically. “I’ve been lenient with you thus far, given your…unique circumstances. But this behavior cannot continue. You disrupted the entire assembly by showing up here looking like you’ve been dragged through a swamp. You may have gotten rid of the green in your hair, but that doesn’t counteractthisbehavior.”

“Let’s get one thing straight—I didn’t want to be here in the first place. And why aren’t any of those boys being held accountable for their actions on that stage?” I can’t help but cross my arms, feeling frustrated. “And you know whatIfind disruptive? Being forced to attend an assembly on a weekend. It feels like a punishment in itself.”

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