Page 18 of The Bleak Beginning

The soft lapping of waves against the concrete shore created a soothing soundtrack over the calm water, until my attention was caught by laughter coming from somewhere nearby. My head turned toward the sound instinctively.

“Come on, Oliveri! I thought you broke records last year.” Camden hollers at the person splashing around in the water.

The figure’s arms and legs were a blur as they kicked and moved with fluid grace. Their body twisted and curved, propelling them through the water with impressive speed. Finally, they reached the dock and pulled themselves back onto solid ground.

Bishop threw a shirt to a drenched Sylvester, who quickly tugged it on before high-fiving him. Then, all three of them made their way back up to where I was standing.

Camden spots me first and asks, “What are you doing out here? Trying to blind us with that face?” The hatred in his voice is almost tangible, making my stomach turn.

Why am I still standing here? I should have walked away before they saw me.

“Did we not embarrass you enough? Decided to come back for more?” Sylvester taunts, slicking back his wet hair.

“I came to get my bag back,” I retort, suddenly remembering that Bishop had taken it earlier.

“Then go ahead and grab it,” Bishop says, as uninterested as ever.

“I would, if I knew where you put it,” I shoot back with a sneer.

“We hung it up for you.”

“Where?” I snap, my patience already worn thin.

“Might want to put on a wetsuit; the water is pretty chilly at this time of night.” Sylvester chimes in, shaking out his damp locks directly in front of me.

Jerk.

“I hope you’re not afraid of heights,” Camden quips with a laugh as they all walk past me, treating me like an insignificant bug to be crushed under their feet.

I wait until they’re out of sight before taking hesitant steps down toward the water’s edge. I don’t want them to see me in yet another embarrassing state.

The stone dock is cool to the touch, mirroring the clean lines of the shoreline. The concrete is adorned with a mesmerizing pattern, every line and groove carefully carved into the solid material. In the darkness, I squint my eyes, scanning for any trace of my bag. Gentle ripples flow across the waves surface as it kisses the shore.

Where did those jerks put my bag?

A feeling of dread consumes me as soon as I lay eyes on it. My bag is suspended, out of reach, on a pole in the middle of the water. The only source of light is a faint glow coming from somewhere far away. A solitary arrow holds the strap in place, causing it to dangle precariously over the dark abyss below.

Anger clouds my vision, and I storm back to my dorm room. All I see is red, a boiling fury that distorts everything else in sight. My feet carry me without conscious thought until I reach the door and slam it shut with all my might. The frame shudders under the impact.

A pipe somewhere above me lets out a low groan, as if an old man’s joints are protesting against his weight. Its vibrations travel through the walls and fill the room, as if opposing my anger.

I feel the corners of my mouth trembling in response to the pipe’s judgmental noise. Its disapproval is too much for me to handle right now.

I collapse against the door, sliding down until I’m sitting with my knees pulled up to my chest. My breath comes in ragged gasps as I give into the desperate urge that has been echoing in my mind since I started walking back here.

I release a loud scream, letting out all my pent-up frustration and exhaustion into my arm. The weight of this place is suffocating, pulling at the threads of my being until they are stretched to their limit. Every aspect of this place fills me with hatred: the strict rules, the people who enforce them, and mostof all, the separation from my sister and inability to make sure she’s okay. It’s all unbearable.

As I finish, my throat is parched and hoarse, dirt flavored dust and weariness lingering on my tongue. My head meets the door with a light thump, and my rational side takes over once again, overshadowing my emotions. My fingertips glide across my damp cheeks, discovering the coolness of tears that had escaped my notice. My bag and its contents were essential, but they currently lay over a canopy of water. How could I retrieve them if I couldn’t swim?

Altair University could officially suck it.

Chapter 4

Alex

“What do you think, Dolores?”

I take a step back from the mirror, my eyes scanning over the dark blazer that fits snugly over my shoulders and waist. The bold black and white stripes of my collared shirt peek out from under the blazer, perfectly matching the solid pleated skirt that falls above my knee.

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