Page 19 of The Bleak Beginning

“It is kind of drab, huh?” I say, speaking for my mute snake plant in the corner.

Dolores’s tall, green leaves stretch toward the ceiling, each one spotted with vibrant yellow markings like a painting. Its thin leaves are slightly twisted, as if reaching out for something.

I love her, and she’s the best thing that’s come with this room.

The numerous books on the desk seem to be taunting me for my bag being stolen last night—thanks again, Legacies. I reach for the lone textbook I need; its leather-covered and looks brand new. Its thick spine stands out amongst the smaller, thinner books lying next to it.

My nose scrunches as I tuck the heavy book under my arm. I glance down at my class schedule, the wordsAcademia Seminar: Exploring the Roots of Altairtyped in bold letters next to a building and classroom number.

I silently thank the book gods for making this my only morning class, because this text could seriously benefit from shedding a few extra pages. My arms are going to be jacked if I have to carry this thing around the rest of the semester.

Checking the time, I mentally scold myself and reach for the printed map of the campus. I only have ten minutes to find the building and classroom.

I dash out the door and down the steps to prove Chancellor Maxwell wrong. I can explore campus by running through it.

The scent of freshly cooked breakfast wafts through the air as a group of students exit the dining hall. The delightful smell of pastries and coffee make my stomach growl even louder.

“We have no time,” I inform my belly, upset about it too.

At least I now know with certainty where one building is, so Chancellor Maxwell can suck it. The dining hall is just past the dorms, but not directly in the center of campus.

My feet hit the pavement with urgency, moving faster and faster as I weave through the crowded grounds. Student’s faces blur as I pass them, their expressions ranging from curious to annoyed as they notice me.

Like hidden snakes, comments slither through the crowd, followed by muffled giggles that hang in the air like a lingering memory of the previous night. They trail behind me, whispering and teasing, a constant presence I can’t escape.

“Think she should try out for mud wrestling?”

“The mud was an improvement.”

“Dang, that girl is in a hurry to get back to her pen.”

“She looks better today, not great, but at least not like a swamp monster.”

With each step, the cobblestones beneath my feet feel harder, but I push through the discomfort to reach my destination, double checking the building before I head inside and away from the throng of insults and hushed snickers.

How these people can be in college and still act like middle schoolers is beyond me.

The clock on the wall reads 7:59 am. The hallway is empty, the closed doorways lining the walls standing long and silent.

I cross my fingers, hoping the room number is easy to find…or the professor is late. Bonus, if I could slip in the back without being noticed.

I reach the room easily, and as I sit down in the front row, the legs of my chair scrape against the floor, creating a high-pitched squeak. Awesome. As if everyone wasn’t staring at me before, I had to take the last spot available, dead center in the front of the room.

Altair keeps getting better and better.

This school has at least one thing going for it, they respected their architecture. The classroom’s circular layout is reminiscent of a cathedral, with oversized glass windows allowing a perfect view of the outside world, and long desks that seem to stretch into infinity. Lab equipment and beakers stood at attention in perfect rows, awaiting the next experiment.

I double check my class schedule and confirm I’m in the correct room.

The doors located at the front of the domed glass atrium open as Professor O’Donnelly enters and sets her things down on the podium.

“Thank you for waiting, students. Additionally, I wanted to thank each of you for your willingness to adapt,” O’Donnelly says to the room.

I guess the envelope taped to my door this morning with my updated schedule now made sense. The knock that followed that made me nearly tumble from my bed in surprise, was unnecessary though.

“We will be using the science lab for the next week,” she explains. “The assembly hall is typically used for this class, but it is currently under extensive cleaning.

“It would seem thick layers of grime have stained the carpet from yesterday’sheavy rain.” O’Donnelly’s eyes aim in my direction. “I might suggest an umbrella in the future, students. We receive our fair share of storms and inclement weather here at Altair.”

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