Page 22 of The Bleak Beginning

The only thing I truly care about retrieving is my logbook for recording information on my plants; everything else can be replaced. Plus, since Chancellor Maxwell took my phone, I have no need for anything else inside it.

Standing on the dock, the water below appears to beckon me toward it. I clench my shaking hands and blink away the tears that threaten to fall. I refuse to give those Legacies any more power over me, so I push back against their influence in this one small way. They don’t deserve any of my tears.

My breath is heavy and hot as I trudge back down the dock. I can’t bring myself to do it, not tonight. Every muscle in my body feels tense and constricted, weighed down by the weight of disappointment. A knot forms in my stomach, a physical manifestation of my failure.

My shoulders slump as I trudge away from my goal, my head hanging low. Defeat leaves a heavy and sour taste in my mouth. If I want to have any chance of retrieving my bag, I need to learn how to swim. But where can I do that? A pool seems like the most logical option. There has to be one somewhere in this place, with all this water around. I could sneak in and teach myself the basics. At the very least, I need to learn how to stay afloat.

The sound of a twig snapping breaks through my thoughts. I quickly scan my surroundings.

“Alex!” Sutton says, letting out a sigh of relief, spotting me. “Can you give me a hand?” Her arms are filled with large sheets of paper, covered in bright red paint. Her curly hair is messyunder her headband. She looks at me with pleading eyes as I stand there, unmoving.

I could swear I’d caught a whiff of cigarette smoke moments ago.

“Uhhh… a…little help…” she pleads, shuffling her stance. Her arms continue to strain under the weight, threatening to spill the colorful contents onto the ground.

“I got it,” I say. The papers rustle and crinkle as Sutton shifts her grip, handing over an armful.

“Thanks.” She sighs. “You have no idea how far I would’ve had to carry these if I hadn’t spotted you. Why are you out so late anyway?” she asks as I follow in step beside her.

“Oh, you know, just out for a late-night stroll,” I say with a forced smile, adjusting my grip on the papers. “Needed to clear my head.”

Sutton raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “At midnight? In what your wearing?”

I glance down at my black hoodie and shorts, realizing how ridiculous I must look. Admittedly, it wasn’t the best option for swimming. But on a deeper level, I knew I had no intention of entering the water tonight.

Sighing, I decide to give Sutton at least part of the truth. “Okay, fine. The Legacies took my bag and hung it from a pole over the water. I was trying to get it back, but…”

I trail off, embarrassed to admit my inability to swim.

Sutton’s eyes widen. “Those boys must really have it out for you, huh?”

“You could say that,” I agree.

“It’s probably because of the Altair Games,” she admits with a glance. “The Legacies don’t want you on their team.”

“Well, they don’t have to worry about that,” I say immediately. “I’d rather eat dirt than join them.”

Sutton chuckles, her papers rustling together against her chest. “I don’t blame you. Sometimes this place can be a lot.”

We round the corner outside of the art building, the smell of turpentine and oil paints wafting through the air.

“So what exactly are the Altair Games?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me. “Some kind of secret society thing?”

Sutton hesitates, glancing around as if checking for eavesdroppers. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say it’s a competition that’s been going on for generations. The stakes are high, and the Legacies take it very seriously.”

My mouth twists in disapproval. “Well, count me out. I have zero interest in joiningwhateverit is.”

Sutton chuckles, shaking her head as we continue to walk. “It’s not about whether you want to join or not. It’s about what you represent.”

My brow furrows, struggling to balance the papers under my arm. “What I represent? I’m just trying to get through the school year without drowning in homework.” Or, you know, actual water. But that part didn’t seem relevant.

“Exactly,” Sutton said, her voice taking on a conspiratorial tone. “You’re new here, and you’re different. The Legacies, they’re used to things being done a certain way. They’re used to being on top. But you? You’re an unknown factor.”

“Unknown how?” I ask hesitantly as she lets us inside the building.

“Do you really not know what you are?” she questions. “Did you not hear how Chancellor Maxwell praised you the other night at the assembly?”

I had been a little preoccupied to give her my attention at the time.

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