Page 37 of The Bleak Beginning

I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. As the door clicks shut behind her, I slump, sliding down until I hit the cold base of my makeshift bed. The single bulb casts eerie shadows across the cramped space, making the cobwebs in the corners dance like ghostly fingers.

A rustle to my left made me jump. I squinted into the darkness, my pulse racing. A pair of beady eyes glinted back at me. Great. I had company.

“Don’t even think about it,” I mutter to the rat, pulling my knees up to my chest.

Dolores would never.

What was left of the night stretched on endlessly. Every creak and groan of the old building set my nerves on edge. I tried to doze off, but the hard floor and the constantdrip, drip, dripfrom somewhere in the darkness kept me frustratingly alert.

As dawn finally began to creep through the grimy window, casting a sickly gray light into the small closet, I began to envy the rat, at least he had a place to scurry away to. A cozy, warm nest, perhaps. Me? I was trapped here, a prisoner of circumstance and my own foolish choices.

Why had I agreed to come to this school again?

I left my makeshift sleeping arrangements and headed back to my dorm room to get changed. Thankfully, my closet was far away from the gaping hole in my ceiling. My clothes were dry, so I tugged on a uniform and tied my hair back before trudging off to my first class of the morning.

I was so disgruntled over my lack of sleep that I hadn’t bothered checking the class I was attending and focused only onwhere I needed to go, which is how I end up standing on the shoreline with a dozen other students.

What the hell?

“Well, don’t you look like a drowned rat,” a spiteful voice said from behind me, before ramming a shoulder into mine and continuing past.

I rub my temples, not in the mood for Bishop Ashbourne after my night. I’m tired, half of my room is destroyed, and oh yeah, this place sucks. At least he’d done me one mercy and kept walking, climbing onto the wooden pier and heading inside the boathouse.

One problem solved, the second laughing at me as it continues to try to lap around my feet.

I glare down at the water, taking a step back as it tries to surround my shoes, its ripples mocking me with their gentle splashes.

“Welcome, students, to Oceanic Reflection!” Our professor for this class says with a genuine smile. “I’m Professor Marks, but I prefer to go by first names, since I like to think of us as equals when it comes to learning about and protecting our water resources.”

Our professor, who if I had to guess, was in his mid-forties, has a lean physique. His long hair was tied back in a messy bun, and he wore a flowy shirt with loose-fitting pants and no shoes. His feet bare and exposed on the sandy shoreline.

“So what should we call you?” a girl with chestnut hair and overly glossy lips says with a curl of her lip.

There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn’t pinpoint what.

He doesn’t hesitate, his warm smile solid as he answers her less than polite question. “You can call me Atlas.”

“So, Atlas…what is this class about?” she asks, turning her nose up as a small wave laps at her expensive-looking shoes.She jumps back with a squeal, nearly crashing into the student behind her.

“First, I’d like to express my gratitude towards our row team for generously allowing us to use this space,” Atlas says, his gaze shifting to the building beside us.

Ah, so that’s why Bishop was hanging around here. I make a mental note to stay away from this side of campus and the long, narrow rowing boats at all costs.

The girl’s lips purse in frustration. “But how does being out here relate to the class?”

Atlas chuckles good-naturedly. “Well, as the name suggests, we’ll be learning to respect and appreciate the power of water through reflection, and what better way to do that than to interact with it directly? But first…” He claps his hands together, eyes twinkling. “Let’s start with the basics. Who here can tell me why water is so important, not only here at Altair, but as a whole?”

A few hands shoot up, mine not among them. I’m too busy eyeing the water suspiciously, wondering if it’s going to try to eat my shoes again. The last thing I want to do is get any closer to the treacherous liquid than needed.

“Yes, you there,” Atlas points to a male student with glasses perched precariously on his nose.

“Water is life,” the boy states matter-of-factly. “But here at Altair, it surrounds us and is the single most important thing to not only this university, but the town just outside the gates.”

The students’ voice trails off as Atlas nods encouragingly. “Very good, very good. And what is both the benefit and downfall of this?”

The student adjusts his glasses, clearly pleased with himself. “Well, Altair’s waters are not only the main form of transportation for many people coming in and out of the country by water, but also acts as a port for more than two-thirdsof the container ships docking in the region. It’s our defense, transportation, and source of income to many families, thanks to our scenic tourism.”

“Excellent. Now what are the negatives?”

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