Page 38 of The Bleak Beginning

“If you overlook the founding family’s greediness in commercializing the surrounding area to profit themselves,” he remarks, snidely glancing in my direction before turning his attention back to Atlas. “Then it would be that we’re basically our own island. We are at the mercy of the water. It is our greatest ally and our biggest enemy.”

Is this all true? I had no idea.

Had the Prescott’s really been this involved? Same with the Ashbourne’s, Olivari’s, and the Whitlock’s?

Atlas nods, his eyes sweeping across the gathered students. “Well put. The water is indeed our greatest ally and biggest enemy.”

The student beams his appreciation before subtly shooting me another pointed look. What? Like I personally had anything to do with this? So okay, my last name might be the same as one of those founding families, but I hadn’t been the one who’d personally made those decisions.

I shoot him back an identical look and he cowers away, putting his attention back on the teacher when I casually scratch my nose using my middle finger.

“Now,” Atlas continues, clapping his hands together, “let’s start with a simple exercise. Everyone, please step to the water’s edge.”

A chorus of shuffling feet follows his instruction, but I remain rooted to my spot, as far from the edge as possible. The girl with the expensive-looking shoes hesitates before letting out an annoyed sigh and inching forward, matching everyone else.

“Now, who can tell me—”

But before Atlas can finish his question, a thunderous splash erupts in front of us. A massive tentacle, glistening and purple, rises from the depths. Screams erupt from the class as students scramble back, nearly trampling each other in their haste to escape.

“Everyone, remain calm!” Atlas shouts, as the tentacle whips through the air, sending droplets of water cascading over the terrified students. I find myself frozen in place, oddly fascinated by the creature’s sudden appearance.

The girl with the expensive shoes lets out a high-pitched shriek as another tentacle emerges, this one adorned with glowing, bioluminescent spots. “My shoes! They’re ruined!” she wails, dancing away from the splashing water.

“Is this part of the lesson?” another student squeaks out.

“Ah, not exactly,” Atlas says.

Amidst the chaos, I notice a glint of something shiny caught in one of the Kraken’s suckers. Without thinking, I take a step forward, squinting to see something moving underneath the water.

Those weren’t tentacles. Were those…legs?

“Gotcha!” a voice suddenly calls out. The tentacles suddenly go limp, and an additional group of students bursts out from underneath them, laughing and high fiving each other as they stand in the waist-deep water.

“What in the name of—” Atlas sputters, his face a mix of confusion and relief.

As the water settles, the ringleader of the elaborate prank continues grinning from ear to ear. He’s holding up what appears to be an intricate puppet, with strings attached to the now-deflating tentacles.

“Sorry, Atlas,” he chuckles, not sounding sorry at all. “We couldn’t resist. We thought your class could use a little excitement.”

“Reith Elton! Consider your weekends booked, as you’ll be helping me pick up trash along the shoreline for the next three Saturdays.” Atlas hollers, his face red.

The girl with the expensive shoes looks ready to explode. “You absolute buffoons!” she shrieks, dabbing the few droplets of water that splashed on her blazer in the chaos.

A sudden whistle cuts through the air, and all eyes turn to its source. A man stood at the end of the boathouse dock. Perhaps he was a coach? I couldn’t be sure, but Bishop was standing next to him intently watching everything.

Of course.Of course!

He’s changed out of Altair’s standard uniform and into a tight-fitting short-sleeved shirt and shorts. “Reith has always been the least intelligent on our team, Atlas,” Bishop remarks nonchalantly.

Team? They were on rowing team together?

“Takes one to know one,” Reith mouths back.

Instead of responding, Bishop smoothly dives off the dock and several long seconds tick by before he reemerges at the shoreline and walks out onto the sand like it’s nothing.

The other students gasp and murmur in awe as Bishop emerges from the water, his clothes clinging to his muscular frame. He runs a hand through his wet hair, somehow managing to look even more attractive beneath that scowl he wore like a second shirt.

“Show off,” Reith mutters under his breath, but there’s a hint of admiration in his voice.

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