Page 65 of The Bleak Beginning

His brown hair is windswept, and there’s an intensity in his eyes that immediately puts me on edge.

“Well?” I demand, sitting up straighter to distract myself from the tempting smells of freshly baked dough and sauce.

Bishop glances between Cam and me, his expression unreadable. But this is nothing new. The guy is as closed off as they come, actually, I’m pretty sure if you had a contest for the most enigmatic person on the planet, Bishop would win, hands down.

“Yeah, get on with it,” Cam mumbles around a mouthful of pizza.

Bishop’s lips twitch, the barest hint of amusement crossing his face.

He raises a single envelope, addressed to Alex, that’s been decorated with glittery stickers of smiley faces, cherries, and other random objects.

“I found her weakness.”

Chapter 13

Alex

Idecide to put my pride aside and march down to the building to rent-a-phone. Clara is worth it, and aside from not hearing from her all week, I wasn’t even sure she’d gotten my letter to begin with, so I had to be sure she was doing all right. Despite being seventeen years old, I still worry about her constantly.

It was almost 8:30 pm, which meant I only had about thirty minutes before I would be out of luck until next weekend.

Turns out the building was deceivingly simple in design, with several individual cubicles scattered across its expanse. Each phone booth is made of dark wood and adorned with intricatecarvings and glass windows. It’s kind of impressive, except for the eerie echo of outdated technology.

I step inside the first open one I find and dial my sister’s number.

“Did you get my letter?” Clara gushes excitedly after the first ring. “I customized it so you would know who it was from.”

Well, I guess that answers that question.

“Clara, I—” I start, but she cuts me off, her words tumbling out in a rush.

“I’ve been dying to talk to you! I couldn’t wait for your call. Dad told me about the weird rules. No phones, but writing letters back and forth is kind of cool if you think about it.”

I lean against the wooden panel of the cubicle, feeling a mix of relief and confusion. “Actually, I haven’t received any letters from you or dad yet. That’s why I’m calling.” I was worried, but I choked down that last part. I didn’t want her to fret.

There’s a pause at the other end, then Clara’s voice comes back, tone calmer this time. “I sent one days ago. I thought for sure it would have reached you by now. As for dad, he's out of town on business; I can let him know you called.”

I was feeling both relieved and a little foolish. “Well, at least now I know it’s coming. What did you customize it with?” I ask with a smile.

Clara’s laugh tinkles through the receiver. “You’ll see. It’s a surprise. But tell me, how are you? How’s Altair?”

I hear her voice hitch on the last word, like this place is some exotic fantasy. And maybe in her mind it was, but for me so far, it’s been anything but.

“Altair is…different,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “It’s not what I expected.”

“Different how?” My sister presses, her curiosity palpable, even through the phone line. “It’s got to be even better than how dad described it,” she gushes.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “It’s hard to explain. Everything here feels…old. Like we’ve stepped back in time.” My mouth twists. “No phones, limited internet, just weird communal call boxes.”

She’s silent for a moment, and I can almost hear her mind working. “That sounds…interesting.”

“It definitely takes some getting used to,” I admit. I didn’t want to have to lie to her.

I hear Clara take a deep breath, and I can picture her fiddling with the charms on one of her necklaces, the way she always does when she’s about to say something important.

“Listen,” she says, her tone suddenly serious. “Actually, never mind, I’ll just let you read about it when you get my letter.”

My heart stutters. “No, tell me,” I demand, suddenly anxious.

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