A sound beyond the line

3

HILLARY

“Baby, is that you?” My mother called out from the kitchen.

I really didn't understand why she insisted on cooking when we had chefs available. I once heard the argument between her and my dad: Chefs are for special occasions, Brent. Then let them go and just hire them when you need them. No, what if I’m unable to find a booking space? And that’s how the conversation went when my dad brought up streamlining the household staff. My mother's logic was a fortress built of enthusiasm and preparation.

I walked into the kitchen, the scent of sautéed garlic and basil immediately wrapping around me.

“Baby girl, I’ve missed you! How was school? Did you make any new friends? Was there any problem?” She peppered me with questions, her apron perfectly tied, her eyes wide with excitement. Calm down, Mum, it’s just the first day.

I brought out my writing pad. School was fine and there’s no problem.

“Friends, though? Did you make any new friends?”

It's the first day, Mum. I scribbled, feeling that little internal knot tighten. Chase was my friend, technically, but I didn't know how to explain the whole, overwhelming friendship phenomenon yet.

“How did you find your classes? Or should I call the Dean and—”

Mum, I found the classes easily. I took a picture of the faculty map at the entrance, so no need to call the Dean.

“Are you sure?”

I nodded, firmly. Yes, I’m sure, Mum. I’ll figure this out on my own.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I didn’t even let you go upstairs and change. I’ve been so excited waiting for you, and I forgot that you’ll be tired and...”

Mum, it’s fine. I’ll just go upstairs, change, and come down for dinner.

“Okay, darling. I’ll set the table, and please call your father in his study on your way down.”

I carried my backpack and headed up the grand staircase. That's just how my mum was; when she was excited, she forgot everything else. But I loved that about her. I think it showed how deeply she cared.

I changed into comfortable lounge clothes and headed for the study door. I knocked.

“Come in.”

I opened the door. Hi, Dad. School was fine, and there’s no problem with my schedule. Mum said to call you down for dinner.

My dad, Brent Woods, smiled, putting down the financial report he was reading.

“You should have let me ask those questions first, princess. I want to ask how your day went because you will always be my priority, understand?”

I nodded. His quiet, constant support was the anchor I clung to.

“Now, let’s go and eat before Mama Bear hunts us down.”

Thirty minutes later, the dining room was full of the comfortable sounds of a family meal.

“The food tastes really good, Love,” my dad complimented, exactly on cue. If there’s anything that makes my mum happy, it’s compliments; she lives for them.

“Do you like it, baby?” she asked, looking at me expectantly.

I gave her a firm thumbs up, and she started beaming like she’d won the lottery. I’d learned from her that it’s the little things that count.

We finished our food, and I got up to clear my place and do the dishes. When I was done, I told my parents goodnight and headed upstairs. Just as I reached the top landing, my mum appeared behind me.

“Hey, baby, I came to remind you to set multiple alarms, pack your books now, and everything you’ll need so you won’t forget anything tomorrow, and it will be easier for—”

“Natasha, leave her alone! She’s an adult!” My dad yelled from his study across the hall.

“She’s an adult, but she’s still my baby!” Mum yelled right back, completely unfazed.

I understand, Mum. I will.

“Goodnight, love.”

My mum was a handful, I knew, but I loved her that way.

My room was dark, but I didn't reach for the light. I was tossing and turning, unable to settle. I had already had the nightmare: the crushing metal, the smell of burnt rubber, the deafening sound of a truck hitting the car. The memory was fragmented, illogical, and utterly terrifying. It was the only memory I had before the Woods adopted me. I had gone for therapy, but it did nothing, and I didn't want to get my parents worried, so they didn't know I still got them.

I didn't want to check the time; the moment I acknowledged the hour, I knew I wouldn't be able to sleep again. The best defense against an episode of anxiety was distraction.

I should just get up and prepare for school.

I picked up my phone. It was 3:52 in the morning.

I got up, crept downstairs to the living room, and put on the large, flat-screen TV, turning the volume barely audible. I sat on the couch and watched a distracting K-drama until 6 AM. Don't ask me how I stayed focused; I just did it. It was better than getting lost in my own head.

I went upstairs to prepare for school. I could hear water running in my parents’ suite; Mum was already up.

“Good morning, baby! What are you doing up so early?” My mum appeared in her robe, her voice still bright despite the hour.

I woke up early to catch up on my movies, I typed quickly on my phone.

“Oh, okay. Get prepared for school and try not to sleep in class since you woke up early,” she instructed.

I nodded.

“I’ll make you breakfast. Come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

I nodded and headed to my room. Second day of school, and I wasn't sure I liked it, but either way, I had to survive.

I got down from my Uber, having finally convinced Mum that a personal driver was unnecessary and drew too much attention. I needed to blend in. Here goes nothing.

“Brownieeeeeeee! Babyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Cutieeee! BROWNIE!”

Hold on, why does that sound familiar?

It was Chase, waving his arms dramatically near the student center. Blood of Jesus.

“I’ve been waiting for a while,” he declared as I walked up.

I looked down at my wristwatch, then back up at him, raising an eyebrow. It was only 7:30 AM, and lectures didn't officially start until 9:00 AM, so he couldn't have been here that long. He was just being dramatic.

“Okay, ten minutes. Don’t look at me like that, it felt very long.”

I realized this guy wasn't joking yesterday; he looked serious about this friendship. What about his other friends? I'm sure he has some.

“Hi, Chase, who’s your friend?” A blonde girl asked him, sauntering up.

It was just the second day, and she was already acting like she’d been crushing on him forever. Take him away, please. That would solve half of my issues.

“This Brownie over here is Hillary,” Chase announced, slinging his arm loosely over my shoulder.

“Hi, Hillary, I’m Sandra.”

Don’t look at me like I’m your competition. He’s all yours. I gave her a small smile and a wave as Chase abruptly dragged me along.

“She’s everywhere,” Chase hissed, and I couldn't help but smile.

“Wait, are you smiling? I just met her yesterday, and she just took it upon herself to be popping up everywhere and acting like a broken Barbie doll.” He looked genuinely funny talking like that, his face scrunched up in annoyance.

He pulled me into a relatively empty hall filled with soft seating. “Let’s sit here. When’s your first class?”

I opened my bag and grabbed my notepad. 9:30. I scribbled.

“Okay, there’s time. So, did you dream about me yesterday?”

I’m sure this guy has a loose screw upstairs, because what is going on?

Don’t you have friends? I decided to just ask, because his possessiveness was suspicious.

“You’re my friend, Brownie. That’s decided already. So, last time you ran away before I told you about myself, I will tell you right now, so brace yourself.”

I didn't "run away," and brace myself for what? Do I even have a choice in this alleged friendship?

“I’m Chase, you already know that. I’m studying HRM—Human Resource Management—and I’m also in my first year and...”

The door opened. The Magazine Man walked in. Jason. He was wearing a dark jacket, carrying a back pack, and looking devastatingly handsome. Wow. I stared at him, and he finally met my eyes, then looked away almost immediately, a small grimace crossing his face before he sat down across the room.

“Hmm, hmm, I smell fish in the air,” Chase muttered, elbowing me lightly.

I gave Chase a sharp look, and he just shrugged.

“Do you know him? He was staring at you yesterday, and you’re staring at him today. Fishy.” Oh my God, this.

He helped me out yesterday before class, and that’s the first time I met him. That’s all. BTW, you have a bad nose, I wrote, showing him the notepad.

“Calm down, girl, no need to bite my head off. But I still feel like you’re not giving me the details, because I can feel it,” he insisted, tapping his chest dramatically.

How did I meet this guy, Lord?

I looked up and saw Jason still staring at his phone, though I had a strong feeling he was listening.

“If you’re done not looking at him, my class starts in ten minutes, so I’m leaving. See yaa.”

Thank God.

Chase grabbed his stuff and left. I pulled out my phone to find something to do until my class started, and—

My phone was snatched from my hand.

I looked up. Chase was standing there, holding my phone hostage.

“I realized I don’t have my friend’s number, and I just wanted to get it. And done! Here’s your phone, and bye! I saved my number. I’ll text you.”

Blood of Zachariah! What in the name of friendship was wrong with Chase?

I peeked at Jason, who was still staring at his phone as if his life depended on it. I picked up my phone too, shaking my head slightly, and then I started watching my K-drama. The moment of Jason's brief, silent observation was already tucked away, filed neatly under 'Things I Will Never Tell Chase.'