chapter 9: First Day
1301 Words
Ella's POV
I was awake before my alarm.
I lay staring at the ceiling of my still unfamiliar room with my stomach already doing things it had no business doing at 6am. First day of college. New school. New people. New everything.
Mom's flower caught the early morning light on the windowsill.
I took a slow breath.
Okay. Fine. Let's do this.
I had just finished washing up when my phone rang.
Alex.
I smiled before I even answered.
"Good morning," I said.
"Good morning." His voice was warm and wide awake — he had probably been up for hours already. "How are you feeling?"
"Like my stomach has decided to stage a full protest," I said.
He laughed. "Ella."
"I'm nervous Alex. I'm not going to pretend I'm not."
"I know. That's why I called." A pause. "Listen to me. You are going to walk in there and you are going to be fine. More than fine."
"You don't know that."
"I do actually. Because I know you. And anyone who looks at you wrong or gives you any kind of trouble—" he stopped.
"What?" I said.
"Let's just say they would deeply regret it," he said calmly.
I laughed. "Alex you're in Canada."
"Details," he said.
I laughed harder.
That was the thing about Alex. He could reach through a phone from another country and make everything feel slightly less terrifying.
"Okay," I said when I had calmed down. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me. Just go eat something before you leave. You always forget to eat when you're nervous."
"I was literally about to go downstairs—"
"Ella."
"Fine. Yes. I'll eat."
"Good. Text me when you're done for the day."
"I will."
"And Ella?"
"Yes Alex?"
"You've got this. I mean it."
I held the phone for a moment after we hung up.
Then I went downstairs to eat.
Dad had already left.
He had an early resumption at his new office — something he had mentioned last night and promptly forgotten in the anxiety of my own first day. But he hadn't left without a word.
There was a note on the kitchen table propped against the fruit bowl.
I picked it up.
His handwriting — slightly messy and completely familiar.
"Princess. Eat your breakfast — there's toast and eggs in the microwave. Don't forget your lunch, it's in the blue container in the fridge. I'll be home before dinner and I want to hear everything. You are braver than you think. Love, Dad."
I read it twice.
Then I carefully folded it and put it in my pocket.
Something to carry with me. Like mom's flower. Like Alex's voice.
Small things that made the world feel less enormous.
I ate my breakfast slowly. Packed my lunch into my bag — blue container, just like he said. Double checked my stationery. Checked my timetable on my phone.
First class: Introduction to Marine Ecosystems. Hall C, Building 2. 9am.
Right.
I picked up my bag, took one last look at mom's flower on the windowsill and walked out the door.
Clearwater Coast University was bigger than I expected.
Beautiful too — in that particular way coastal universities are beautiful. Wide open spaces and modern buildings interspersed with old stone ones draped in climbing plants. Flowers lining the main path. The faint smell of salt in the air from the coast nearby.
I stood at the main entrance with my campus map open on my phone feeling immediately and completely lost.
Building 2. Hall C.
I turned left. Then right. Then left again.
Okay. Building 2 was not where the map said Building 2 was.
Around me students moved with the easy confidence of people who knew exactly where they were going. Groups laughing. Friends reuniting. Everyone belonging somewhere.
I belonged nowhere yet.
I turned in a slow circle trying to match the map to the actual buildings in front of me and failing completely.
"You look like you're about to have a crisis."
I turned.
A girl was standing a few feet away watching me with an amused expression. She was — and I say this with complete objectivity — stunning. Tall and effortlessly elegant with long blonde hair that fell perfectly over her shoulders like she had walked out of a magazine. The kind of girl that every person in a room notices when she walks in.
Standing next to her I felt immediately and completely ordinary.
But her smile was warm. Genuinely warm. Not the performative friendliness of someone who knew they were beautiful and was being gracious about it. Just — real.
"Little bit," I admitted.
She laughed and stepped forward. "What are you looking for?"
"Hall C. Building 2. Introduction to Marine Ecosystems."
Her face lit up. "No way. That's my class too." She tilted her head. "Follow me — Building 2 is actually behind the library. The map is useless, everyone gets lost the first time."
"That's deeply unhelpful of them," I said.
She laughed again. "I'm Anna."
"Ella."
We fell into step together naturally — the way you sometimes do with certain people. Like the rhythm was already there.
"You're new," she said. Not a question.
"That obvious?"
"A little." She smiled sideways at me. "Also my brother mentioned it. He said a new girl had arrived in the area."
I looked at her. "Your brother?"
"He's kind of — in charge around here," she said with a slight careful pause that I didn't fully notice at the time. "Any new person coming into the area has to go through the proper channels. Your dad came to collect the accommodation papers and the residence letter a few days ago right?"
"Yes," I said slowly. "I didn't know there was someone in charge of that."
"My brother takes it very seriously," she said simply. "He wasn't there himself when your dad came — he had other things to handle so he sent someone else. But he knew you were coming."
Something about that made the back of my neck prickle slightly.
Someone had known I was coming before I even arrived.
"He sounds — thorough," I said carefully.
Anna laughed — bright and unbothered. "That's one word for it." She pushed open a door and held it for me. "Here we go. Building 2."
I stepped through and the moment passed.
But I filed it away quietly.
Like all the other small strange things I had been collecting since I crossed the Florida state line.
The lecture hall was large and already half full when we arrived.
Anna led me to a row near the middle — not too far back, not aggressively at the front — and we settled in side by side with the easy comfort of people who had known each other longer than twenty minutes.
It was strange how natural it felt.
She pointed out the professor when he arrived — tall, older, with the distracted energy of someone who was deeply passionate about marine ecosystems and slightly less passionate about administrative things like attendance sheets.
She explained which modules were interesting and which were painful.
She told me which campus café had the best coffee and which one to absolutely avoid.
By the time the lecture started I had learned more about Clearwater Coast University from Anna than I had from three days of reading the student handbook.
I leaned over slightly as the professor began writing on the board.
"Thank you," I whispered. "For the rescue earlier."
She smiled without looking up from her notebook.
"That's what people are for," she said simply.
I looked back at the board.
And for the first time since arriving in Florida something felt — okay.
Not perfect. Not home.
But okay.
And right now that was enough.
- Writer
