Tides Between Us

The First Day At Silvercrest

Grandma said I was stronger than I knew.

Grandma had never been to Silvercrest.

Grandma never had to get off this bus.

Weeks later, it was time for me to pack for a new life at Silvercrest Boarding School.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the gates of Silvercrest Academy, the version I had in my head from pictures and rumors. Tall. Silver. Howling wolves carved into the iron. The kind of place that ate girls like me.

At 7 AM, Grandma carried the old suitcase while I walked at her side towards the white bus with “Silvercrest Academy” written on it in silver letters that shone so bright they vanished and reappeared with the angle of the sun. Her grip on the leather handle was too tight. Like if she let go, the suitcase would run.

Grandma sneaked a folded note into my palm that read, “Don’t let them make you feel small.” I read it, stared at Grandma with my silver-grey eyes brewing with tears, and held tight to the paper, my tears streaming down my face. The ink bled under my thumb.

Grandma held my face as she wiped my tears with her hands. Her palms smelled like flour and the rosemary soap she made every winter. “Always remember you are stronger than you know,” she said.

I nodded. I didn’t believe her.

Grandma opened her arms, and I went in for a hug, eyes filled with tears, as Grandma stroked my black hair the same way she used to when I was a child. For a second I was six again, and the monsters were just under the bed.

She pulled me away and said, “It’s time to go.”

I watched Grandma until she disappeared into the distance before I boarded the bus, pressing my pale forehead to the cold window. She didn’t look back. Not once. Like if she did, she’d run after the bus and drag me home.

I looked at my old place one last time before the bus moved. The engine kicked in, and the old house I grew up in faded into the distance. The one with the floors that groaned like they remembered my parents dying. The one that sighed at night. I told myself I wouldn’t miss it. I was lying.

I watched quietly from the window as the trees got bigger, taller, and darker. Houses gave way to trees until it felt like the forest had swallowed the bus whole. Birds chirped here and there on the dark trees and went quiet after a while. Like something bigger was listening.

The air smelled like dust and orange peels. And something else. Something wet. Like the forest was breathing on the glass.

I opened my palm to the letter from Grandma and read it out loud. My voice shook.

“Don’t let them make you feel small.”

I took a deep breath. It filled me all the way to my toes. For three seconds.

Don’t let them make you feel small,I thought to myself with a smirk, shaking my head.

I am stronger than I know, Grandma said.

A sigh slipped out.

And Grandma hadn’t been to Silvercrest.

Grandma never had to get off this bus.

The forest was still out there, dark with tall trees pressed close behind the glass. Like it was trying to see inside.

What did Grandma know about this forest? I chuckled lightly.

The sound died fast. My shoulders sank like someone had cut the string holding them up. I didn’t plan to sleep. I just blinked.

When my eyes dragged open, my neck hurt. A crick, sharp and deep, like I’d been sleeping with my head at the wrong angle for hours. Outside, the trees were gone.

A high stone wall instead. Grey and shining, running beside the bus with no end, no gate yet. The stone looked wet, even though it hadn’t rained. Like the wall was sweating.

The engine went quiet. The bus stopped.

I was in front of Silvercrest Academy, stunned by the massive building. My mouth dropped. Time seemed to stop. The towers had narrow windows like arrow slits. The stone was darker near the ground where rain had stained it for a hundred years. It didn’t look like a school. It looked like a fortress built to keep things in Or out.

“Silvercrest Academy,” the driver called, voice too loud in the quiet. “Everybody out.”

I blinked back to reality. My palms were sweaty. The note was still there, damp from my grip. The ink had smeared now. Don’t let them make you. The rest was a grey smudge.

I shoved the note in my pocket and stood up. My legs shook.

It was just me and my old suitcase, larger than my frame. The one with the wolf carved into the lid. The one Grandma said had “always been mine.”

In front of the Silvercrest Academy gate.

The tall, mighty silver gates were open to me. Waiting. The iron wolves on top had eyes. I swear they did. Empty, but watching.

I didn’t wait. I dragged my suitcase through before I could think twice. The wheels caught on the stone and jerked my shoulder. Keep moving, I told myself. Don’t let them make you feel small.

Silvercrest Academy was bigger than I imagined and that made me more anxious. It sat high on the hills like it belonged there, surrounded by thick forest that seemed to stretch for miles. The buildings were large and old, built from grey stone that made the school look almost like a castle. The air smelled like wet rock and leaves and the cold stuck to my skin. Stuck to my bones.

Three girls in grey uniforms watched from under an archway. Not close. Not far. Just there. One of them lifted her hand. Not a real wave. Half of one, like she wasn’t sure.

I lifted mine back. Full wave. Fingers open. Hi.

Her smile wiped off her face. Like my hand had been a gun. All three turned away. At the same time. Like it was practiced.

My hand hung in the air.

I felt a tap on my shoulders from behind.

“Selene?”

The voice Came from behind me.

I turned around.

No one was there.

But the tap came again. But on my Suitcase.