CHAPTER 004
1358 Words
PRISCILLA
I’d never seen anything like it.
The university sat against the mountain like a castle carved by gods who majored in architecture.
I hitched my bag back up and walked toward the entrance, where a stand was set up with a banner that read
WELCOME, FRESHMEN in bold navy letters.
Behind it stood a group of students. Two girls and a guy who looked like sophomores, plus one older guy who was clearly the senior running the show.
He had a clipboard and that specific energy of someone who’d been doing this all morning and was running on caffeine and obligation.
“Hi,” I said, smiling. “I’m—”
“New. Obviously.” One of the sophomore girls grinned. “Welcome! You’re going to love it here.”
The other sophomore nodded. “Seriously. Best years of your life start now.”
I liked them immediately.
The senior didn’t look up from his clipboard. “Name?”
“Priscilla. Priscilla Connell.”
He looked up. And then he just… stared at me. Not in a creepy way. More like he was trying to solve a math problem and my face was the equation.
“Have we met before?” he asked.
My stomach dropped exactly one inch.
“No,” I said, keeping my voice casual. “I just have one of those faces. People say that all the time.”
He squinted for another second, then shrugged, grabbed a thick booklet from the stack behind him, and handed it over.
“University handbook. Read it. Seriously, actually read it. Matron’s office is down that main hall, third door on the left. She’ll give you your dorm assignment.”
“Thank you.”
I turned to leave.
“Oh — hey.”
I looked back. He scratched the back of his neck like what he was about to say was mildly embarrassing.
“Fair warning. There’s been some kind of glitch in the housing system. The dorm pairings got scrambled and nobody’s caught it yet. Word is one room ended up with a girl and a guy matched together.”
He said it like it was a funny little administrative hiccup.
I laughed politely.
Because what were the chances?
****
The matron’s office smelled like old paper and authority.
She sat behind a wide oak desk with her hands clasped on top of a Manila folder — my Manila folder, I realized, because I could see my name on the tab.
Her glasses sat low on her nose, and she looked at me over them the way a judge looks at someone whose case she’s already decided.
“Priscilla Connell.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She didn’t ask me to sit, so I didn’t.
“I’m going to be direct with you,” she said. “You should know that you are here on thin ice. Thinner than anyone else walking through those doors today.”
The room suddenly felt very small.
“Your admission to this university was… unconventional. There are people on the board who voted against it. I want you to understand what that means.”
I understood.
“It means,” she continued, as if I didn’t, “that every decision you make here, every action, no matter how small, will be scrutinized. One wrong move and you will lose your place. Not a second chance. Not a warning. You will simply be gone.”
She said gone the way you’d say dead.
“Do we understand each other?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good.”
She stared at me for another long second. I got the distinct feeling that this was the most thorough lecture I’d receive all semester.
And then I felt it, that tingling at the back of my neck. The one that tells you you’re not alone when you should be.
Before I could think too hard about it, the door swung open.
A girl walked in. She was already in full uniform, long navy stockings pulled up to her knees, a pleated skirt that sat just above them, a crisp white shirt buttoned to the collar, a fitted blazer, and a tie knotted neatly underneath.
She looked like she’d stepped out of a university brochure.
I looked down at my jeans and hoodie.
Wait. Uniforms?
The matron must have seen my face go through its entire journey of confusion because she sighed like I was already exhausting her.
“Uniforms are compulsory for all first-year students. Optional from second year onward. You’ll receive yours at the supply office.”
She gestured to the girl. “This is Betty. She’ll be your tour guide for today. She resumed earlier in the week and knows the campus. We ran out of available sophomores.”
Betty gave me a small wave. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Betty, show her around. Bring her back here for her dorm key when you’re done.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And just like that, we were dismissed.
Betty wasn’t a big talker. And honestly? I was grateful for it.
She pointed things out with the efficient calm of someone who’d already processed her own shock at this place and was now operating on quiet appreciation.
“Library’s there. It’s open twenty-four hours but nobody actually goes after midnight because the heating shuts off and it becomes a freezer.”
“Noted.”
“Dining hall. Food’s decent. Breakfast is the best meal. Don’t skip it.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
She glanced at my bags, I was carrying two, one on each shoulder, plus dragging a rolling suitcase.
“I can take one of those,” she offered.
“I’m good. Thanks though.”
She nodded. Didn’t push it.
I liked her.
Betty led me past the academic halls and into what she called the “athletics quarter,” and my jaw nearly hit the ground.
“Three indoor rinks, one outdoor,” Betty said. “The outdoor one’s only usable in peak winter.”
“This is insane.”
“Yeah.” The tiniest smile. “It kind of is.”
Then the storage rooms. Rows and rows of skates, hockey sticks, helmets, padding, ski poles, and equipment I couldn’t even name. Everything organized with military precision.
“You skate?” Betty asked.
“A little.”
That was a lie. But she didn’t need to know that yet.
We rounded a corner and passed by the changing rooms.
The door banged open and a guy walked out.
He was wearing nothing. Absolutely nothing but a towel wrapped low around his hips. Water droplets were still sliding down his collarbone.
God was showing off.
“Hey, ladies,” he said. Casual.
“Hi,” Betty said.
I opened my mouth and nothing came out, so I just sort of raised my hand in a wave that I will be replaying with embarrassment for the next four years.
“That just happened.” she said.
“It absolutely did.”
The blush on her cheeks matched mine perfectly.
The campus was alive with new students wandering in clusters, hauling bags, laughing nervously, taking photos.
The air smelled like pine and fresh snow and the particular electricity of a thousand new beginnings happening simultaneously.
I was starting to feel it. That maybe-this-will-be-okay feeling. That little flicker in my chest.
Betty was mid-sentence about the cafeteria hours when I heard it.
A voice. Coming from somewhere ahead of us. Around the next corner.
My entire body went rigid.
I knew that voice. I knew it the way you know a sound that’s been carved into your nervous system.
I stopped walking. Betty turned to look at me.
“You okay?”
No, I was not okay.
Because the voice got louder and closer.
And then its owner came around the corner with two other girls flanking her, all of them in matching uniforms, all of them laughing about something.
She saw me at the exact same moment I saw her.
Her laughter died.
Natasha?
She was already here.
And she was looking at me like she wanted to bury me.
- Writer
