FIRST TIDES(3)
1386 Words
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Students who hadn’t completed their clearance were told to head to the designated halls. There, physical verification for medicals, financials, and faculty registration would be done. Others, who were cleared, could collect their orientation packs and explore the campus.
They were also reminded that only students who had completed their school fee payments would be able to collect matriculation gowns starting Thursday.
At the end of the session, Mrs. Wesley had already texted Beyoncé, asking how things were going and whether they had met the dean. Beyoncé replied with a thumbs-up emoji and turned toward the others. “Looks like we’ll be walking towards the Science Block next.”
As they stepped out of the auditorium, Beyoncé stretched her arms. “Alright,” she said, glancing at Miranda, then at Clara and the others. “We’ll meet at the courtyard when we’re done with clearance, yeah?”
Everyone gave small nods, though the group already seemed to splinter. Beyoncé and Miranda moved a little faster, heading toward the Science Block. Clara lingered, her bag strap clutched tighter against her shoulder.
Her eyes drifted to Annalise and Monica, who were walking away toward the Faculty of Sports wing. Something in their posture made her pause, they looked weighed down, like their steps carried more than just files. Clara wanted to call out, to say something, but the words caught in her throat.
Elina nudged her gently. “Come on, Clara. We should get going too,” she said with a small smile.
Clara nodded, letting herself be pulled along, but her gaze lingered a moment longer on the girls disappearing down the other path. The space between them felt wider than just steps.
Monica tugged her clearance file tighter against her chest as they walked. The buzz of orientation excitement lingered in the air, but nothing about this moment felt light.
“We can’t keep this up,” she muttered.
Annalise kept her pace steady, her face unreadable. “We don’t have a choice.”
“We’ve had no training for over eight days, except for the three-day break he gave everyone. The lie about being sick…” Monica’s voice dropped. “He even offered to come check on us yesterday. You know that, right?”
“I know,” Annalise said quickly, eyes flicking around. “Don’t say his name so loud. What if he’s around?”
They both slowed, pretending to study a noticeboard outside the faculty. Monica leaned closer, her voice hushed. “What if he spots us during clearance? We’re not invisible.”
Annalise’s jaw tightened. “Then we finish fast and get out. If anyone asks, we’re still recovering.”
Monica hesitated. “But for how long, Annalise? How long can we keep lying?”
Annalise didn’t answer right away. The tension in her shoulders was enough. Finally, she muttered, “Until we can face water again without… without feeling like that. We have to find a way to fix this.”
Monica’s grip tightened on her file. “I miss it. I miss swimming. But I’m terrified of it too.”
A heavy beat passed.
“Me too,” Annalise admitted quietly.
“We lied,” Monica whispered. “We ghosted him.”
Annalise let out a sharp breath. “Don’t remind me. And now, here we are, walking straight into him.”
Monica swallowed hard. “He’ll skin us alive.”
“No,” Annalise said grimly. “Worse. He’ll disqualify us.”
A group of students passed by, laughing as they made their way toward the faculty building. Annalise and Monica stepped aside, letting them pass, but both glanced at the faces, tense, as if expecting one in particular.
“Let’s avoid the back entrance,” Monica whispered. “He might be checking clearance records there. You know what he’s like.”
Annalise gave a curt nod. “East side, then. Straight to the registration hall. It’s crowded. Easier to disappear in a crowd.”
“And if he sees us?”
“Then we act surprised. We’re still…” Annalise’s voice faltered. “Recovering.”
The word was so thin now, stretched to the point of breaking. But Monica nodded anyway. They had no better excuse.
The admin block loomed ahead, its wide glass doors glinting in the sun. Just as they rounded the corner—
“There you girls are.”
They froze, every nerve tightening.
But it wasn’t Coach Humphrey.
A student guide, clipboard in hand, waved them toward the Faculty of Sports queue.
Both girls exhaled sharply, relief crashing over them.
Monica clutched her file tighter.
Annalise stomach churned.
As they joined the line, whispers floated from nearby students.
“Those are the two, right? The first-years they picked?”
“Yeah, I heard one of them smashed a record.”
“Hope it wasn’t just hype.”
Neither Annalise nor Monica turned. Their heads stayed high, their strides steady. But beneath the calm mask, every step trembled.
Clara stood at the edge of the long line outside the Faculty of Science building, Elina close by. Her file was pressed tight against her chest, her arms folded over it as though shielding herself. Around her, students buzzed with nervous energy—some laughed, some shouted greetings across the crowd, others traded names and numbers with people they had only just met during orientation.
But Clara was silent.
The mermaid’s words still haunted her:
You can’t run forever. Fear hinders the way to the key that unlocks your future.
She wanted to tell Elina. The dream clung to her skin like damp air, too strange, too personal—too real—to be dismissed.
Even here, beneath the warm sun and the hum of campus life, Clara felt like she hadn’t fully woken up.
“Next!”
She startled slightly before stepping forward. Sliding her file across the desk, she half-listened as the official flipped through the pages, ticking boxes and stamping seals.
“Welcome to Antares,” the woman said warmly. “You’re all cleared for faculty orientation tomorrow.”
Clara managed a faint nod, her voice trapped somewhere between her chest and her throat.
Meanwhile,
Miranda was already halfway through the line at the Faculty of Medical Sciences. The building was clean, modern, and slightly more clinical than the others.
The corridor walls were lined with posters on lab safety, medical ethics, and anatomical charts.
“Everything looks complete,” the admin officer said, stamping her form. “You’ll receive your departmental handbook tomorrow.”
Miranda nodded. “Thank you.”
Across campus, Beyoncé admired the displays of textile work, sculpture, and stage costume sketches pinned proudly to the corridor walls of the Faculty of Arts and Design.
As she filled her form and clipped her file together, she overheard two students nearby arguing about colours for a runway showcase. The energy here was expressive, creative, loud. Beyoncé loved every second of it.
After her documents were signed, she tossed her hair with a grin.
“I am so ready for this school.”
By mid-afternoon, all the girls had finished their clearance. They gathered beneath a tall shade tree near the open courtyard, their files stacked neatly in their bags. The breeze had picked up, rustling the leaves overhead.
Clara joined them quietly. Her smile was small, her eyes still distant. Monica and Annalise also sat in silence, answering only when spoken to.
Elina raised an eyebrow.
“Wow. So everyone suddenly lost their voices?”
Beyoncé tried to lighten the mood. “Maybe the heat fried our brains.”
Monica forced a chuckle. Annalise kept her eyes on her phone, scrolling aimlessly.
The awkwardness was showing. Clara felt the distance between them stretch wider with every heartbeat. She wanted to tell them everything—the dream, the water, the mermaid’s smile that still lingered at the edges of her mind, but the words stayed trapped. Even under the bright afternoon sun, she couldn’t shake the chill of last night, the memory of her nightgown clinging wet to her skin.
Monica and Annalise wanted to talk to her too. But how could they? The competition, the training… everything felt like a lie under the weight of the truth they now carried. A truth that could destroy everything they were working for.
- Writer
