“I think mapping all the routes is smart, especially with this maze of a campus,” I tell Eva, my finger tracing the colorful lines on the map. I am quite lucky with my timetable, having Thursday afternoons and Mondays off. This allows me to maintain a good working schedule at the pizza place. Despite what my mother says, she needs every dollar I can spare.
Eva, with her round glasses and a stack of books always in hand, nods, her eyes scanning her own packed schedule. Where I have five classes, she has seven. “I know. I made the mistake one year at the London—” She stops, a shadow crossing her face as she shakes her head, clearly a memory she doesn’t want to revisit now. “Let’s say that I learned from my mistake.”
With a delicate push, she adjusts her glasses on her nose and halts in the middle of the bustling central square, where students crisscross in every direction, their laughter and chatter creating a lively symphony.
I gaze around at the majestic red brick buildings, their ancient facades adorned with creeping vines, an embrace of greenery against the stark, aged brickwork. The air is filled with the scent of the impending rain and fresh grass. Freshmen don’t officially start classes before Monday, but the other years are already starting, and we can see students going in and out, way too busy with their own agenda to spot the two nerdy girls gaping at the similar-looking buildings. “How much do you bet I’ll get confused for the next six months at least?” I turn back toward the way we came from, toward the café where Nessa is waiting for us in the warmth with an iced coffee while listening to her music with her gigantic headphones she’s taking everywhere she goes.
“Maybe Nessa has a point,” I say, my eyes squinting as I look around the bustling campus, students moving with purpose and excitement. “We could wing it instead of acting like… What was her loving term for us again?”
Eva laughs. “‘Overanxious grannies.’ And no, she’s the lucky one! She only has four classes, and all in the same ultramodern building at the back.” She looks down at her schedule again. “Got any classes in Albert Hall?”
“Two.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ve got three. Let’s go to this one first, then,” she adds, pointing at the first building to the right.
I smile as we walk down the path toward Albert Hall. I can’t help but think about how much I missed having friends until I found these girls. It feels so good to be able to have people in my life who didn’t know Poppy Lockwood.
In retrospect, I’m not a fan of the girl I had been back then. I had been conceited and spoiled; I had taken everything for granted and often forgot to take pleasure in anything I got.
Now, a leftover pizza at the end of my shift brings me a strange joy, a world apart from my former routine of luxury dining. It’s a humbling reality check, a reminder of the life I now lead. Finding shoes or clothes I like in my size at the charity shop sends me over the moon. Paying some bills for my mom or having a little extra cash to buy my brothers something special, like a brand-name candy bar, fills me with happiness.
I breathe out, linking my arm with hers as we enter the building, and she throws me a curious look.
“I’m just glad I met you two,” I say, the warmth of belonging thawing the chill of loneliness that had clung to me for so long. “It…” I twist my mouth, not really knowing how to word it. “It…”
“It makes things so much easier not to have to do it alone,” she continues while flexing her left hand. I don’t think she does it consciously. I can’t help but wonder if it’s due to the thick red scar crossing her palm.
I look up, and suddenly, everything stops. I stay rooted on the floor, keeping my eyes on the laughing boy exiting a room. No, not a boy, a man. And not any man… Ethan Hawthorne, the bane of my high school years and a constant thorn in my side. His father destroyed my family, and his son enjoyed our downfall.
I keep my eyes on him, clinging to the fragile hope that his face will transform into that of a stranger, praying it’s just a vivid nightmare. Eva’s voice becomes a distant murmur, drowned out by the rush in my ears.
He finally turns his head and looks directly at me. His face morphs, his eyebrows shoot up, showing his surprise, and then his mouth turns into a familiar grin as he slowly walks toward me.
My heart pounds against my chest. A frantic drum echoing in the silence of my mind. Why here? Why now? The questions swirl, unbidden and unwelcome.
He looks the same but also so different at the same time. His face has lost the remaining softness of adolescence, giving him a sharp jawline and a hardness that makes him look more like a fighter than the preppy rich boy he really is. His black T-shirt is tight, showing how kind these last two years have been to him. He is so broad and muscular now and is sporting a full arm of tattoos, something I am sure his father doesn’t approve of.
My stomach churns as he stops in front of me.
“Pauper Lockwood.” His words drip with disdain, his lips curling into a sneer.
His words sting, a slap to my face. I clench my jaw, fighting the urge to retaliate with a sharp retort. He called me Pauper far before my family fell from grace. He thought he was being clever by using wordplay. He started it freshman year of high school when my father began working for his. I didn’t really care then, and I don’t care much more now. Because now, it is actually true.
I tighten my hold on Eva’s arm, happy to have her by my side despite feeling her eyes full of questions on the side of my face.
“Cat got your tongue, Pauper? Nothing to say?” He crosses his arms on his chest, flexing his impressive biceps. God, what did he eat for two years?
“What is there to say?” I reply, happy about how steady my voice sounds despite my wild heartbeat and faint nausea.
“Yo, Hawthorne! We need to move. Coach will have your ass if you’re late for practice again.” A blond man with a man bun and impossibly blue eyes wraps his arm around Ethan’s neck and smirks at us. He’s as tall as Ethan and probably even wider… Seriously, what were they feeding them?
“Already preying on freshman meat?” he asks, eyeing me.
“As if!” Ethan and I snort at the same time.
The blond guy’s gaze moves from me to Eva, and his grin fades, replaced by a confused frown. “Julliard?” he whispers, and I feel Eva tense beside me, her arm so tight on mine it almost feels painful.
She looks up, her face hard; she has a fire in her eyes that I am witnessing for the first time, and I think her wildness could rival Nessa.
She pulls at my arm. “Come on, let’s go back.”
I’m more than happy to comply, but before we have a chance to turn around, the blond dude moves, all humor gone, and stands in front of us, preventing any more movement.
“Julliard,” the blond man insists, his voice louder and more demanding this time.
Eva finally meets his eyes, her face a cool mask of indifference.
“Is that supposed to mean something?” Eva’s voice is steady, but I can feel the tremor in her arm, her nerves betraying her calm facade. “Is it some hazing code I’m not familiar with?” She sighs, but I see her hand flexing repeatedly to the side. Her eyes dart around as if searching for an escape from the blond man’s intense scrutiny.
That’s enough to spring me into action and forget the turmoil I feel at seeing Ethan again. My only thought is to get my friend out of here and now.
“It’s probably some jock slang we can’t understand. Whatever the interest is, we’re passing. Please go look for other… fresh meat,” I add before pulling Eva and walking out of the building, feeling Ethan’s eyes on my back.
As we exit the building, the fresh air is a soothing balm, easing the tension that had coiled within me, and I feel Eva’s grip soften.
“We’ll be okay,” I whisper, more to myself, a promise that I intend to keep, come what may.
“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks as we make our way back to the café.
“I’d rather not. You?” I offer, already suspecting her answer.
“Not in this lifetime.”
We keep on walking silently for a little while, the previous excitement for a fresh start now annihilated. It’s a huge school, though, and I’m one year behind—I’m sure I can avoid Ethan if I need to. I try and fail to convince myself. Why is Ethan here? He’s a Harvard legacy! Silverbrook is way down that list of prestigious universities. Is there a way for me to—
“You’ll lose the scholarship if you transfer,” Eva mutters, answering my unspoken thoughts.
I throw her a surprised look.
“I read the entire terms and conditions when I accepted the offer. The university gets a grant for taking the rejects we are,” she says, the harshness in her voice taking me aback. I am getting used to calm and demure Eva; this version is unfamiliar. “It’s not transferable.”
I purse my lips and nod. “Of course it isn’t.” Why would something go my way, huh?
We walk into the café, and even though Nessa is not at the same table we left her at, we spot her right away. It’s hard to miss her with her silver hair being a deep-purple ombré.
She raises her head, and her scowl morphs into a smile on her bright-red lips as she sees us approaching. She removes her headphones and leans on her seat.
“That went much faster than I expected. I didn’t manage to scare anyone yet. How disappointing,” she adds with a sigh.
I chuckle, some of the tension easing despite the remaining weight on my chest. “No, we decided to follow your example and wing it.”
She narrows her eyes at us and shakes her head. “Maybe you can wing it,” she says, pointing a blood-red nail toward me. “But you,” she starts, turning toward Eva, “I don’t think you’ve ever ‘winged’ anything in your life.”
Eva purses her lips, sitting down with a huff. “I do wing some stuff,” she replies half-heartedly, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I’m sorry to say I agree with Nessa. You read the terms and conditions of the scholarship!”
Nessa’s grin widened. “Case in point.”
Eva rolls her eyes, mumbling about us being ungrateful. “I’m getting a surprise coffee because I’m winging it,” Eva declares with a mock bravado, her attempt to lighten the mood bringing a smile to our faces.
“Wow, living on the edge!” Nessa mutters, and Eva flips her the bird, making the three of us laugh.
I watch her go to the counter to order a “surprise coffee,” which is at the barista’s discretion, and smile once again, grateful to have my girls.
Ethan’s unexpected presence is a blow, a ghost from my past I wasn’t prepared to face. But I am not the Poppy I was before. I have already faced so many unexpected blows, one more will not take me down. I glance at Eva and Nessa, their smiles like shields against the world. With their friendship on top of my resilience, I am ready to confront any challenge head-on, including Ethan Hawthorne.
