Chapter 1
Gwendolyn
“Here’s your schedule and your map, you’ll be needing it.” The secretary eyes me, a judging look in her gaze. “Welcome to Whitmore Academy.”
And that was that. I’m now a student at Whitmore Academy.
Finally, I thought to myself. My whole reason for coming here was to escape my parents. My mom, always the narcissist. My dad, always the bystander.
I figured the best thing to do at the moment would be to find my dorm. Which would be challenging, because this campus is enormous. I’d heard somewhere that dorm buildings were assigned by grade, and every floor was co-ed, which easily meant I could be in a dorm next to a couple of asshats who stayed up all night partying.
Hoping I didn’t just jinx myself to hell, I glanced at my map and tried to make sense of it. I was in East Building C. That actually happened to be the building closest to the actual classes, so I guess I lucked out a bit.
My feet dragged on and on until I reached the double doors of East Building C. The walk was nice and scenic though, and an elegant koi pond greeted me as I approached the doors. There were flowers everywhere. Splashes of blues, reds, and violets filled my eyes, and I found myself staring at those more than the map itself.
I wrapped my hand around the gold polished handle and pulled the door open, and a huge blast of air conditioning filled my senses, a welcome contrast from the blazing heat outside. My feet landed on a large, stunning rug, and I took a second to look at everything around me, breathing in the feeling of a new life, a new chance.
There were long, winding stairs on either side of me, and a cozy fireplace with two comfy couches ahead. Split into two hallways, I could see a kitchen area on the left, and a study area on the right. Both were vacated, probably because all the students were in classes right now. I also saw elevators in either hallways, so I glanced back down at the papers in my hands, trying to find what room I was actually in.
After some digging, I found that I had dorm four twenty-three. That must mean floor four, room twenty-three, right?
Taking my chances, I hopped onto the elevator on the left and pressed the button with the number four on it.
Once it arrived and the doors opened, I swiftly exited and went on the quest for my room, eyeing the sign on the wall in front of me.
← 1 - 20
21 - 40 →
Turning right, I started my walk down the hallway. There was a balcony, as well, and you could see each floor above and below, and a kitchen at the very bottom. I assumed that on the other side, you could see down to the study area.
Stopping at my door, I pulled the key out of my pocket and slid it into the keyhole, twisting it.
When it unlocked, I opened the door and stepped in, a single bed and sink greeting me.
Home, sweet home.
At least there was a window. A small one, at that.
I was both relieved and surprised that I wasn’t sharing a room -- but mostly relieved.
I also saw my suitcase sitting right by my bed. They had told me that they would take my luggage to my room, and I was glad they came through with that.
Sliding my backpack off my shoulders and onto the ground, I flopped face-down onto my new bed.
I soon slipped into unconsciousness, and all my thoughts of the day subsided, exhaustion overtaking my body and mind.
~~~~~
I woke to the feeling of a grumbling stomach, desperate for some source of food.
It was dark in my room, and the only light source was from outside my door. Stomach growling, I got up and searched for a light. Finally finding one, I flicked it, and was immediately blinded.
Groaning, I palmed my face and reached for the phone in my pocket, trying to figure out what time it could possibly be. Six forty-seven. Great. I slept for four hours.
I took a look in the mirror hanging above my sink, and was met with the sight of mussed hair and smudged mascara. I splashed some water on my face and ran my fingers through my tangled, golden locks, trying to make myself more presentable.
I paced my room, knowing I would have to put a brave face on and leave to get some form of dinner.
Ugh, I hate people.
Letting my nerves get the better of me, I decided to unpack a few of my things first.
There was a dresser on one side of the room, a mirror above it, and a little table next to the bed, with an alarm clock resting atop it.
I laid my suitcase on its side on the bed and unzipped it. Upon opening it, a cool wave of relief flushed through me when I saw that nothing had spilled, broken, or mysteriously gone missing.
I separated all my clothes and placed them into the drawers, wishing I had a closet to go with the dresser, but I guessed the wrinkled clothes life had officially chosen me.
I set my toothbrush, toothpaste, face wash, and moisturizer on the sink, letting my makeup bag stay on the dresser. Closing my suitcase, I rolled it over to the other side of the room, letting it stay right next to the bedside table.
Glancing at my phone, I checked the time again. Seven thirteen. Okay. Now, I should probably get dinner before I couldn’t.
I smoothed my hair down with my hands and looked over my outfit. A forest green sweater, straight blue jeans, and black converse. Simple. Just how I liked it.
After one last glance in the mirror, I turned and walked over to the door, wrapping my hand around the handle. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying to calm my growing anxiety.
It’s okay. They’re not gonna judge you. You’re just a new face.
Again, I pulled air in through my nose, and out through my mouth, before opening the door and stepping out. I closed it behind me, making sure to hear that satisfying click.
After a not-as-harrowing-as-I-thought-it-would-be trek down to the kitchen and dining area, I gathered some food for myself and took a seat at one of the booths lining the hall.
I stared down at my plate for a second, wondering if I even had the appetite for the delicious-looking mac-and-cheese and fruit cup. Truthfully, the whole reason I was getting food in the first place was because I knew I had to eat something. I didn’t feel like passing out, and I didn’t feel like going to bed hungry tonight.
I felt my stomach growl before I heard it. But for some crazy reason, I couldn’t fathom the idea of eating the food in front of me. I took a sip from the water cup I had filled for myself and leaned back in my seat, feeling defeated.
A couple seconds – or minutes – later, a large figure casted a shadow over my table.
Turning my head, I saw that the large figure was a living, breathing sculpture of perfection. Tanned skin – like he’d been in the sun for hours, swirling gray eyes, and fluffy gray hair with stone-colored highlights.
I half-choked on the water that I forgot was in my mouth, and coughed loudly, bringing my elbow up to cover it, and turned away from him.
Once I cleared my throat and felt like I wasn’t choking, I shifted back to look at him.
“Do you mind if I sit here?” I swallowed when I heard his smooth, baritone voice, and shook my head awkwardly.
“N-not at all,” I croaked, my voice hoarse from the water I had choked on.
He nodded in appreciation and slid into the seat across from me, setting his bag next to him, and resting his plate and utensils on the table.
For a moment, neither of us said anything, and a flush rose on my cheeks when I saw him cock his head at me curiously.
Stupidly, I asked, “is there something on my face?”
“There’s nothing on your face, princess,” he assured, picking up his utensils to eat. I blinked at what he called me, startled but flattered at the name.
“My name’s Gwendolyn,” I told him, before adding, “and I’m not a princess.” I let out an embarrassed chuckle, sure that my cheeks were flaming red by now.
“Well, you look like one,” he offered. My breath hitched. I got lost in his cloudy eyes for a moment. “My name’s Caspian.”
“I-it’s nice to meet you, Caspian.” A playful smile lit up his face.
“And it’s nice to meet a princess as beautiful as you, Gwendolyn.” I dropped my gaze to my plate, unsure how to feel. Part of me wanted to let loose and see where this took me, but another part of me was sure of the fact that this had to be a joke or prank of some kind. Surely, his friends were around the corner watching this all unfold and snickering to themselves. In the seventeen years of my life, no boys had ever been interested in me. Why would this one be?
“Look, if this is some kind of a joke, you can get up now.” He frowned, and confusion washed over his face at my sudden hostility.
“I can assure you, it’s not,” he said. I looked him over and crossed my arms over my chest.
“Prove it.”
He let out a barely perceptible sigh and sat up in his seat. “Give me your hand.” He didn’t seem threatening at all, and I didn’t feel unsafe, especially knowing there were dozens of other students in the room. Slowly, I reached my hand out to him, looking at him skeptically.
He took my hand in his and pulled out a stick of eye black and a purple marker from the bag he’d set next to him.
I clenched my jaws together to keep from gaping my mouth open in shock as he swiped a layer of eye black onto his lips and kissed the back of my hand.
When he pulled away, I stared at the print his lips made, and didn’t see him grab the marker until he was writing on the back of my hand. After a few moments, he pulled the marker away and capped it, leaving me to stare at where he’d written his number right above the kiss mark.
He let go of my hand and slipped the eye black and marker back into his bag, before placing his elbows on the table, resting his chin in his hands, and cocking his head to the side.
“That prove it?”
