ONE
“I GOT IN!” Zen shouts, abandoning his laptop on the couch and sprinting across the hall to hug Mum.
“I knew you would, smartass. Colour me surprised,” I say from the opposite end of the couch, arms crossed but lips twitching.
“Is that a smile I see on your face, Miss Eva Bennett?” Mum asks mid-hug, glancing at me over Zen’s shoulder.
“Turns out I do possess an ability to feel emotions,” I reply.
“Uh-huh. You’re just too good at pretending you don’t.” Zen strides over to me, arms outstretched, a grin so wide it could light up the entire room. His dream has finally come true, and it is written all over his face.
“You know I don’t do hugs,” I say, backing away. “Let’s shake hands, shall we?”
“And here I thought she was finally starting to act human-like…”
Zen’s gotten into medical school, something he’d dreamed of since he was five. And God, I’m so proud. We’re twins, just two minutes apart. We look nearly identical, yet we couldn’t be more different. Zen never loses his temper, not at school when kids mock him for always being sick, and not at home when Dad storms in drunk, smashing everything in sight. Me? I’m the opposite. I throw punches at anyone who dares to hurt the two people I love most— Zen and Mum. Doesn’t matter if it’s a boy twice my size calling Zen a “germ magnet” or our father barging in, raging. I learned karate as a kid, and channeling all that anger into a solid kick is second nature now. Zen even calls me his favourite ‘ninja’.
Zen has his whole life mapped out. I, on the other hand, have no idea what I’m doing tomorrow. He’s gentle, loved by everyone. I don’t have friends— apparently, I “can’t deal with people’s crap.”
A big part of who I am is shaped by Mum and Dad’s disastrous relationship. It was toxic enough that Mum finally walked away when we were ten, realizing some things just aren’t worth saving.
I have grown up hating that man. And somewhere along the way, I’ve started hating myself too, because half of me comes from him. No matter how much I say I’m not like him, people still see it— the sharp tongue and the goddamn temper.
I’m grateful I don’t look anything like him. Seeing his face in the mirror every day would’ve been my last straw. I look like Mum, mostly. Except for the hazel eyes that Mum says Zen and I got from Nanna.
“What’s next for you, love?” Mum asks gently, nudging me. She’s hoping I’ve figured things out by now. But I haven’t. Not even close.
“Tired of seeing my face every day now that you want to ship me off to college too?” I joke, trying not to sound harsh. I never mean to be rude to Mum. But somehow, I always am.
“You know that’s not it. I just don’t want to see your talent go to waste. You could do so much, if you put your mind to it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’ll think about it— I promise.”
I made that promise every day. And deep down, I knew Mum was right. But the truth was, I never really thought about it. I don’t know why I couldn’t bring myself to. And that scared me more than anything.
And just like that, another day slipped away. I went to bed, feeling like I’d failed myself all over again.
My eyes snap open the next morning. My head feels heavy, like I’ve slept too much. I reach toward my bedside table, expecting to hit snooze on the alarm that clearly failed to wake me, but my hand grabs at air. There’s no table. There’s no alarm clock.
Instead, standing where my bedside table should be is a girl— around my age— staring straight into my soul with wide, ocean-blue eyes. Her hair, dyed the same shade of blue, hovers just above my face like she’s been leaning over me.
“What the f—” I shriek, scrambling up.
“I see you’re finally awake,” she says in her almost fairy-like voice.
I glance around the room. The bed I’m on isn’t too different from mine at home, except it’s a bunk bed with a ladder leading up to the top. Across the room are two desks— one looks untouched, the other plastered with notes and papers like those desks at the school library. Two doors stand at opposite ends— one by the desks, another between two oddly shaped wardrobes.
“Hi, I’m Ivy. Ivy Hays,” the girl says cheerfully, as if this is a perfectly normal introduction.
“Where the hell am I? And who the fuck are you?” I snap.
“Well, a normal person might say hi back.”
“The fuck they won’t.”
“Do y’all only speak in fucks?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Answer the question, will you?”
“I did. I’m Ivy. And this is your dorm room at Cedarville University.”
“Stop making names up.”
“I know Ivy sounds fancy, but I swear it’s real.”
“I meant the Cedarville part. That doesn’t exist anywhere near where I live.”
“Of course it doesn’t. Not in your world.”
“What do you mean my world?” I demand, swinging my legs over the bed and walking straight to the nearest door.
The hallway outside looks like something out of a hotel— identical doors on either side, rooms numbered from 301 to 320. What the hell? I don’t remember enrolling in any university. Is this some kind of a memory loss? With no other option, I turn back to the only human I’ve seen here.
“Knew you’d come back,” Ivy says smugly.
“How did I end up here? The last thing I remember is falling asleep in my bed—my house.”
“No clue,” she replies. “You were already here, asleep, when I walked in.”
“And when was that?”
“This morning around seven. My parents dropped me off. I studied for three hours, then saw you stirring and figured I’d say hello. Still don’t know who you are, by the way.”
“You did this—” I point to the avalanche of notes covering her desk and half the wall, “—in three hours?”
“I know, I could’ve done more. But hey, it’s only the first day—”
“I haven’t made that many notes in my entire life.”
“Seriously? You guys don’t study much in your world?”
“Are you trying to say we’re not from the same world? Am I missing something here?”
“Well, Cedarville isn’t part of any normal world. It’s a place designed for people like us— smart people— to reach our full potential. My dad always says, people who aren’t useful to society shouldn’t be part of it.”
You can do so much if you put your mind to it.
“That’s complete bullshit. My twin brother’s smarter than I’ll ever be. He should’ve been brought here first, if that were true. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”
“They’ll help you figure it out. They always do.”
“What about my mum? She’s going to lose her mind when she sees I’m gone—”
“She won’t remember you.”
“What?”
“People from your world don’t retain any memory of you once you’re here. You’re basically erased from their reality. It’s just how it works. Or… at least that’s how I think it works.”
“You’re kidding. Right?” My voice trembles.
Ivy shakes her head solemnly.
“What about your parents?”
“They’re both from this world. Met at Cedarville, fell in love, had me. This place is kind of a legacy thing.”
“But I didn’t choose this. None of this is something I signed up for.”
“No one really does. People never believe it at first— especially the ones from your world. But eventually… they accept it. You will too. You’ve been chosen. You don’t get a choice.”
My chest tightens, because I have a feeling what I’m about to witness isn’t going to be great.
“Get dressed,” Ivy says softly, nodding toward the wardrobe. “You’ll understand more once you see it for yourself.”
Okay, I still don’t believe a word Ivy was blabbering, but I change into the clothes someone already folded in my wardrobe anyway. Might as well play along while I figure out what the hell is going on.
I follow Ivy out. She’s practically skipping her way to what looks like the main ground. Hundreds of students are gathered, all wearing the same dull shade of grey I’m in. Some stand in quiet groups, some alone, but chaos buzzes all around us. A pack of tall girls are clustered in the center, laughing at younger ones who look as terrified as I feel. Under a large banyan tree, a group of boys are huddled and one of them is practically losing it.
“I knew this was a punishment,” he groans, tugging at his hair. “Dad’s been threatening boarding school since forever and now he’s actually done it! This has to be it. I should’ve just studied for that stupid history test instead of playing basketball…”
That’s when it clicks—he’s confused too. Just like me. Not everyone here belongs the way Ivy does. I’m not alone.
“Hey,” I say, walking over, even though I’m not someone you’d normally see starting conversations. “What’s the last thing you remember from… well, your normal life?”
His eyes light up, like hope just landed in front of him. “I don’t know—basketball? My dad yelling at me for failing history. I went to bed pissed off and then… woke up here.” He runs a hand through his hair. “FINALLY! Someone else who gets it! They keep saying I was chosen—me? I failed history. No way they’d pick me for some elite brainiac university. This is all a mistake. It has to be.”
“ATTENTION EVERYONE.”
The voice cuts through the air like a blade. I whip around. A man— maybe in his late thirties—stands at the edge of the field, eyes sharp and unsettlingly locked on me. Or maybe that’s just how his eyes look— too shiny, too familiar. Like mine in the sun.
“Line up,” he says smoothly. “Sir Augustus will be here shortly to begin the start-of-year address.”
“What, are we eleven?” I mutter louder than I should.
Reluctantly, the crowd starts forming lines like trained little soldiers. Another man, probably in his forties and less cold-looking, walks forward and takes his place beside the first.
“Thank you, Aiden,” he says. So that’s his name. Aiden gives a short nod and steps back.
The new man scans us all with the kind of pride dictators must feel watching their empire. “I am Karl Augustus, Headmaster of Cedarville University,” he says, like he’s done this a hundred times already. “You’ve already met Aiden Carter, our Physical Health Manager. And now—welcome.”
“As you all know, this is no ordinary institution. Cedarville is a sanctuary—a world built for the capable, the gifted, the chosen few. Here, we cultivate brilliance. We believe those with the intellect to shape the world should not be shackled by those who can’t.”
What the hell?
“We are building a future— undefeatable, unchallenged, untouchable. And you—“ he pauses, eyes sweeping across us again—“you are its foundation.”
Everyone starts clapping. Thunderous, robotic applause. I don’t know why. All he did was spew a load of superiority complex wrapped in a movie villain monologue.
This isn’t right. None of this feels right. What even is this place? Who decided I was “capable” enough to be here? Or the guy next to me who failed history? How is this building a better world? And more importantly, why is no one questioning any of this?
I think of Mum. Of Zen. Could she really forget me? Could my brother think he’s an only child now?
No. I don’t belong here.
And I have to go back.
