Dead School

Erin

My Auntie Mabel drags me through to the place she calls my bedroom. It is a small, plain room in comparison with the luxury that they have here. “Pack your bags. You are going to boarding school tomorrow.”

The door slams shut, and I sink down onto my bed, tears already falling. It has been barely a month since Mom and Dad were in a fatal car crash, their bodies just freshly buried. Now I have become a burden to my hateful auntie.

I hear her talking to someone on the phone. She can’t wait to get rid of me, using the money Mom and Dad left to fund my education. At least if I can finish this last year of high school, I can get away from her for good.

I never liked or got on with my aunt, in the few times I’ve met her. But this is torture, having to live with her. Everything that was part of my life is now gone. My friends, school, home, parents. I’m living in a different state with my bitch of an auntie.

The old brown leather suitcase fits all of my clothes—just. I leave out a few items to get me through the next twelve hours. With only the TV for company, I lie on my bed and watch some nonsense.

I make my way through the house to the kitchen, where I find some food. Over the last month here, I’ve learned to stay out of her way until she disappears into her section of the house. Sometimes she comments on food missing, but what does she expect? Not to feed me?

When the next day comes, she arrives with a smile on her face, one I’d like to wipe off one day. “The driver will drop you off at the bus station. Here is your ticket.”

“That’s it? Where am I going?” She has said nothing about what this school is.

“It is all on the ticket.” She tuts at me. “Leave. What are you waiting for?” She bats me out with her hand.

I grab my case and place it beside me in the car and hold my head up high. There is no goodbye, or see you later. This is I’m not coming back — not that I’d want to.

The drive is long and silent, with the vast landscape unfolding like a muted film. Where the hell is he taking me? When he pulls up outside a small brick building with a bus stop, he opens my door and tells me this is where I get out.

Okay then. I clutch my case and chew on my bottom lip. “Are you sure this is the right stop?” My insides swirl with butterflies. I’m not usually nervous, but this place makes me feel like I shouldn’t be here.

He gives me a nod and then gets in and drives off. I push open the door into the building and find there is an information desk. Finally, life.

“Can you tell me when my bus arrives? It doesn’t have a time on the ticket.” I hand it over. They pick it up, look at it, then nod, pointing to the door I’ve just come in. “Okay—thanks.” I say and go back outside after taking my ticket back.

Does anybody not speak anymore? With a sigh, I plonk my ass down on a bench and feel the crusty brick wall against my back. I’m in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t have a phone because that bitch auntie broke mine. I hug my arms around myself and close my eyes. That’s it. I’m going to die out here.

When there is a hum in the distance, I open my eyes and shield my eyes as I strain to see what is coming. A bus comes into view, and thank God I’m not going to be out here all night.

It pulls up, and I stand clutching my ticket. This is my way out of here. The blacked-out windows create a sense of mystery, yet the bus exudes an aura of luxury. The door opens with a hiss, and I stand back.

“Ticket, please,” the driver half-growled.

Great, a driver who is in a terrible mood. This is going to be fun — not. With a roll of my eyes, I trudge up the steps and give him my ticket. He grimaces, the corners of his mouth turning down as he hands it back to me.

“Backseat, and don’t move.” Is what he says, and the doors hiss closed.

I move along the aisle and glance at the seats as I pass them. There is not a single soul here. Am I the first to get on? I placed my case in the hold above the seats near the back. He said backseat, but not a specific number. I sit in the middle so that I can see who gets on at the next stop—if there is one.

The windows are that dark, I can hardly see out of them. This is so strange. There is a low hum from a radio or something, but it feels weird, like I shouldn’t be here.

After some time, the bus slows and stops. I sit up in the seat and watch dutifully as the doors open and an exchange takes place. A musty smell drifts up the bus as the mysterious stranger climbs onboard.

Tall, muscular, and oh, so handsome. He flicks his dark brown hair back as he turns and walks up the aisle. Dark green eyes meet mine, and he freezes for a second. His nose turns up as if he is sniffing the air. What the hell is he doing? A low rumble of a growl comes from him as he continues up towards me.

He stops in front of me, pulls a face and grumbles under his breath as he puts his bag into the hold.

“What is your problem?” I whisper, but it comes out as a hiss. I didn’t leave a shitty home to be treated like dirt here as well.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he growls.

“Well, at least you talk. Unlike everyone else I’ve met so far. What is your name?” I might as well try to be friendly if we are going to the same place.

He sits in a seat in front of me, turns, and his gaze lingers over my face. “I’d keep that pretty mouth of yours closed, otherwise you are going to get into trouble.”

“Is everyone getting on this bus as grumpy as you?” Gosh, he really is handsome. Pity he is an asshole.

He grunts and shakes his head, looking forward. “You are going to be dead before you arrive,” he mutters under his breath.