The clock had long since ticked past midnight when I finally slid beneath my sheets, but despite the late hour, sleep proved elusive. Thoughts of the note—its jagged handwriting and the shadowy implications—clung to my mind like a stubborn fog, weaving their way through every restless moment.
Even with classes not starting until ten, by the time the third lecture dragged on, my eyelids were heavy, my concentration a fragile thread barely holding. My fingers curled tightly around the small silver dove pendant hanging from my neck, a talisman against the storm of guilt swirling within me.
Was I responsible? The question gnawed at me; I kept circling back to it. Maybe if I hadn’t been the last person Charlie spoke to—if our final words had played out differently—he might still be here. The thought was poison, but it refused to be ignored.
"This professor could put a statue to sleep," Bianca muttered beside me, her voice a rough whisper over the drone of the lecture.
Relieved by her comment, I unclenched the pendant and allowed my fingers to relax. Bianca and I had claimed our usual seats at the back of the hall for Human Anatomy and Physiology, a class notorious for its slow pace and dense material. Our lecturer looked like a man who had been ready to retire long ago, his words meandering through the room in a slow, hypnotic drawl.
"Just a couple more hours until the Club Fair," I whispered, offering her a small, hopeful smile.
"Says the girl who hasn't taken notes since the first twenty minutes," Bianca teased, arching a brow.
"Guilty as charged," I admitted with a sheepish grin.
When the lecture mercifully ended, the hall emptied slowly, students moving like shadows toward the quad. The spring sunlight filtered through the oak leaves, dappling the campus with shifting patterns of light and shade. The air was thick with the mingled scents of fresh grass, coffee, and anticipation.
"Let’s track down Megan," Bianca said, tugging my arm gently as we weaved between the booths alive with color and noise.
The cheerleading team’s booth was a splash of black, red, and silver—our university colors—bright against the backdrop of vibrant banners fluttering in the breeze. A group of cheerleaders, radiant and confident in matching dresses, greeted us with broad smiles.
“Bianca!” Megan exclaimed, pulling her into a warm embrace. Her black hair gleamed like polished onyx, and her skin glowed with the kind of natural warmth that made the sun seem dim.
“And you must be Lucy,” she added, turning to me with a knowing smile. “You’ve definitely blossomed since high school.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I twisted the hem of my blouse, searching the ground for something less mortifying to focus on.
Megan had been our senior during high school and the previous cheerleading captain before Bianca had taken over the reins.
“I’m here to join the squad,” Bianca announced, practically buzzing with excitement.
“Of course! Here’s the form,” Megan said, sliding a brightly colored sheet across the table. Then, with a teasing smirk, she glanced at me. “So, Lucy, are you signing up this year? You’re not fooling anyone with that modest blouse and loose dress—I can tell there’s a fire hidden under all that fabric.”
The flush on my face deepened, and I avoided Megan’s gaze completely.
“Nah, she’s not our type,” Bianca said with a playful smirk, finishing her form. “She thinks cheerleading’s just for girls without brains.”
“Wait, I never said that—”
“Touché,” Megan interrupted, giving me a single look of quiet disappointment before turning back to Bianca. “Well, I know you won’t let us down.”
“Can’t wait to get started,” my friend grinned, eyes shining.
After wrapping up with the cheerleaders, Bianca and I wandered past the sport booths. The scent of fresh-cut grass mingled with the faint rubbery tang of basketballs and the sharp crack of baseball bats echoed faintly in the distance.
“Why did you say that about cheerleading?” I asked quietly, eyes fixed on my worn loafers. “I always admired your team. I never missed a game…”
“It was a jab, Lucy. Stop drowning in self-pity,” Bianca said lightly, bumping my shoulder.
We drifted toward the baseball booth. Jace wasn’t around, but two familiar figures caught my eye—George, my stepbrother, sprawled in a chair with a cap pulled low over his eyes, and Lucas, who was handing out flyers with his usual grim expression.
Lucas, with his baseball jacket and rolled-up sleeves, looked even more menacing than usual. Despite the tension he'd always carried, I found myself surprised by the faint smile tugging at my lips.
“Did you know Lucas’s here?” I whispered, nodding toward him. “He’s Charlie’s older brother.”
Bianca’s face paled, the color draining despite her carefully applied makeup.
“That guy gives me the creeps. Let’s move away from here.”
“What? Why? It’s been a tough day for him—”
“Come on,” she interrupted, pulling me along. “I just don’t like being near him.”
We slipped away from the sports area and veered toward the more artistic clubs, where laughter and chatter took on a lighter, more carefree tone.
“I just can’t shake it,” Bianca muttered, voice low. “Look at him—he doesn’t even look sad about Charlie. He just looks like trouble.”
“Maybe that’s his way of dealing with it,” I ventured cautiously.
“Always the naive one,” Bianca said sharply. “You’re just too soft sometimes.”
I bit back a response, the note from yesterday hovering dangerously close to the surface of my thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.
“Fine,” Bianca sighed. “Just promise me you’ll stay away from him.”
I nodded, linking my arm with hers as we continued exploring the fair. Our next stop was the Fine Arts Club, where a student was sketching faces with swift, confident strokes. His blazer and jeans were spattered with paint, and his long black hair fell in tangled waves that he brushed back with charcoal-stained fingers.
“He’s pretty cute,” Bianca remarked, shooting a glance at me. “Want me to snag his number for you?”
A warm blush crept up my neck as I stole a glance at the artist again. His features were sharp and somewhat Victorian in their elegance, offset by multiple piercings in his ears that gave him an edge.
His name was Wikus, I recalled—Jace had introduced us during orientation.
Bianca smiled knowingly, but just then, a soft murmur of applause floated from a nearby stage where the drama club was preparing their showcase. The vibrant energy of the fair mingled with my swirling thoughts, a strange comfort amid the chaos inside my mind.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the quad, I felt a quiet resolve settle over me. Despite the doubts and fears, there was something compelling about this place—the tangled friendships, the whispered secrets—and the possibility that, maybe, I could find my footing here after all.