Page 26 of Don’t Forget Me

“It’s 11 a.m. I’ve been awake since eight.”

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” I yelled, flying out of my bed and pulling my luggage open.

“I tried. You sat up and then plopped back down.”

I groaned. “I wanted to go sightseeing before Orientation. I won’t have time after today. We start classes in two days, and tomorrow I have to⁠—”

“Why don’t you calm down and breathe? You have a year and a half to explore the wonders of Scotland,” Camille said, reaching for my hands.

True. There was no point in freaking out. I just wanted to immerse myself in my new life, immediately. Perhaps the best choice was to take things slow and steady. This was just the beginning. Despite telling myself that everything would be okay if I didn’t explore as much as I could of this new land.

No one knew how important this was to me. To be able to have freedom from watchful eyes and scornful remarks. I’d be able to forget how abandoned I felt in my old town. There would never again be reminders of the pain, of the abuse, of the fear everywhere. Although I wished to share my grief with someone else, I had not found a trustworthy heart yet. My burdens would continue to weigh me down as I wandered this world, searching for someone who would take my sorrows and transform them into joy.

“Are you just going to sit there? Come on! Get ready, they’re going to be here soon.”

“You know, I appreciate that they are giving us time to rest and settle into our dorms before showing us the school and giving us our schedules,” I replied.

“That just proves to both of us that we made the right decision coming here,” Camille said, unable to hide her happiness.

I scuffled through my luggage and began to take out my clothes, undergarments, and tools.

When I finished, I was happy with my result. I had brought with me several of my favorite books, which I stacked beside my green journal. My pens and pencils were set neatly inside a round cup.

There was also a candelabra attached to the wall in front of me, and I hung a calendar beneath it. I set my new gifted laptop on its holder, and a keyboard with a matching mouse under it. The school was definitely generous with its students.

This was the perfect desk. I couldn’t believe the aesthetic of my new worktable. Some of my best work would be produced on this desk, I was determined to make it happen.

I didn’t open up the laptop since I knew the administrators and guidance counselors would be here soon to take us on a tour around the academy. I would receive my new schedule, possibly meet my professors, and check out my classes so I wouldn’t be late on my first day.

The knock on the door sent a rush through me. Change began now.

The administrators were waiting outside with gleaming expressions. Camille and I followed them. There had been students strolling among the halls, some of them scanning us while others continued their conversations with each other. I chose to keep my chin held high.

thirteen

LYSANDRA

5 YEARS AGO

Two days later, I walked into my new seminar. Several heads turned toward me.

They must’ve noticed how bland I seemed. Brown hair, brown eyes, beige skin. I wished Camille had been in this class with me. Her excitement would’ve give me confidence.

It was then that I noticed the young man from the night I arrived staring at me too. His smug grin infuriated me in seconds; it’s like he thought I was stupid and naive. My fingers curled tight around my binder, leaving marks between my palms.

“Everyone, let’s welcome Lysandra Guerrera from the United States. She is an international student who will be completing her studies here at Blackthorn House Academy. Please give her a warm welcome.”

I gave them a pained smile with a small wave. The students chanted in a monotonous tone, “Welcome, Lysandra.”

Their lips were shut and their brows knitted together. I was an anomaly to them. A stranger. The unknown. And it seemed like I was also unwelcome. But I gulped down my embarrassment and gave a silent nod before heading to the back of the lecture hall.

The boy with raven-black hair and the dark blue vest gave me a tighter smirk. I sneered in return, my hands hadn’t been curled around my binder only because of anger, but also with anxiety.

Today, I intended to observe everything and everyone here. I would get to know each person in this classroom, that way I’d know who to avoid and who to befriend. But I already knew that avoiding Ezra was a given; I knew he wasn’t worth it. I could tell that he was far from good news from the way his lips curled. I already hated him. His pride suffocated the air around him, leaving me almost completely breathless.

Not just his pride, though, his good looks too.

He watched me slowly with that same drowning expression as I made my way to the edge of the hall. I wanted to smack that smile off his face. I shifted my gaze toward the teacher. I examined the professor in her plaid trousers, loafers with gold chains, and ruffled white blouse. She seemed young, probably not much older than rest of us.