The Source E-Book

C.S. Luis

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

After the death of her parents, Claudia Belle is sent to live with her grandfather. The principal of the local high school, he also shares Claudia's unique, unnatural gift.

But after tragedy hits once again, Claudia finds herself in a difficult position. When a new principal takes over at Milton High, sparks begin to fly between Claudia and the principal's son. He makes her feel safe, but out there - somewhere - is another connection she feels just as deeply.

With her entire life changing more quickly than she ever would have imagined, Claudia doesn't know where to turn or who to trust. Can she navigate this new world she's been thrust into?

Leseprobe

THE SOURCE

C.S LUIS

Copyright © 2019 by C.S. Luis

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2019 by Next Chapter Published 2019 by Next Chapter

Edited by Kathrin Hutson

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locals, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

CONTENTS

Proem - Extraction

1. Belle’s Ring

2. Arrival

3. A New Home

4. Presence

5. The Gift

6. Family History

7. The Balance

8. The Shadow in the Hall

9. High School Acquaintance

10. The Man in the Black Suit and Red Tie

11. The End is Always the Beginning

12. Michael McClellan

13. Goodbye

14. Milton High in Mourning

15. The Lecture

16. Lunch Group

17. Among Friends

18. Goth Girl

19. The Eerie Sound

20. Invited Guest

21. The Mysterious Quentin

22. The Morning After

23. The Absent

24. Troublemaker

25. At the Principal’s Office

26. Denial

27. Memories

Next in the Series:

About the Author

PROEM - EXTRACTION

Glass prison cells lined the long white corridors, the lights of sensor mechanisms blinking on and off. In one such cell, a young woman with smooth skin untouched by the sunlight lay upon a bed. Strands of long black hair draped across the white linen pillow. Within her diamond-shaped face, delicate cheekbones rose above full, rosy lips.

She lay far too still, dressed in a white, long-sleeved shirt and pants. Only when she took a breath and the sheets shifted did she reveal any sign of being alive. A steel collar hugged her neck, tiny green lights along the outer edge flashing across the surface with her breathing pattern. This blinking also mimicked the pattern of similar lights in the corner of the room, near the entrance. When the green flashed to yellow, her body seemed to relax. Her once stiff muscles eased, allowing movement once again.

Her eyes opened.

“Hello?” the woman whispered, staring up at the white ceiling. She was alone, but something had awakened her. She looked around, now remembering where she was with an unagonizing certainty. Her dreams provided the only release from this reality.

The same day repeated itself—tests and challenges. She recalled a flash of her earlier days, sitting across from a man in white. Her sisters called them the Whitecoats. Some wore a black or blue uniform with strange red emblems on the side of the arm. Those were the guards, who brought her to the room for conducted tests.

The tests were always the same.

There was always a wall between them, the lower half solid and the upper half glass. The Whitecoat asked questions using only his mind and allowed her to read his thoughts. She thought it a boring game; she always answered correctly.

Sometimes, she was unstable; that was what they called it. His nose would bleed, a smile wrinkling her lip until a violent shock raced through her body. Then she dropped. That was what the collar did when they activated it. It had happened the day before, and she’d stayed in her quarters, still as a board and unable to move. Perhaps it was her punishment. Of course, they wanted control over those in containment.

She was, after all, a prisoner of the men in white coats. She was special, they said. She was among the few others who could talk to them—the creatures in the containers, those same beings she found in her dreams.

Had she heard a voice calling to her just before she opened her eyes, or was it all inside her head? She pulled the cotton sheet off her body, crawled to the side of the bed, swung her legs over the edge, and sat up.

‘Maya.’ This time, she was sure she heard it. A whisper somewhere, hidden behind or even traveling through the vents. No, it was in her head.

The small room she occupied had no windows, only the clear glass door revealing the outside hall—stark and sterilized. She knew the corridor’s dimensions by heart. She saw it in her dreams.

‘Maya.’ The voicewas clearly in her head. Someone was trying to reach her.

‘Quinn?’

‘Yes…’

‘I hear you. Where are you?’

‘Who are you?’ she’d asked.

‘Someone who loves you. Do you not sense it?’

The collar’s shock set her upright. A needle pierced her skin, and his voice faded.

He found her mind during tests and experiments—her first indication he was real. The collar and their needles subdued both her skills and their link with each other. Control. He taught her the skill, the craft of their connection, and with time, she had mastered certain movements.

‘You’re getting stronger,’ he’d told her with pride.

Their life unfolded in her mind, and a vast civilization flourished; she was part of that world. He stood beside her, holding her in his arms and observing the world with her.

“We once had a life together,” he said. “We came from the stars. A lot was lost. Including loved ones.” He turned to look at her. “But I found you again.”

“What happened to our world?” She knew this was now what she saw before them—a once lively and beautiful planet, diminished, depleted resources and vast, cluttered landfills of waste. The air had thinned, becoming unbearable. Fires took the place of green fields, destroying the few remaining crops. Skies darkened, and storms increased. They stood watching it unfold.

“We took and took until there was nothing more to use. We killed everything for power, and on the brink of finding a solution—our breakthrough—we created more chaos.”

Crystals lit the corridors of a vessel traveling in the deep expanse of space, the corner line with a black tar stained the surface of the space’s floor and hibernation chambers.

“They’re beautiful,” she said.

“They’re deadly…” he whispered. “We destroyed our only home. The crystals only brought disease, and the tar came after.” She found sadness in his voice, disappointment in his purple eyes.

When they were together, it seemed they existed alone in another plane; their connection had achieved a deeper bond not even the Whitecoats could detect or possibly understand. The world he had once known was now gone; she knew this because he did. His people’s search for a new home had brought them to earth—and to her.

‘I’m close. Closer than you think, my love… Come to me. It’s time.’ His words brought her back to this reality—a reality she hated.

She rose from the side of the bed, the dressings of a white linen uniform caressing her form. The red markings on her collar was identical to his. The bed’s metal frame had been etched with single lines to record her time there. How many days had it been? How many years? She’d scratched eighteen lines in the metal before he found her, and then she’d stopped counting the days; she couldn’t be sure how many more she’d spent within these walls.

‘Come to me, Maya. Please,’ he begged. ‘I need you more than ever. Don’t let them keep us apart any longer. I want you close. Come to me. Please…’ She missed his arms around her and yearned for the comfort of his presence in this reality.

‘I miss you too. I love you.’ A surge of energy flooded her body, reaching out from an unknown place where he dwelled in the darkness, like a current racing from one end to the other until they were linked, mentally and spiritually. “The genetic disorder,” the Whitecoats called it. For her, it was love.

‘How? I can’t—’ She froze.

‘Yes, you can. Trust me,’ he said.

She pressed her face against the glass of the door, feeling the energy run through her fingertips. The lock above the door was electrically charged, the mechanism operating just like the collar around her neck. She reached out to touch the metal choker. Her fully charged fingers sent a shock through it, and it dropped with a clang at her feet.

‘Together we are stronger,’ he whispered. They had practiced the act repeatedly; several times, she’d taken the brunt of the powerful force, leaving her immobile for the rest of the day. They’d learned how to change the pattern. Then she’d discovered a brief moment when the collar was less active inside the cell.

‘Together we are stronger. They don’t know the strength of our power.’

The switch above blinked off, and the locked door popped open.

She stepped into the corridor, white ceilings and walls stretching in each direction. Rooms like hers lined the hallway.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ he said. ‘Maya, hurry. There’s no time to waste…’

She raced to one end of the corridor; above her, the air vent rattled. The screws slowly fell from their sockets onto the floor, each landing with a light thud in her open palm. The grate over the vent followed. Maya caught it quickly and placed it on the floor. Then she leaped to grasp the lip of the ventilation shaft, pulled herself up, and disappeared into the darkness.

“I’m coming,” she whispered.

The vents composed a vast a labyrinth, made of so many twists and turns to open into other corridors where guards patrolled the halls. Maya despised those brutes.

She crawled forward, his voice leading the way. ‘Don’t be afraid. Once you are here, we will be together forever, and no one will separate us,’ he encouraged.

An image of a young man dressed in black leather attire flashed in her mind; he waited. He was there in her dreams and in her thoughts. His face was creamy white, locks of dark hair cut short and practical. His purple, almond-shaped eyes gazed back at her from some dark place.

Her uniform caught on a loose screw in the vent walls, ripping when she pulled it away. Distant voices caught her attention, carried up to her by a nearby vent. She leaned toward the grate for a closer look.

The room was large and white, filled with lab equipment. A large container held a figure, dressed in a scaly, leather uniform, sitting within it. She recognized the uniform. Quinn wore one just like it.

“Careful,” a male voice warned. At the far side of the room, she caught the movement of a mechanical arm. She couldn’t clearly see what was happening.

“The cells are splitting. It’s working!” another man exclaimed from the other end of the room. “Congratulations, Dr. Nicholson. It appears the procedure was a success.”

“I never doubted it,” a third, much darker voice replied.

“Do you realize what you’ve created here, sir? We must notify The Company immediately…”

Their conversation filtered away as Maya lost interest and prepared to move on through the vent. She couldn’t gauge the full scope of what had happened from her position in the ventilation shaft, no matter how closely she looked.

She stopped when a loud thump followed by the crackle of shattering glass rose from the room, and she glanced behind her to peer through the grate once more. A body lay on the floor below her, then she heard another loud crash. Sparks flew and smoke billowed in the room.

A stifled cry squeezed through her throat, but she covered it with her hand. Another figure now stood over the motionless body as flames rose, consuming and destroying everything inside the white walls.

The figure, barely visible, looked up at the vent. Maya felt sure he saw her, could feel him staring hard into her deep, dark eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t move; her lip quivered. Then the man was gone.

Maya hurried through the vent. An alarm wailed and lights flashed from all directions. “Warning! Alien life forms have been detected.” The mechanical sound of the computer’s warning system echoed through the vents. “Alien life forms have been detectedin Sector 10.Warning!Possible contamination…”

She reached the end of the vent and knocked open the grate before dropping down. A large, darkened space spread before her, the ceiling lamps above giving dim, ineffective light. In every direction, row upon row of containers held lifeless figures, floating in a liquid substance within the clear glass.

‘Maya,’ he called. She moved swiftly through the containers, which rattled when she passed them.

The alarms still sounded in every direction.

She hurried, sensing him closer than ever before. For a moment, she had to stop and drop to her knees, feeling suddenly weak. The containers shook and wobbled, cracks splintering in sections of glass. Steam and fluid spilled through the fissures, which snapped and sprayed more liquid through quickly widening cracks.

Maya whirled around to watch the other containers smoke and hiss. Then, one after the other exploded into countless pieces, filling the facility’s room with an icy mist.

The voice on the intercom spoke again:

“Warning! All containers in Sector 12 have been breached. Alien life forms have been detected. Warning all personnel. Evacuation protocol is in effect. All personnel, evacuation protocol is in effect. Warning! Alien life forms have been detected.”

Beautiful, pale faces with matted locks of hair and dressed in dark leather uniforms emerged from behind her. Maya struggled to rise but couldn’t lift herself, fear paralyzing her at the sight.

‘Maya.’ He emerged from the surrounding figures and extended his hand toward her. The others scattered away into the corridors.

“Maya,” Quinn said aloud. “We’ve been kept apart for far too long, my love.”

She reached for his hand, and he pulled her close.

“Alien life forms detected in Sector 10. All prisoners’ cells have been breached.”

“I’ve waited for this moment for far too long. To feel you in my arms, to have you by my side. My beloved Maya. They will pay for keeping us apart.” He lifted her in his arms as the ceiling above them began to crumble.

“Burn it down! Destroy everything!” he shouted. The ceiling fell away, and through the gap, beings ascended into the sky. In their arms rested the women they’d rescued—prisoners like Maya—friends, sisters.

Quinn ascended with them while the building, her prison, crumbled and burned. The skies crowded with the angels of her dreams. Maya closed her eyes, clinging to Quinn’s embrace as he lifted her into the heavens.

1

BELLE’S RING

March, Present Day

The plane landed in Houston, Texas. Father said he and Mother would arrive later that day. I thought it was strange, that I would go alone. I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t question it. I’d learned at a very early age never to question my parents’ ways.

“A car will be there to collect you,” he’d said. He’d handed my luggage to the chauffeur, who placed it in the trunk. “Just wait outside.”

Then the chauffeur opened the front passenger door to the black Range Rover, and my father ushered me toward it.

“You won’t be there?” I’d asked. This was sudden. Why was I just hearing about this now? My father gave me a stern look. I knew better then to keep pressing him, but I was angry.

“I have business to attend to in the morning…”

“What sort of business?” I said. “Can’t it wait? I thought we were going on a cruise. You said we were finally doing something together as a family.”

“Don’t argue with me. You know I have no choice in the matter. If I’m requested there, I have to be there.”

“And what’s Mother’s excuse? She doesn’t want to be alone with me?”

His brows furrowed. “If you’re trying to start a fight with me, it isn’t going to change my mind. You’ll be fine… until we arrive. As I instructed, a vehicle will be there to collect you.”

And that was that…

Now that I’d landed, I collected my bags from the baggage claim and made my way to the airport entrance. Outside, other travelers crowded the sidewalks, vehicles backed up in the lane to pick up friends and family.

I sat waiting, like my father instructed, until a Lincoln with tinted windows pulled to the curb. I wondered how pitiful I looked, sitting there waiting like an abandoned child. The door slowly opened, and for a moment I expected my father, even though he hated American cars.

A man in his thirties wearing a black suit and a pastel green tie stepped out. He was tall and slightly chubby. He didn’t smile. The nest of his dark hair sat in disarray, and the dark circles beneath his eyes seemed to indicate he’d been up late. My first impression of him was that of a highly unprofessional and disorganized person. His suit was a little too big, the pant legs were far too loose around his calves and ankles, and his tie was an ugly color.

He knew who I was before I could introduce myself. “Miss Claudia Belle?” he asked as he approached.

Curiously, I looked up at his face, afraid of what he would reveal.

He dipped his head slightly; his eyes took on a deep sadness. I already knew long before he told me.

I answered, “Yes?”

He took a breath. “I'm Mr. West, a friend of your father’s.” The world continued around us without the slightest care.

For a long moment, I didn’t say a word, afraid to see his thoughts plastered across his tired face. Tears pooled in the corners of my eyes, and a tiny gasp escaped me.

“He asked me to come.” Mr. West paused like he also found it hard to talk. “I'm afraid I have some terrible news,” he added, and I choked back a sob. “Your parents have been in an accident,” he finally managed. A tear rolled down my cheek. I gazed at him, my eyes wide open. “I'm sorry.”

Speechless, I sat there and cried, wiping at the tears breaking loose from my eyes. I didn't know what to say. I didn't believe it, but it was the truth. I knew it.

“Is that why you’re here?” I asked, trying to stop myself from crying, but it was no use.

“I was instructed to take you to a friend,” he said. He opened the door of the Lincoln. At any other time, I would not have believed a stranger. Of course, no one in their right mind would have just accepted anything so outrageous without certain proof, but I knew how to tell a person’s truths from their lies. Mostly, I heard it in their thoughts..

I wanted to run from the truth, from him and everything real, but I just stood there. He held open the door of the Lincoln and gazed at me.

“I have something for you from your father. He instructed me to give it to you, if anything ever were to happen to him or your mother…”

I took a breath and climbed into the Lincoln. The chauffeur stepped out of the driver’s seat and grabbed hold of my luggage. Mr. West closed the door behind me and climbed into the car. It was quiet for a moment before the chauffeur took his seat again and drove.

“Your father made this for you,” Mr. West said. “He asked me to come, if anything ever happened. I’m an attorney.”

“Are you my father’s attorney?” I asked. He wasn’t, I suddenly realized.

He took a moment. “I helped your father make the arrangements with my client.”

“Arrangements?” But he didn’t answer, busy pulling a device from his briefcase.

I already knew. Father had hired him to handle the paperwork for someone else. I stared at Mr. West, and one name rang clearly from his mind—Edwards. This Edwards was someone my father had trusted.

He took out an iPad. “He asked me to give you a message.”

“What is it?” Mr. West angled the device toward me, and I realized it was a video. When I grabbed the iPad and pressed play, my father’s face appeared on the screen.

“Claudia,” he said, “if you’re seeing this, then I’m afraid...” He paused. “You must listen very carefully. Listen to what Mr. West tells you. I can't fully explain everything, but with time, you will discover the truth on your own. Right now, you must go with Mr. West. I've secured a place for you with a person I trust. He will care for you now. All the arrangements have been made for your comfort and your safety. You must believe me, that I did all this to protect you. We love you. Never forget that. We love you.”

“Nicholas, please let me…” my mother pleaded off camera. “I love you…” she said before breaking into sobs, unable to continue.

“Stay safe…” Those were my father’s last words, and then the image was lost.

Mr. West pulled the iPad back and tucked it into his briefcase, sitting up silently. “That’s the message. I received word of the accident early this morning. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Early this morning, I thought. I had left the night before. He said a car would be there for me. I thought he meant a car with him and my mother inside it. Or perhaps he’d planned on sending a company vehicle. He said we were going on a family vacation. Then his job called, and things changed. It felt oddly staged.

“All final burial arrangements have been taken care of by your father’s employer. The details are in these documents.” Mr. West pulled a stack of papers from his briefcase. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“I don’t understand. We were going on a cruise… and now…” The car exited the airport pick-up lane and turned onto the exit road that would take us out to the highway.

“Honey, did you hear what I said?” he asked.

“How did they die?” I asked.

Mr. West looked at me with wide, surprised eyes, hesitant to answer. “They were hit by a passing truck on their way to the airport…” As far as he believed it, that was what happened. It was all he knew. “It was a bad accident. Nothing anyone could have done.” He returned to his documents.

“Where will the funeral be held?” I asked, looking down at my lap.

“There won’t be one. Your father’s employer gave specific instructions on the handling of your parents’ remains. Their bodies will be cremated immediately. Your father signed off on this before he died.”

I glared at him. I was their daughter. Didn’t I have any say in this?

Mr. West’s phone rang, and through the muffled speaker, I heard the name Edwards again. “Yes, she’s with me now,” he said. “I’ve just picked her up at the airport. I’ll be dropping her off at your residence— No?” He frowned and blinked, unable to look at me. “That won’t be a problem. The school is fine. No, I won’t be coming in. I hope you understand. I have urgent business back at the office… Very well, then.”

“I want you to do something for me…”

A memory crept into my mind. I’d been standing outside my school at the end of the day, and he’d come to pick me up himself in his own car. Normally, he sent one for me, or if he ever decided to join me himself, he hired a driver and traveled with his security.

“What’s going on?” I joked, realizing he’d seen me looking around for his bodyguards. “Where your friends?” I got into the car and set my school bag on the floor between my feet.

“I gave them the day off,” he replied, but I could tell he was hiding something.

I took a moment to look at him. His blond hair was always so well groomed, and that day he wore a dark grey suit and black tie. I couldn’t recall ever seeing him in casual attire, even when we were alone at home. I often wondered how I could be his daughter and still look nothing like him.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked. There had to be reason for his decision to get me himself; he’d never gone out of his way to lose the bodyguards on my account. I pushed back my long brown hair and pulled it into a ponytail, then let it fall back over my shoulders.

“I can’t pick up my daughter from school?”

I made a face at him, noticing for the millionth time how light his skin was compared to my golden-brown tone. My mother was the same color.

Outside, other parents picked up their children and cars lined the side street, crowding the main road. Then he veered out of the pickup lane and drove forward, leaving it all behind.

“No, really. What’s this all about?” I asked.

He tried to smile, but it looked more like a grimace of disappointment. I thought maybe it pained him that our meetings always indicated something bad. “I just want to talk to you. See how things are going in your life. We haven’t talked—”

“We never talk, Dad.”

“Exactly. And that’s why… that’s why we should.”

I wished he would just tell me. I wanted to read his mind, but breaking that rule made him angry. I wasn’t supposed to do it with anyone, and I didn’t dare try it with him.

We took the long ride home and stopped at the ice cream store. When he pulled up in the parking lot, I didn’t know what to say. Was he dying? Were we going to have thetalk along with a cone of vanilla ice cream?

“What are we doing?” I asked.

He turned off the engine and smiled. “We’re getting ice cream.” Then he opened the door and got out.

I didn’t know what to think or what to make of it, and things seemed oddly normal until halfway through our after-school treat.

“I want you to do something for me…” he started. I knew it couldn’t have lasted—both of us happy and me finally meeting all his expectations. “Claudia, if something ever happens to me and your mother, I want you to forget.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. This was not the kind of conversation had with one’s father over ice cream. “Dad, stop.”

“No, listen. This is important, okay?”

I stared at his baby-blue eyes, unwavering in their deadly seriousness. We looked like an odd pair sitting there—him in his business suit, me in my school uniform, sitting in rigid silence with ice cream melting over our cones. People always gave us critical glances when we were out together. Dad ignored them with efficient detachment, but I was still learning—and I still worked on my control. Everything spun, pulled, and tugged at me, the voices of those around us growing louder, whispering their insecurities and suspicions. The minute he sensed I was losing it, he redirected me.

“Stop,” he snapped, and something inside me returned to normalcy—like it had never happened.

“Okay.”

“Things will happen that you can’t stop,” he continued. “Things you will not agree with, perhaps that you might think are not right. No matter what you feel, what you’ve lost… your things, your paintings… I want you to forget them. All of it. Including us.”

I wrinkle a brow. “What? Why?” I looked up in disbelief, and he’s just staring at me. No change, no emotion—I just had to do what he said.

“They’re nothing but things.”

“And you. And our memories. Are those just things?” I’d asked.

“Listen… Yes, but you don’t need them. Not when we’re in here.” He tapped his chest. “All those things can be replaced. Your clothes, your paints. The important difference is that you never worry about them. We might lose what we have, but they’re just things. Okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t make sense to me, but I agreed, just to keep from inciting an argument.

“Let them have those things.” He smiled and took a bite of vanilla. In that moment, I saw a peace in his eyes, but I still didn’t understand.

Let them have those things?

“So, you don’t have to worry about anything,” Mr. West continued, pulling me back to the car and our impossible situation. “All the arrangements have been taken care of. There’s nothing for you to be concerned about.” He gave a sympathetic half-smile.

“Who is Dr. Edwards?” I asked. The name kept popping into his head, and I had to bring it up, though I’d absolutely expected his wide-eyed reaction of shock.

“Your father gave specific instructions that you should be brought to Dr. Edwards if anything happened to him and your mother,” he said quickly. “Dr. Edwards is your grandfather.” He stopped, waiting for my reaction, but I didn’t have one.

I’d only known one man who was remotely close to grandfatherly, and Mr. Valentin was a rich man Father knew. Father brought me to see him a few times in his large, extravagant house. Apparently, the man had been like a parent to my own father, had raised him and given him the tools he needed to succeed. Father hated bringing me to see him; he always grew tense and irritable on the days we visited. But he always prepared me for the day. He told me to limit my power when I met with him. The man knew about our ability and it had made him rich.

“Never impress them,” he’d said. “If they ask you a question with their mind, don’t answer. The less you can do, the better.” So that was what I’d done. No matter what they did to test me, I never answered.

2

ARRIVAL

The Lincoln came to a stopped just outside an abandoned building. At least, it looked that way. At the side entrance, I caught a face or two peering through the door’s small windows. I cringed. Where had he taken me?

I pulled out my earbuds; the faded crash of Rammstein playing on my iPod would have to wait as I looked at our new surroundings. The building was definitely old, with an exciting creepiness to its deserted appearance. It was characterized by semi-circular arches of medieval European design, things I only saw in cathedrals. A Romanesque exterior—thick, round arches, sturdy pillars, and decorative arcading—seemed to be the only thing I enjoyed about the building at first glance. My father had been a great fan of architecture and had taken every opportunity to teach me what he knew of different styles.

A blond-haired man, who from this distance looked like an actor whose name I couldn’t remember—stepped through the front doors. With him was another very tall man with a greenish-gray suit and a thick mustache. They looked like a strange pair.

“This is it,” Mr. West said.

I looked over at Mr. West, who didn’t seem prepared to move though the driver was already opening his car door to get out.

“This is where you get out, my dear. I won’t be coming with you. I’m needed at the office. Don’t worry. Dr. Edwards is aware of your arrival.” He looked out the window.

“What is this place?” I asked, finding my voice at last. The sounds of my favorite band had me wishing I could go back to the world of industrial metal and muffle the cries of reality.

“This is Milton High School,” he said. I had a hard time believing my father had left me with a teacher. “Ah, and here he is now.”

Two more men joined the others through the double doors. Both were older, one with a full head of white hair. As he stepped onto the top rise of the staircase, his large eyes met mine from beneath thick black brows. He wore a gentle, patient smile.

The other man with him looked even older; he also had white hair, but it was thinning, and he was significantly heavier. They both wore white dress shirts and ties.

The driver took my one bag from the trunk.

“What will happen to my parents’ house?” I asked. “All our stuff? Will I be able to go back?” I wanted our picture albums, my paintings, all the things we’d shared.