THE PA SYSTEM SCREECHES muffled words of wisdom I can’t make out over sounds of the students in the hallway. The walls are caked with bright neon fliers, screaming:
Today is the first day of the rest of your life!
I still want to puke.
The Academy prides itself on reform. Bringing light to the dark. Changing the past for a better future. These fliers, their bright colors, are supposed to help eclipse our before. The lives we used to live. The things we did that brought us here.
It doesn’t matter if they dress us up in proper blazers or try to wipe away our personal identities with rules and regulations. We will still scramble to cling to our former sense of selves. It’s a battle of will. Because without the things that make us who we are, there’s nothing left.
I trail Hannah as she weaves through the crowd, my shoulders knocking into someone every so often. Scowls find me, trying to make me shrink. Blake Andrews, adrenaline junkie caught drag racing with his dad’s Tesla. Scowl. Sarah Daniels, actual junkie, jumping from rehab to rehab. Scowl. Drew Bailey brought a gun to school. Scowl.
There are never any whispers about Kayla and Hannah. I’ve never asked about their before, and they certainly never volunteered it. But Alexandra Shaw, she chose to kill her father.
Though despite what everyone thinks, that isn’t why I’m here. This is a reform school, but I’m not here to be reformed. After the accident, we needed a fresh start. Mom was able to get a job here, which afforded her living arrangements and private school education for her daughter. But try telling that to the other kids—I swear, I’m not like you; I’m just here for the free education!
Laughter trails behind me, whispers just loud enough for me to hear. Their words hook into me. I know I need to brush them off. I need a thicker skin. But I’m still working on that. I’m alone in the sea of sharks circling the waters, hunting for fresh blood.
"Alexandra!" My name pierces through the hum, sounding far more regal than I could ever be on the posh tongue of Kayla. She’s a beacon of safety in this shitstorm. Her blonde hair is slung casually over her shoulder, her sun-kissed skin practically glistening under the fluorescent lights. She’s a model posing for a fashion shoot—all angles and sharp features.
My shoulders relax. My breath levels out. Kayla, my hero.
As students pass, they cower at her presence. Kimberly Marshall fumbles through the crowd with a Yearbook-issued giant camera. She hesitates as she nears us. I can tell she wants to ask us to pose for a photo but is too nervous to speak. Kayla challenges her with a raised eyebrow and Kimberly immediately backs away. I’m sure her assignment is to capture at least one photo of Kayla and her squad. But apparently failing that assignment seems less of a danger than bothering Pine Cliff’s queen bee.
I don’t know why Kayla chose to pull me up to her level. But she did. I was timidly walking through the front doors of this school on my first day. Head down, hair a mass of red chaos around my face to hide the fading scars from the accident. There were whispers about me. I could hear them hanging in the air. I was the girl who killed her father. They all knew it. Some people stared. People like Kyle lashed out. But not Kayla. Kayla came right up to me, brushed the hair behind my ears, and smiled.
I like a girl who's been through some shit, she said with her confident smile and a wink in her eye. I don't know what I would have done without her those first few weeks. She led me through the school each day, as if I already belonged. Stood over me, batting away their questions and inquisitive looks.
Because of her, I always had a seat in the cafeteria at lunch, an ear to confide in, and an ally to draw strength from. New students rarely have the advantage of a protector, let alone one with school status that puts them six feet above everyone else.
"So, did you hear Brian is having a party Friday night?” Kayla hasn’t stopped talking since I met her. She’s a ball of energy, always fluttering around us. She’s how I know about all the school’s gossip, about everyone’s before. She carries people’s secrets in her back pocket, locked and loaded.
She would have heard about my scene in English class by now, but she’s too caught up in her own excitement to mention it. I choose to believe this is because she knows I’ll be ok. That I don’t need to be coddled. “Alexandra! A party? Andy is coming home with some of his uni mates and they’re buying a keg."
Brian’s brother Andy is an Academy alumnus, rather legendary among the rest of us living in his shadow. He’s the Academy’s success story, the poster child for their reform program. We’ve all seen his profile in the brochure. Heard how he knocked off some liquor store at thirteen and then his entire family up and moved to this nothing town. It’s unusual for whole families to relocate. Usually, they ship their delinquent child off to board here. But Andy’s family is an exception, forcing Brian to follow in his brother’s footsteps whether he had a before or not. They live in an Academy appointed house not far from the school. Similar to my mother and me.
Andy graduated a couple of years ago and is studying at Carver, one of the elite universities that every parent wants their kids to go to. Brian has some big shoes to fill and as far as I can tell, he has nothing but small feet.
“You know what it’s like when he comes back. Their parents let their guard down and their home turns into Disneyland. This party will be brilliant. More people, more opportunities… more mature boys…”
“Yo, is that all you ever think about? Boys?” On cue, Brian cuts into our conversation, pushing his way into our little huddle. Brian is basically that character from every ‘90s teen movie Kayla forced us to watch. You know the one with the goofy grin and the long, greasy hair. The one who skateboards to school and smokes weed out back between classes. Even with shorter hair and a uniform, he still has that slacker vibe about him.
“I only think about one boy, actually. You might know him, he looks a lot like you… only much, much better.” Kayla retorts, though there’s a flirtatious tone to her voice.
Brian feigns hurt, miming a knife to his heart. “One of these days, Kayla, I’ll show you that you’re better off with me than my idiot older brother.”
Kayla laughs at the word idiot, as if it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Hannah smothers a smirk with her hand, pulling her cardigan further over her fingers.
“You’ll come though, right? To the party?” Brian turns to me and shoves a bright pink flier into my hand. Big bold letters across the top read:
ARE YOU ONE OF THEM
“What is this trash?” Kayla grabs the flier from my hand. “Are you one of who? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Are you one of the cool kids invited to my party, duh,” Brian answers proudly, and Kayla rolls her eyes again. He always tries to be so mysterious; pretending everything he does is part of a secret, exclusive club. Though he never quite pulls it off.
Kayla crumples it up and tosses it to me, just missing Hannah. I catch it somehow and shove it into my locker along with my bag, knocking out some of my books.
Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro clatters to the floor, and Hannah immediately stoops down to grab it, almost protectively. She glances around as if she’s scared someone saw the book being poorly treated. I forgot she had loaned it to me weeks ago, saying I had to read it, but I haven’t.
Hannah’s always giving me books to read. The last book she slipped into my locker was The Bell Jar. I was sure it’d be a drag, but it resonated with me in a way I didn’t realize books could. Made me start to question who I was, who I wanted to be. I don’t know where she finds these books—our library here is all academic texts, I’ve never seen anything like what she reads here.
I smile sheepishly, about to apologize, but Kayla cuts in again.
"Alexandra will be there, right?” Kayla looks at me, exasperated. “Alexandra, are you even listening to me?”
I still don’t answer her as I try to focus on Hannah’s expression. I expected her to be hurt, but there’s something close to anger spreading across her face. Frustration. I am immediately guilty, though her reaction seems a little over the top. I try to focus. My line of sight is blurring, my head throbbing lightly behind my eyes. I blink them open and closed, open and closed.
The doctors told me the blurred vision was a residual issue from the head trauma of the accident and that it would go away with time. It's been six months, and nothing has changed.
“Alexandra?” Kayla tries again, shoving me with her shoulder.
"What? Yeah, whatever, I'll go," I mumble my response.
“Stubborn cow.” Kayla says, flashing me her brilliant smile.
“Preppy priss,” I respond, our little routine. Falling right in line.
I don't know if I will go to the party, but at least Kayla will bugger off for a few hours. She sashays away, the sea of students parting as she moves. The hallway a red carpet rolled out ahead of her treating her as the royalty she is. She skips past Ms. Walker and Headmaster Johnson at the end of the hall. His face is red, sweat glistening on his brow. She has her hands on her hips, her head tilted at a severe angle, full of attitude. They are standing with Mom, who looks less than impressed at being cornered in the hallway full of students. I rarely see her during school hours, even though she works here.
Kayla doesn’t notice, but I do, and I worry that they’re talking about me. Ms. Walker being scolded for how I behaved in her class. Mom being called and informed of my transgression. My old friend guilt reaches its gnarled fingers towards me, and I fight to bat it away.
As if on cue, they all turn to me. I slam my locker shut and take off down the hall, letting the crowd swallow me whole.
“Hey Hannah, wait up!” I call after her as she makes her way through the students. She stops, a soft smile on her lips. “What do you think of this party? Are you going to go?”
“I’m not sure it matters what I think of it. Kayla wants to go, so I’ll be there. You should come too; it might be fun.” She says the words, but I’m not sure she believes them.
“I mean, I’ll think about it. But I’ll have to ask my mom and you know what she’s like…” I trail off when Hannah visibly bristles. She’s spent a few afternoons at my house, but ever since my mother started working here, Hannah’s been a little hesitant to come over. I never press her on it, but there’s clearly more to this than Hannah lets on. Whether it’s my mom specifically that makes her uncomfortable or mother figures in general.
“This is me,” she says, stopping outside of her classroom. “Think about the party though, okay? I think it will be good for you.”
“I will, definitely,” I nod, breaking away from her, but she calls me back.
“Wait… I know it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but I think you should read this.” Hannah shoves her copy of Never Let Me Go into my hands. “I think you would like it,” she says again.
“Okay, I promise I will. If it means that much to you.” I take the book and shove it into my messenger bag.
Hannah offers me a weird smile that doesn’t reach her eyes before dipping into her classroom.