I just had to say goodbye to Neal and Julian.

I think potentially I’m in shock?

It is September first. The rest of the student body will be here in like an hour, and I’m sitting on the dock typing on my phone. The ferry is too far now to see the Hawthornes waving.

I’m not ready for this.

I don’t think any of us are, really. I mean, maybe Julian, but only because when if he’s anything short of perfectly well adjusted he’s susceptible to transformative emotional outbursts hahahaha.

I kept catching them watching me over the last couple days. While I’m chewing, or trying to zip up my coat one handed, or searching under my bed for my phone.

“I’m not good at losing people,” Neal observed cheerfully over dinner last night, as though we’d been having this conversation.

“We’re not losing her,” Julian assured him without looking up from his boiled potatoes. “She’s just going off to college.”

“I feel like I’m dropping off my first kindergartener,” Neal grumbled. And then, with a glance around at the muted, aging grandeur of the cathedral, he acknowledged, “Fancy kindergarten.”

“I don’t have to stay here,” I said.

I’ve been reminding them that I don’t have to go to Palefish four times a day all summer, but we all know I’m mostly joking. My method for coping with the abject terror at being left here alone without them is to bring it up ceaselessly, to slap us all in the face with my terror until none of us can take it seriously. Merciless exposure therapy.

But the thing is, last night while I was packing everything up — I’ll be in a new dorm room tonight with the rest of the freshmen, not in guest housing — Neal leaned against my doorframe and said, very seriously, “You really don’t have to stay.”

I looked up and was devastated to realize that he meant it.

“We can just go back to the woods,” I said. “The three of us.” And never lose anyone again. I didn’t say that part out loud but I didn’t need to. Neal and I drove in the rabbit for a full week with Julian’s lifeless body in the backseat. We understand each other.

“World might end without you,” I pointed out.

He grinned and shrugged. “Fuck ‘em.”

And now it’s the next morning and I’m watching the ferry pull farther and farther away. They really left, and I really stayed and for the first time in years, I’m alone.

Ooof. I need to not look too hard at that rn. Ouch.

Sorry for the abrupt sign off earlier, I was interrupted.

I was was sitting on the dock, dangling my feet over the water, so focused on writing about my sadness on my phone that I didn’t even notice him come up behind me.

“Hey, you okay?”

He was wearing a button down and sunglasses, and smiling at me with his very white teeth.

I just blinked at him.

“Are you Shiloh Tamblyn?”

I nodded mutely.

“Cool, thought so,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Sorley sent me to find you.”

“Who?” I said and his tanned forehead creased.

“Sorley? Chancellor Sorley?”

Which meant nothing to me, I didn’t know what the leader of a college is called.

“Chancellor Lana Sorley, head of the university? Boss of the whole island?”

“Oh, Lana,” I said and his thick dark eyebrows raised over the rim of his Ray-Bans.

“Yeah,” he said. “Lana.” He smiled, bemused. I guess people don’t usually refer to her by her first name around here.

“She asked me to find you, I think she wants a word,” he said, ruffling his chestnut hair off his forehead. He shielded his eyes with the flat of his hand to squint across the bright water after the ferry. “Know someone on the boat?” he asked.

I didn’t answer.

“You a minnow?” he asked.

“A what?”

“Oh, sorry,” he said. “A freshman.”

I told him yeah, I am.

“I’ve never seen a minnow come to term early,” he said. “Usually they’re pretty strict about tradition around here.”

He was trying to get me to tell him about myself, and I didn’t oblige, I just scowled up at him, squinting against the sun even behind my sunglasses.

Finally, he shrugged. “Well,” he said, and offered me a hand. After a moment of hesitation, I took it and let him haul me to my feet.

He introduced himself as we trudged up the hill. Well, I trudged. He climbed with the long-legged grace of an antelope, in his fuckin boat shoes and little pastel colored shorts.

“I’m Robert,” he said. “Council major.”

I had no idea what that meant at the time. It sounds like a title doesn’t it? Actually it sounds like two titles stuck together.

“Well I was,” he went on. He was very casually friendly. “Graduated last spring. Do you know what you’ll study?”

LOL I literally didn’t even know the options yet, but I was spared saying so by young woman in pleated shorts calling down at us over the wind.

“Bird! Is that her?”

Robert called back, “Yeah I found her!” and she deflated dramatically, and turned round to cup her hands over her mouth and shout up the hill to a small gang of windswept companions:

“Bird found her!”

“Finally,” one of the boys called back.

Robert looked back and smiled at me. “Don’t mind them,” he said. “We’ve been on a bit of a goose chase, that’s all.”

He talks like an old person. Not his words maybe, but his tone. His round vowels. I don’t know how to describe it.

“Sorley’s waiting for you in her office,” pleated shorts said, and then after a brief pause: “Do you know where that is?”

I shook my head.

“That’s alright,” said a second girl, coming down the hill to meet us. “This place is like a maze when you first get here. We’ll show you, don’t worry.”

There are five of them. Katharine, brunette, pretty, somewhat waspish; Rebecca, soft spoken, elegant, maybe shy; Oscar, the red-head in tiny round sunglasses who has been nothing but aloof so far; Theodore, who’s a golden retriever as far as I can tell; and of course Robert, in his rolled shorts that showed off his long, tan, legs, jacket slung over his shoulder as we climbed the hill towards the school. He introduced himself as Robert, but the others all call him Bird. Not Bert, Bird.

“I’ve never seen a freshman here so early,” Theodore said as we all climbed the hill. “Did you do something really gruesome?”

“Did Sorley lose a bet?” Katharine asked, dryly.

HA. No, Lana didn’t lose a bet. I just raise the dead lmfao.

I must have looked a little dazed because Robert waved them off like a flock of birds. “Leave her alone,” he said, which Oscar immediately ignored.

“Who’s your family?”

Which like — lol, uhh? You don’t know them? Hahahaha ????

Robert skipped forward and kicked the bottom of Oscar’s shoe, tripping him up a little. “Sorry about them,” Robert said to me. “We’ve just been here all summer. Going a bit stir crazy, that’s all.”

And then I said, “what are you doing here, summer school?” which is such a stupid question, this isn’t high school, we don’t do summer school we do… summer quarter or whatever. So embarrassing.

But Robert just smirked. “Something like that.”

I don’t think I could get back to Lana’s office at this point. Palefish is truly a maze of old buildings, and little doors, and long, creaky corridors. All I know for sure is that it’s up a lot of stairs.

We came to a halt at a very old door with medieval-looking hinges and a brass ring knocker, which Robert rapped three times. I noticed that welded a third of the way around the ring there was a little fish, as if we were watching it from above.

“Come in!” Lana called from beyond the door and Robert opened it with a satisfying thunk of latch.

Robert held the door open to reveal a large study. At the center, a very old, ornate wooden desk; on the walls, portraits of old white men sitting in front of windows crowded between the tall bookshelves. In the high-backed, dark leather arm chair behind the desk, sat Lana, bent over an open file of paperwork. Lana, with her carefully maintained blond highlights, her swipe of pink lip gloss, her soft, lavender sweater.

It was like she’d been clipped out of one magazine and glued into another. Office and occupant were so hilariously out of sync I had to fight down the threat of somewhat hysterical laughter.

She looked up and smiled.

“Oh, good, you found her. Thank you Mr Pennington.” And then when he didn’t immediately retreat into the hallway, Lana pricked one perfect eyebrow, and Robert, smiling his white, straight-toothed smile, backed out of the room and closed the door.

Lana deflated.

“Shiloh,” she said, smiling a warm, relaxed smile. Like we’re old friends. “Come sit down.”

Lana and I are not old friends.

Last time I saw her, I admit, it was very good to see her, because last time I saw her she was storming into Billy Ace’s space, calling them children, and taking away their snake eggs, and that was really therapeutic to me at that moment in my life.

But Lana will always be the one who sent Cara Thistle through a rift, and that is unforgivable.

I went and sat across from her as I was told — since I don’t have much of a choice really — but I didn’t smile back.

“How was your summer?” she asked.

“Fine,” I said, straight faced.

She exhaled her cheerful demeanor, leaned forward onto her elbows for a moment to press her hands into her eyes. “You’re angry,” she said. “I understand.” And then with a flourish she scooped up all her papers, tapped them on their edges twice to straighten them and stowed them away in a file.

“I don’t like to single out students,” she said briskly. “Many of our attendees have unique relationships to magic, so in that regard, you’re absolutely normal here. However, given your particular ability, I thought we should speak before the rest of the students arrive.”

She straightened her files and finally folded her hands on the desk. She fixed me with a look.

“Every student at Palefish eventually chooses a faculty member to be their personal adviser, someone to ensure that the students needs are being met, and they’re getting the knowledge they need. Most of your classmates won’t be choosing faculty for at least a few months, some not until next year, but I’d like to mentor you personally, is that alright with you?”

Something in my stomach squeezed furiously.

“I know that you blame me for what happened to Cara —” Lana began, to which I said,

“Yeah because it was your fault.”

“ — but given your unique powers, and the required secrecy, it makes sense for me to work with you personally.”

I scowled at her and said nothing. Not that I had any real intention of tracking down a different mentor or anything. Literally I just didn’t want to say yes to her.

The awkward quiet stretched and stretched before Lana finally asked, totally unbothered, “Do you have any idea what you’d like to study?”

I hesitated because to be honest, I haven’t really given it much thought. Like… I was sent here. I’m not here because I want to learn.

Lana seemed to read this on my face because she waved. “That’s alright, you don’t need to know anything yet. You will of course be given the same opportunities as every other student, and absolute freedom to take your own academic path. However.” She paused for emphasis. “If and when you decide to look further into your particular ability, I do ask that you consult a teacher for guidance.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Before you begin any experimentation,” Lana added and I sorta turned red at that point because experimentation in the case of my particular power could mean a number of things. “The nature of life and death are among the most dangerous and mysterious forces in our known world. We know very little about them, and have very few opportunities to properly study them. For your own safety, and the safety of everyone in this institution, I need your word that before you begin any practical pursuits, you will accept a mentor. I’d prefer it was me, but if you’d prefer not to work with me, I only ask that you choose someone. Can you promise me that?”

I nodded and Lana looked closer at me for a long moment before saying, somewhat cautiously, “I agreed to accept you into this school because we can offer you shelter, education, and exploration. Not because it is safe here. Do you understand that?”

I nodded again, but Lana still didn’t seem particularly convinced.

“Shiloh —” she began, so finally I just told her the truth:

“I’m not gonna study my power,” I said, and Lana blinked, totally blindsided. The quiet was so uncomfortable that I added, “I just want to get through this so I can go back to hunting with the Hawthornes.”

I’ve done a lot of thinking this summer, and I’ve come to a number of conclusions. The most important of which is this: the power I have is none of my goddamned business.

Remember when Madelyn told me to drink from the stream? She said I wouldn’t like what it did, but I’d be grateful for it someday.

And she was right. I am grateful that I was able to bring Julian home. But everything that came along with it? Bitch NO that shit was traumatizing!!!!

And how exactly am I supposed to study with this fucking ability, hm? How tf am I supposed to study my power without data and experimentation? Like I’m down for a slutty college experience, I am. But not because I’m trying to learn how to raise the dead, fuck that.

Lana didn’t stay surprised for very long.

“Oh,” she said. “Very well.” She smiled. “In that case, I only ask that you not tell people your particular abilities until you’ve left the island. Does that seem fair to you?”

It was my turn to be blind-sided. I’d expected her to fight me in some way.

I nodded.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll check in again soon, of course, make sure you’re settling in and finding your way. Is there anything you’d like to bring to me?”

I shook my head.

“Let me know if anything comes up,” she said and opened her file again. “I believe the other students will be arriving soon, it’s about time you headed to the cathedral for the feast. Mr Pennington will be happy to escort you, I’m sure. Mr Pennington!”

And Robert, Bird, whatever his name is, opened the door at once.

“Show Shiloh down to the feast won’t you? I’ll be right behind you.”

He nodded solemnly, holding the door open, and I realized I was dismissed. I sat there, feeling a little bit empty — not that I wanted to fight about my path here, I just expected to have to — and followed Robert back down the corridor.

“What was that about?” he asked once we’d hit the stone staircase.

Obviously, I couldn’t really tell him.

“She wants to be my mentor or something,” I mumbled and he spun to get a better look at me.

“Really? Sorley herself?”

I shrugged. “Yeah?”

He squinted at me, cocking his head, maybe a bit birdlike. “What did you say you were doing here again?”

I probably should have come up with some kind of slick lie, but I didn’t. I said, “I used to hunt, that’s all.”

He didn’t buy it, I could tell from the way he side-eyed me.

“Alright,” he said.

His friends were waiting for us in the square. Katharine was laying on her back on the lip of the fountain, one ankle propped on the other knee, reading a very old book with her head in Theodore’s lap. The other four were arguing.

“There you are!” Rebecca called, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. “I thought you were going to miss our last moment of quiet with the fountain.”

“Before the rabble gets back,” the ginger, Oscar, sighed.

“Oh don’t call them that, not in front of company,” Katharine said, turning the page of her book. She was tapping her ankle in the air, and her loose pleated shorts had inched far enough up her thigh that I could see her white underwear. “What will she think of us?”

But I thought probably Katharine doesn’t care what I thought of her at all.

“We asked Lily about you,” Theodore, the blond, said, somewhat mischievously. “She was very secretive.” His eyes were glittering and his questions were implied.

There was a beat of quiet which I resisted the urge to fill, before Rebecca said, “Leave her alone, Teddy.”

“Yes, leave her alone, Teddy,” Robert echoed. “Sorley’s commanded I bring her to the cathedral. Ferry’s nearly here.”

And after that, everything became something of a whirlwind.

Lana told Robert to bring me to the cathedral to meet with the rest of the students, but Katharine protested.

“Meet them in the hall? Goodness no, you have to climb the hill with your class, it’s tradition!”

So Robert said, “Alright, come on then.”

And Katharine scoffed. “I’ve graduated,” she said. “I’m not going down the hill just to come back up the hill.” She grinned at me. “Off you go.”

Obviously I hesitated because I also didn’t want to walk down the hill and then turn around immediately and walk back up the hill, so they essentially pushed me down the cathedral steps hahaha, a ten handed creature, all talking over each other. When I looked back up at them, they were all laughing and cheering and waving at me. So down the stupid hill I went.

I made it to the boathouse just as they students were disembarking from the ferry.

I don’t know how many people I was expecting. I mean, I knew it was a university, which presumably means that it would have a significant student body. And like, I have seen this place, and it’s small but it’s not like… that small, I for sure get lost here with all the lab buildings and classrooms and auditoriums and stuff.

But there just aren’t that many hunters, you know?

So when like a whole crowd people got off that little boat I was sorta dazed, like… the fuck are all these people? Where did they come from?

I don’t know, but I recognized one of them. He actually spotted me before I spotted him and called, “SHILOH!” over the crowd, and there, coming down the ramp in tevas and cargo shorts with big clunky headphones around his neck, was Bass.

The relief that went through me hahahaha.

Did I leap enthusiastically into his arms? Yes, of course I did. Did I then immediately realize that Rook was standing right next to him? Yep, yes, uh huh.

I think I said, “Oh.”

And he sorta awkwardly nodded and said, “Hey.”

And then Bass rescued us, bless him. “When we didn’t see you on the ferry I thought you’d abandoned us! How was your summer?”

And just like that I retreated back to our little cabin in the woods and said, “we started a garden,” which Bass was surprisingly enthusiastic about, and talking about peas and tomatoes carried us as far up the hill as we could go before we were breathless ha.

Once we hit the Cathedral, Rook and Bass and everyone else gazed wonderingly up at the stone arches and pillars, the gargoyles, the intricate tiling, the simple stained glass of the narthex. The ceilings were too shadowed for us to see much of what is up there, but as everyone else squinted up into the dark as Lily appeared between the pillars that lead into the nave.

She closed her eyes, and her hair fluttered, and all the candles sputtered suddenly alight. One of the freshman screamed. Lily grinned.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, but I could tell by her sparkling expression that she was enjoying herself and not sorry at all. “Welcome everyone! As always, we’re starting our new term out with a feast. New students, I ask that you sit at the far left table. The rest of you hopefully you didn’t forget your majors over the summer.” She raised her arms and students — mostly upperclassmen, we were all too shy at first — streamed by her into the nave to sit along one of the long tables.

The tables set across the front of the transept had been loaded with food — fish, potatoes, grilled vegetables, massive bowls of fresh salad, cherries and Italian plums.

The long table at the head of the hall (it’s called the chancel, and yes I have a picture of the layout of a cathedral open on my phone lol I don’t just know these words off the top of my head) had already filled with professors, who’s expressions ran the gambit — from one woman, tall, fat, brightly dressed, who was beaming and waving at a few upperclassmen, to a grizzled-looking old dude with one leg who scowled out at us all like we’d woken him from a really nice nap.

Right at the center of the long table, was Lana, expression unreadable.

“Come on,” Bass said, nudging me forward towards the far left table. We climbed over the old wooden bench, first me, then Bass, then Rook. On my left a tall, gangly kid with a mop of copper hair who’s name I’d later learn was Ichabod wouldn’t stop tapping on the table.

When Lana finally stood, the roar of noise in the hall got quiet.

“Hello,” she said, voice filling the whole hall. “Little minnows — welcome. The rest of you — welcome back. I’m sure we’re all looking forward to resuming your studies.”

She paused for a long moment, looking out at the lot of us before going on, “for some of you, this year will be the beginning of a life-long quest. For others, this education is a means to an end, a step on a path to greater achievements.”

She paused again, seemed to look out above the crowd, through the stained glass windows, and then spoke slowly: “And for some of you, undeniably, this year will your last.”

The hall was silent.

“I don’t want any of you going forward with the wool over your eyes. The work we do here, the studies we pursue… we tread a dangerous path on this island.”

We all held our breaths.

“For that reason, I remind you: the ferry will run every day this week. If you are experiencing doubts about the pursuit of this education, I invite you to board it.”

Most of us — especially those of us at the minnow table — received this message with what I would say is the appropriate horror, but at the other end of the room a cheer went up. Robert and his friends had all leapt to their feet and to clap and holler. Katharine brandished her goblet, wine sloshing down her hand. Other upperclassmen laughed, a few joined in the cheering.

Lana flickered a smile in their direction as she gestured to calm us all down.

“I have only a few other reminders!” she said over the noise. “Minnows! Your bags are being brought up to your rooms as we speak. The next few weeks will mostly be about orienting yourselves to this new environment — don’t worry about scheduling. You will hear from us with instructions.”

There was a rustle of amusement from the rest of the school as she gave us this shpiel so I can only imagine what that fucking means for tomorrow morning. Lmfao.

“The rest of you,” Lana went on, “You’ll all be meeting with your advisors shortly to check in about your courses. Those of you who have not selected a track — consider this an official application of pressure.”

There was a general groan from most of the room at this, which Lana raised her voice slightly to speak over.

“Next, I am pleased to inform you that we’ll be reinstating an old policy here at Palefish, which will be enforced throughout our student body.” She paused a moment and I thought she might be bracing herself.

“Starting tomorrow, you will all be provided with uniforms —” she had to raise her voice slightly over the rustle of surprise — outrage? — that spread through the room. “ — Which you will be expected to wear to all of your classes and meals.”

“All meals?” someone across the room cried. “Even weekends?”

Lana ignored them. “The use of uniforms here at Palefish was a long established tradition, which I initially did away with in an effort to bring this place into this century,” she went on. “But I’ve come to understand that this tradition unifies our student body, not only to each other but to generations past. I assure you that I have enthusiastic approval from the board of councilors on this matter and any serious inquiries will be passed forward to them.”

And then, as the upperclassmen continued to voice their opinions, Lana smoothly moved right along:

“As always, this is your reminder that if you must explore the orchard, you’re to stick to the grove. Open orchard is dangerous and I cannot guarantee your safety out there.”

She paused, and surveyed us one more time. Then she said, “Finally, I feel it is my duty to remind you: we are living in unprecedented times. The world is getting stranger and stranger. The skills we are learning and the connections we’re forming — they could mean the difference between life and death in the years to come.”

I swear, I swear she found my eyes in the crowd as she said it.

“Remember that our students come from a variety of backgrounds and experiences,” she went on. “I implore you to meet each other with kindness.” And then, with a big grin, “Now, enough out of me. Come on up everyone, let’s eat.”

Teachers got up to serve themselves first, then grad students, then seniors and on down the line. We were last.

“So, who’s excited to explore the orchard?” Bass said the moment the room was loud again and I laughed.

“That is a very bad idea,” said the person across the table from us, a mousy brunette with wide brown eyes, and vivid brown freckles across their pale skin. “People have been known to disappear in the orchard. Not even Lily knows what’s in there.”

Bass shrugged, “I bet these two have seen weirder.”

Which… thank you Bass. The people directly around us all leaned to get a better look.

But the first to speak was the very pretty girl sitting across from Rook. I think her name’s Marina but it’s not like she introduced herself.

“That right,” she drawled, flicking her dark eyes first over Rook, then over me. She didn’t seem particularly impressed by anything she found there.

Rook shrugged. “I’m in no hurry to go track down any danger,” he said, totally cool. God everything that boy does is so fucking cool.

I am the biggest idiot on earth, just the biggest idiot in the world.

“What exactly it is that you’ve seen that was so weird?” said the kid, Ichabod.

“Rook’s been riding along with Knock and Daryl for a long time,” Bass said. “What like two years?”

Rook shrugged one shoulder and didn’t look at anyone, which I knew to mean that he was uncomfortable with how much was being revealed about him, but which looked like casually not caring what we said about.

“Really?” Ichabod said eagerly. “Knock and Daryl? Weren’t they at Fog Town?”

When he said that, Rook and I finally looked at each other, frozen, my fork half way between my plate and my open mouth. I remembered his hand in mine, the smell of acetone, the soft pink nail polish.

“Ichabod loves hunters,” pretty girl Marina sneered, saving us from saying anything. “He’d collect trading cards if they existed.”

Ichabod blushed. Several people laughed, and I could feel my hackles fucking rising.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Rook said, tone deceptively calm. “And as hunters die you can just burn the card, right?”

Which was the point that I realized we all might fight hahaha.

“Burn them? No that’s when you sell,” Marina replied smiling at him up through her eyelashes. “Nothing like dying to make a person valuable.”

Which is a fucked up thing to say okay Rook and I have people out there risking their lives every day like they literally might die. But besides that… look, this girl doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything about me, she doesn’t know that I’ve died, or that if my ass had stayed dead like I was supposed to I wouldn’t be… whatever I am. It’s all a secret.

But still, a horrible little shiver wound up my spine.

We spent the whole rest of the feast like that. Equal parts needling and trying to impress each other. It was weird and uncomfortable and I felt myself wanting to go back to bed like almost immediately after I got my food. It was super good, but I literally couldn’t get through much of it. Too stressful.

At the end of the meal Lily got to her feet. “New students, you’ll find your baggage in your rooms, you’ll find your rooms in Minnow House, and you’ll find Minnow House by following — ” she gestured and a couple upperclassmen got up from their tables and waved at us. Neither of them looked particularly pleased to be our point of contact, but either way it wasn’t like we had much of a choice.

“Off to bed,” Lily said. “You have an early morning tomorrow.”

“And don’t forget,” Lana added, not getting up from her high-backed chair. “We will not go easy on you here. Get your sleep.” She paused a moment before saying, as if as an after-thought, “Oh and I almost forgot! Don’t –” she paused, looking around. “Say it with me everyone! Don’t…”

The whole hall joined her in saying… something that I did not understand with everyone saying it at once.

And on that ominous note all of us minnows got up from our long table and followed the upperclassmen out of the cathedral and out into the night. Behind us, someone, maybe Katharine, called, “Sleep tight!” And there was a wash of cackling.

It had gotten dark since we were in cathedral eating. There was smoke rising from the boat house down the hill by the docks. I could hear the ocean crashing against the beach, an ever present roar. In the distance, the dark, twisted shapes of the orchard crowded against the sky.

“Come along,” said one of the upperclassmen. “Minnow house is this way.”

So we followed them, all hundred or so of us, trailing after them as they lead us across the courtyard, past the fountain, under a stone arch that darkened the sky for a moment as we passed under it.

Outside of the cathedral it was so dark and cold it really struck me for the first time since i’ve been here:

We’re alone out here. Just us and one single ferryboat. If something happened out here, no one would ever find us.

Minnow house had a single light on over the door, an old Edison light bulb trapped in a little copper grate. Moths banged against it somewhat desperately.

“This is minnow house,” said one of our guides, a boy who’s name turned out to be Charles. “This is where you’ll all spend your time until you’ve chosen your majors and moved into the appropriate houses. You’ll find your names on your doors. Good night.”

And he stood aside and left the doors open.

It was dark beyond them, a dark yawning doorway. Marina was the first to go through.

It felt like going back in time at least a century inside.

There was a light in the foyer, a flickering, displeased addition to the old building. It was up to us to find the light switches.

Someone must have put in a word for Bass and Rook because they were roomed together at the top of the house, and then right down the hall I found a slightly short door with a rounded top on the very top floor with my name tacked on, somewhat unevenly in little brass letters. Underneath mine it said ANDIE MADDOX

When I opened it the freckled person from dinner was already inside. They startled when I came in.

“Oh,” they said. “You must be Shiloh.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“Hi,” they said. “I’m Andie.”

So I said, “Hi.”

We stood there, awkwardly. Our room itself is very small, somewhat cramped, with a steeply sloped ceiling and fresh white paint that does little to cover the unevenness of the walls underneath it. There’s one little window against the wall, two low twin beds on each side.

Two low twin beds with wool blankets and crisp, starchy white sheets. Two wardrobes set into the wall for our clothes. Two scarred little desks.

My things were set neatly at the end of my bed.

“Sorry,” Andie said suddenly, but I didn’t know what for, and by the look on their face, neither did they.

So I just said, “Me too,” and they laughed.

Then they went to brush their teeth.

Idk guys it’s been a super weird day. I can’t sleep.

Also, Andie sleeps like the dead, they’re literally SILENT. It’s like I’m in here all by myself.

I miss Neal and Julian. The service out here is fucking awful. When Neal called me before bed I could barely hear what they were saying.