She felt nervous.
No, nervous was an understatement. She was anxious. Really anxious.
Melanie had waited eagerly for this moment. The moment she would finally go to college. She had wanted this. Prayed eagerly for this. And now? The time had finally come.
Melanie leaned her head against the car window, her eyes following the blur of lights and shadows as the car sped down the road. The sky had turned a deep shade of orange, fading into purple as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon. Streetlights were flickering on, and the evening breeze made the trees sway gently. Everything felt quiet. Almost too quiet.
In the distance, she saw Crestmoor Academy. The school stood tall and proud at the far end of the road, like something out of a painting. Its old stone walls were sculpted with care, worn by time but still beautiful, now bathed in the soft glow of twilight.
This was what she had wanted. A fresh start. A new chapter.
When the car finally came to a halt, Melanie's heart skipped several beats. She looked up nervously, and met the eyes of her driver in the rearview mirror. The look in his eyes told her that they had arrived to their destination, which she knew apparently.
With a deep breath that did nothing to calm her nerves, she turned to the woman who sat next to her.
"Mom?"
But the woman didn't answer. She seemed busy with her phone call.
"Tell Mr. Thompson to give me those documents as soon as I come to the office. And where's the new models to advertise my brand?" the woman snapped, her voice sharp, laced with a thick French accent.
The voice on the other end said something which seemed to fuel the woman's anger. She flipped her gorgeous hair over her shoulder and said,
"Excuse me?! What do you mean—"
"Mom?" Melanie tapped her gently.
"—by I don't have any models to advertise my brand?! Listen carefully Mr Robert, I've invested so much money for this upcoming show—"
"Mom?"
"—and I won't just sit here and allow all my plans to go down the drain all because of some incompetent workers—"
"Mom?" she raised her voice a little as she tapped her mother a little harder this time.
That finally got the woman's attention. She turned to Melanie and smiled.
"Oh, bye sweetie. Take good care of yourself," her mother said quickly, then went back to her phone conversation.
"Bye… mom," Melanie whispered, her voice soft and unsure. She sat there for a second, waiting, hoping for something. A hug or a kiss. Or probably a squeeze on the hand. But nothing came.
Her chest tightened.
She had seen how other mothers acted, teary-eyed, hugging their daughters tightly, fussing over every little thing.
But her own mom? She couldn't even pause to say goodbye properly. Not even today.
Melanie felt silly for expecting more. But she had hoped for it. Just this once.
She was leaving home, going off to college for the first time. She didn't know what to expect. She didn't even know the rules. She had never even been away from home this long.
She was scared, nervous, and unsure of herself. More than anything, she had wanted her mom to hold her and tell her it would all be okay. To say she believed in her. That she'd miss her.
But of course, that was asking for too much.
'Why did I even expect anything different?' She thought, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
Without another word, she glanced at her mother one last time then quietly got down from the car.
Once the car had zoomed off, Melanie took in a deep breath. She clutched her suitcases in a vice-like grip, eyeing the tall black gates critically.
"Melanie, you got this," she sighed before stepping in.
The academy grounds stretched wide, paved with cobblestones that gleamed under the soft evening light. Neatly trimmed hedges bordered the walkways, and tall, ancient trees swayed gently in the wind. A large stone fountain stood at the centre, its gentle splash the only sound that seemed calm in the busy space.
Students moved in every direction, wheeling sleek suitcases and chatting excitedly as they reunited or met for the first time.
Most of them looked like they had stepped right out of fashion magazines, dressed in the latest designer outfits, from glossy boots to carefully layered jackets and luxury handbags. Laughter echoed from small groups gathered near the fountain, while others snapped selfies or filmed short videos.
Melanie pulled her suitcases close, not wanting to bump into anyone. She kept her gaze low as she walked quietly.
Stepping through the tall glass doors of Crestmoor's main building, she was stunned by how grand and expansive the hallway was.
What caught her eye were the elegant artifacts lining the walls: antique masks, gleaming swords, awesome portraits—each one more fascinating than the last.
"Wow," she whispered. "Is this a school or a museum?"
Melanie was so captivated that she didn't notice the low-lying sculpture pedestal ahead.
Her foot caught it, and before she could process what was happening, she stumbled forward with a soft yelp. Then crashed into someone.
A piercing scream exploded in her ear.
"Get off me, you fucking balloon!"
Melanie gasped and scrambled to her feet, mortified.
"I'm so sorry," she said, her wide eyes locking onto the furious glare of the girl she'd just collided with.
The girl sat on the floor, clutching a broken acrylic nail. Her blonde hair cascaded down her back in long, silky waves. Her pale skin was as flawless and smooth as snow, unblemished and luminous. Her face was painted to perfection. She looked up slowly, murder glowing in her eyes.
"You broke my nail, you bitch!" the girl shrieked. "This was a custom gel set! Limited edition, baby pink from Milan!"
Another girl rushed over in a flurry of curls and fake lashes. "Oh my gosh, Chloe, are you okay? Did it bruise your hand?" she shot a horrified look at Melanie. "What have you done? Weren't you looking where you were going? You broke her nail!"
Melanie flushed crimson. "I'm sorry. I tripped, I didn't mean—"
"Girl, what did you trip on? Your appetite?" the third girl interjected sharply, snickering.
"She said snack attack and went down like Jell-O!" the fourth girl laughed, holding her stomach. "I think I heard the floor crack!"
Chloe sniffed, still nursing her nail. "It's okay girls. Not everyone can be light on their feet. Some of us walk. Others… quake."
The girls erupted into a fit of laughter.
Melanie's ears burned. Her suitcase had toppled during the fall and lay open beside her, one of her bras embarrassingly peeking out. She bent to quickly shove the bra in and zip her suitcase, wishing it could swallow her whole instead.
Chloe stood up slowly, dusting off her designer skirt. "I could've died, you know? Do you know how heavy you are? You landed on me like a mattress falling from a fifth-floor window!"
"I-I'm really sorry. I can help you fix it. Your nail, I mean."
"Fix it?!" Chloe yelled, her eyes narrowing into slits as she crossed her arms over her chest. "How do you think you can fix this?"
"I'm an artist," Melanie spoke with a sheepish smile. "So it'll be easier for me to fix it. I'm really good at painting and drawing. Think about it, um…?"
"Chloe," she responded sharply, glaring daggers at Melanie.
"Yeah! Chloe. If I can paint a perfect sunset, I can paint a perfect nail. And trust me, mine will look better than anything your fancy salon could do."
She beamed at them with her brightest sunshine smile. The four girls just stared at her like she'd grew a second head.
The third girl guffawed. "What are you gonna do, paint her a new nail with watercolor? Sketch her dignity back?"
Students around were starting to stare, a few even giggling at the scene. Melanie could feel herself shrinking.
Chloe raised her hand. "You'd better hope that my nail salon can resuscitate this. If I get fungus, I'm suing. Emotional damage," she spoke sassily.
"Look, we don't know where you rolled in from, but next time, try watching where your planet-sized feet are going," the second girl sneered.
"Yeah, exactly. Just stay out of our way," said the fourth girl, flipping her hair. "Next time you trip over your own shadow, don't drag us down with you."
The girls laughed, strutting away in perfect formation.
As their laughter echoed down the hallway, Melanie stood rooted to the spot, heart hammering and breath shaking.
Her hands clenched at her sides, tears threatening behind her eyes, but she blinked fast. She wouldn't cry. Not in front of them.
And definitely not over a broken nail and a broken ego.
Eyes were on Melanie as she reached for her suitcases. Some were whispering, others were giggling.
Her cheeks grew red. She ducked her head low, feeling embarrassed. For the first time, she regretted her decision to ever come to Crestmoor.
What a horrible start, she thought miserably.
Melanie walked down the hallway, slower this time, her eyes darting around like she was expecting another disaster to leap out at her. She couldn't shake off the encounter she'd had with those girls. It kept playing over and over in her head like a bad movie she couldn't pause, and with every replay, her jaw clenched tighter.
Who even were those girls?! Who did they think they were, queens of the hallway?
Her fingers wrapped tighter around her suitcase handle as their voice echoed in her mind, sharp and mocking.
"Not everyone can be light on their feet. Some of us walk. Others… quake."
"Girl, what did you trip on? Your appetite?"
"Look, we don't know where you rolled in from, but next time, try watching where your planet-sized feet are going."
At every line, heat rose to her face—not from embarrassment, but pure anger.
Were they calling me fat? Do they even know what fat means?! I'm not fat! I'm… sturdy. Solid. Built for survival in a zombie apocalypse!
She scowled at the memory. Those girls were awful, mean, and shallow. And Chloe, the nail drama queen, had acted like losing a single nail was a national tragedy.
"Fuck those bitches," Melanie swore under her breath.
She climbed the stairs, each step making her suitcases thump, until she stopped in front of a tall brown door with Admin Office etched in neat silver letters. Her pulse quickened.
She reached for the doorknob, then pulled her hand back. Her chest felt tight. She hated this feeling. She hated how her brain kept circling back to those girls' laughter, like it was stitched into her ears.
She shook her head, took another deep breath, and reached again… only to pull back once more.
Ugh. Why am I like this?!
"Done meditating?" a voice cut in, deep and sharp.
Melanie jumped so hard she nearly lost her grip on her suitcases. Spinning around, she opened her mouth to say something, but she was rendered speechless by the sight in front of her.
Oh. My. Gosh.