Chapter 3

3

After moving into a temporary room, things stayed quiet for a few days.

The temporary dorm was in an old building, a former storage room on the sixth floor. It had a rusty iron bed, a wobbly desk, and a lightbulb that flickered. I stayed there for three days, and the only person I saw was the janitor who left a jug of water at my door.

The next day in class, there was one empty seat. Nobody asked where I went.

In Calculus, the professor called my name. "Elara Sterling." I answered. Someone in the back whispered, "Oh, she's still here?" The professor ignored them and kept going.

After class, I hid in the library until it closed. When I returned to my room, the hallway light was dead. I used my phone's flashlight to find the way. The springs of the iron bed dug into my back.

I didn't sleep. I sat on the edge of the bed and scrolled through my photos. I found one from the end of last semester―my dad picking me up at the gate.

It was raining that day, and he stood by the security booth with a black umbrella. I hadn't let anyone see him.

In the car, he had asked, "How is it going? Can you handle it?" I told him I could. He glanced at me, started the engine, and didn't ask again.

I opened my textbook. The note from my dad was still there. The creases were deeper now, and the ink was slightly blurred from the milk. I smoothed it out and tucked it under my pillow.

After the lights went out, I heard girls chatting in the hallway a few doors down. I could catch bits of it: "Chloe said... that bag of hers..." followed by a burst of laughter.

I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. My phone screen lit up.

A text from my dad.

"Dress warm the day after tomorrow. The stage gets chilly with the AC."

I stared at the words for a long time. Then I replied with one word.

"Okay."