CHAPTER 1
Camille stepped lightly through the darkness, her nose becoming acutely aware of the stench of mold, bleach, and defecation. The cold air swirled around her, gripping her shoulders and hugging her legs, suctioning together at the thighs like magnets to preserve some warmth. It was, however, no match for the layer of moisture embedded atop the fabric of her jeans.
Arm extended to her front, she grasped along the wall, the light from behind her briskly fading as she became enveloped entirely in the blackness. Thewedgeof fluorescent sunshinedisappearedfartoo quickly, leaving her alone with the squeaks of a slamming door at her back. She spun around to confront the absent light, searching for any sign of where it had once been, but it was fruitless. No sliver of a forlorn glow remained. Her steps grew still, more shallow, as she faced back into the expanse of darkness before her. Her heart blasted against her chest from the exertion of a run, and the unknown before her failed to instill any greater feeling of safety.
A backpack dragged and skimmed over the ground as Camille’s weight shifted from one leg to the next. Her other palm still clung to a wall in hopes of finding her way. She heard a quiet, disheartening drip in thesilence. Shewished deeply it wasn’twhat shethought it would be.The mere seconds that passed in the next moment felt exhausted and drawn out. Why couldn’t she find it? Where could it be? It must be somewhere. In that moment, an awful, grating buzz shook her eardrums just a foot or two overhead. Her heart jumped, taking her body with her. In an effort to swerve away from the unexpected clang of this impossibly loud
Finally, this triggered the sensors, and the lights came up on the small, three stall bathroom in this new, and unfamiliar high school. It was unfortunate to see so much rain on her first day, and even the foresight to pack an extra pair of sneakers in her backpack seemed thwarted by the rain's insistence on soaking her every belonging on the way there. She might have asked her mother to drop her off if she expected it to come down this hard, but by the time Camille had intended to leave, mom had already been in the car taking her younger brothers to their schools across town. They were just too attached to leave, even after the move.
Camille sighed in relief at the sudden appearance of the disgusting beige coloring of the stall walls. In a way, she was grateful for that terrifying bell. If it weren’t for the jump, she may have been sliding against the wall in search of a light switch for another few minutes, wasting precious time as she anticipated removing her dripping clothes. She dropped her backpack in the small puddle it made on the linoleum tiling and shed the heavy, cold fleece of her sweatshirt. To her pleasant surprise, it did not fully soak through her blouse.
Her fingers quickly pulled the zipper across her small, brown leather bag and opened an empty pocket where she unceremoniously shoved the rolled-up sweatshirt. Thankfully, there was not much to fill the space in her pack on day one.
“I sure hope I get a locker first thing,” she grumbled to herself. The silence after the bell had its own demeaning quality, and with no one around to avoid awkward new-kid eye contact with, she considered it safe to speak to organize her thoughts.
She pulled a pair of pointed toe flats out of her bag and tugged her ankle-height rain boots off with a strong grunt and a tug for each foot. The flats slapped onto the floor and Camille answered them by slipping her toes in a graceful point into them. Finally, she pulled a square silk scarf out of the bag and rapidly folded it in a triangle followed by a series of accordion folds to create a long, thin rectangle, which she tied into a square knot around her neck. Obviously, she had done this motion many times before.
She leaned down to stuff her boots in her bag before thinking better of it, electing to keep them in her hands to avoid muddying up her bag. A rumble of voices began outside of the door, indicating others may soon be coming. She glanced in the mirror, accepted that her teddy brown hair would simply be flat as a result of the rain, and turned to head back out into the well-lit hallway.
Brianna Rae Quinn 2 ringing, almost as if she truly believed it would cause physical harm, her back met the wall, sending her flying out into the center of the room.
As she pushed the door open, she slammed into a body.
Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” She called immediately. What an excellent start to the first day.
Trailing the hiss of pain, Camille noticed they came from the lips of a pretty, blue-eyed, blonde making her own way into the bathroom to salvage what she could of her hair, though she hated to assume.
“It’s okay,” the girl gave a forced smile. “I swear, it’s like a rite of passage here,” she started with a slight pause before adding, “Smacking someone with this door. Or maybe just getting smacked.”
“Then I guess I can say I’m officially a student here,” Camille joked in response.
“Oh! You’re new here?” Her tone changed almost immediately. The shift in energy was palpable, causing Camille to grip a little tighter onto her things. Where she came from, new was not always a good thing. All it did was make you an easy target.
“Yes, I’m Camille. Dupin.” She glanced down at her hands holding a pair of wet books and an equally soaked bag before slinging the bag over a shoulder and offering her palm for a shake.
The girl returned her shake with a light grip and limp wrist. “Charmed,” she smirked. Camille nodded at the sheer campiness of the gesture before pulling her arm back to her side. “Well, what are we standing here for? Come on, let’s get you to the office. You’ll need a schedule, and a locker for those muddy boots.” She pointed to Camille’s boots with a slight snarl of disgust.
“That’s alright, I think I’ve got , ” but she could not finish. This girl was determined to lead the conversation.
“Don’t be silly. I know my way around here. I practically run this building,” she flicked her previously limp wrist, and scooped her fingers up to indicate Camille should follow. “They don’t call me a key holder for nothing!”
Camille knew in this moment she wanted the next question to be, “What’s a key holder?” What Camille wasn’t certain about was whether or not she really wanted the answer. But as a new student, perhaps it was better to know and not burn bridges, even if it was with attention seeking drama queens. But she bit anyways.
“A key holder?”
“Ah, of course, I didn’t know if you’d heard or not. I do a lot of work in the performing arts center. As a senior, I’m often trusted to open and close up the auditorium. You know, keep the costumes and props locked up, ensure the ghost light is on…” she trailed off, tapping her heels
“Your theatre actually does that? Has a ghost light?”
“Well, of course. Every theatre has ghosts,” she replied matter-offactly.
“Mine didn’t,” Camille replied curtly.
The mysterious blonde stopped and turned with a tense but honest smile. Her eyes burned a hole into Camille’s, making her regret ever having said anything.
“Your theatre?”
Camille nodded.
“And where are you coming from again?” She crossed her arms, her eyebrows now raised in interest. The look on her face was so strained, it was obvious she was not used to showing this level of interest in others.
There was a moment of hesitation, “Um,” she started in reply, “St. Michael High?”
“Oh! Christian school. That makes sense,” she shook her head in understanding. “But that’s not around here?”
“Nope. Mom got a promotion she couldn’t resist. We moved in just a few blocks away so walking here seemed like a better option than having to drive to any of the local parochial schools.” She didn’t bring up her brothers, or the fact that switching to the public school was ultimately her idea.
“You sad to have left?”
“Eh,” Camille shrugged her shoulders. “Not really. Most of my friends were in the drama club with me, but things got really cliquey and political really quickly. If people say enough about you behind your back, it feels pretty easy to leave behind. I didn’t want to spend my senior year like that. You know what the say drama club is like a cult.” She offered a small chuckle.
It was not reciprocated.
“You don’t even know what that means.” A flicker of nastiness crossed her eyes. “You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that.” Another wayward tone shift that turned Camille on her head.
“I’m sorry, I just” she was cut off again.
“I’m Mina, by the way.” Her plastered smile returned.
Camille blinked. Did she imagine that moment of seriousness? She half expected a new voice or face to appear over her shoulder to justify this smile, but none ever came. Only the usual sea of nameless, faceless students ignoring the new kid that she anticipated.
“Mina,” she repeated.
Brianna Rae Quinn 4 of her shoes with an heir of authority as she power-walked down the hallway to the main office, mercifully within view.
“You should join the drama club here,” she jumped in again. “We’re always looking for new people. Of course, you don’t formally get to join drama club until you’ve done at least one show.” She turned on her heels again and continued that last few feet to the main office door.
“I don’t know. It’s senior year, new school…” Camille spoke aloud, though her more honest list of reasons to avoid Mina seemed to be growing aggressively every instant that passed.
“You must. Truly, we could use someone like you.”
You’ve never even seen me perform, Camille’s thoughts echoed in her head, back and forth against her ears.
“Auditions are in two weeks. No need to prepare you have the perfect look for the lead.”
“Oh?” Camille questioned, “What’s the show?”
“Some silly 80s romance. We have the best program in the area. We’ve even gotten some recognition for it. You’d be lucky to be there with us if you care about theatre and acting at all.”
She did care. It was all Camille ever felt particularly good at. Maybe, in a strange way, Mina was right, and in spite of the suspicious circumstances, it was a rather welcome invitation.
A breathy laugh escaped her throat as she wondered audibly, “I’ve never met anyone in theatre so excited for someone else to have a lead, I don’t think.”
Mina gave a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I had my turn already. This is just not my year. And when you’re right for the part, you’re right for the part.”
Even with thevoteof confidence,somethingreadsoincrediblyoff about Mina, though it was difficult to place. “I’ve never been a lead, you know. I always kind of thought it was reserved for the favorites.”
”Not here,” Mina responded, quickly. “Only the worthy.”
The word cracked like a whip. Worthy coming off her tongue felt almost languished in her bright speaking voice. Camille nodded.
“You know, maybe I will. I could use something to…” she wondered how to fill in the blank. “Get acclimated, I guess.”
”Opening night is October 21st. Mark your calendar now.” She sang, wrapping a carefully manicured hand around the handle of the main office doors. Through the glass, the main office administrative assistants stood in a sea of other students, seeking information, class schedules and lockers.
Suddenly, Camille wished she and her mother had arrived a few days earlier to attend the new student orientation.
Brianna Rae Quinn
“Honestly, Iwouldn’t even bother looking into the other clubs yet. The fall play will interfere with most other club programming, but trust me, it’s the best time.” She door swung open at Mina’s hands, and she swept her upward palm in the direction of the front desk. “Now seriously, go put those dirty boots away, and grab your audition form after. You don’t want that getting all wet.”
Another uncomfortable laugh escaped Camille’s mouth as she shuffled into the room. “Of course. Where do I get the form, again?” She inquired, knowing full well that Mina never actually mentioned.
”Mr King’s room. Number 66. Don’t worry, I’ll take you.” Mina waved off Camille’s concerns with the wind.
Of course you will.
”You’ll love him. He is such a great leader.” Mina gushed.
Camille nodded. Whoever said theatre was not a cult had clearly never met this particular follower.