❝sometimes things fall apart so that better things can happen.❞
ｍａｒｉｌｙｎ ｍｏｎｒｏｅ
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ＴＨＥＹ came on a Friday.
Three heavily built men in dark suits and tinted shades, filing out of two sleek black cars. Morgana must have sent them to pick me up, but even with a 36 hour notice and the majority of my possessions already on their way to the school, I wasn't prepared to leave my relatives just yet.
"Uncle Ted?" I tilt my head to the side and beckon my uncle over to my position propped at the window. He peers out the window over my shoulder, casting a grim glance at the sight in front of us.
"I'll get Vic to talk to her," he tells me reassuringly before disappearing through the doorway once more.
After what seemed like a very length, very argumentative phone call, we were able to convince Morgana to let my Uncle and Aunt drive me. The only condition being we remained sandwiched between the two cars sent to accompany me. It wasn't ideal, but the dark suit men were spending as much time being inconspicuous as driving, so to an extent, we could almost ignore their presence.
"How do you feel?" Aunt Victoria asks me curiously.
I take a moment to consider her question. "Honestly?" I reply, "Like I'm starting high school for the first time."
It was that same feeling of dread and anticipation. The longing to finally find a place to fit in and the hope to crawl into a hole where nothing ever changed, all at the same time. It was that feeling that made everything you've learnt so far irrelevant, but you stick to it anyway because it was all you knew.
That, was how it felt on the long drive to wherever Morgana's black cars led to. I don't tell my aunt this, but she seemed to understand by the look on her face.
"That's a positive way to think about it," Uncle Ted mumbles.
"How do you two see it?" I ask back, with as much curiosity to hear the answer.
"Like we're sending you away," Aunt Vic admits.
"You are sending me away," I remind her.
'No, not like that," she's quick to correct. "It's more like–, Ted, dear, you explain."
"It's more like we're sending you to a prison for a crime you didn't commit," he confesses for the two of them.
I respond with silence at first. I didn't know how to reply to that one. Two lefts, one right and straight ahead. The car kept moving forward even though the conversation wasn't.
"I think some of the things I've done should count as a crime," I finally reply sombrely.
"Emma, never blame yourself for that," Aunt Vic orders me, her voice strong and ringing with sincerity. "You weren't in control of it, you didn't know what you were doing."
"I still don't," I sigh. She didn't know how to respond to that one.
"Maybe..." Uncle Ted speaks up after a pregnant pause where we all where we all relapsed into silence, "We should all think of it differently," he suggests. "Instead of making this place seem like the end of everything good, lets make it the beginning of everything that could get better."
"Like a new beginning," Aunt Victoria agrees.
A new beginning. I liked that, and I tell them as such. They respond with content smiles, as if relieved that for once, they had finally done something right.
❧
I didn't realise I had fallen asleep until I was woken up.
"We're here?" I ask my aunt, just as she retracts her hand from my shoulder which she had been lightly nudging for the past minute.
Aunt Victoria nods. "Ted's just getting your stuff out the trunk."
I follow her out the car and look up to stare at the building.
It was an airport.
Of course. Morgana wouldn't exactly have had her school in a location an hour or so drive's away from my home. After all her talk about how essential it was for me to keep this a secret, just as much as keeping my real name a secret, it would've been pitiful if that had been the case.
Yet, in its own way, being in an airport felt just as mundane. Uncle Ted passes me the hand of my two-wheeled hand luggage while I continue to observe everyday citizens and tourists move past us in busy jangles and with boisterous steps, despite the fact it was only eight in the morning.
My relatives and I begin to head in the same direction as them when we are called back.
"Miss Sparke?" one of the dark suited men calls. "It's this way."
I follow the direction his hand is pointing towards till I end up staring at an empty hall.
"Oh, okay," I reply surprised. We turn around and begin to walk to behind the men.
"Sorry, ma'am," another one of the men say, stepping in front of my aunt and uncle. "Not you two. Just Miss Sparke can go on from here."
A distressed look appears on uncle Ted's face, while Aunt Vic's forehead creases with worry.
"Are you sure we can't at least accompany her for a bit longer?" she asks in a pleading tone.
"We're all she has," Uncle Ted chimes in.
"Again, we're sorry but we can't do that. There are safety checks we have to maintain," the first man replies stoically.
"You can say your final goodbyes to Miss Sparke now, but we can't take you further," the last man, who I hadn't realised was actually a woman tells us, with a more apologetic voice.
Uncle Ted and Aunt Victoria look at each other. Then at me. I cautiously approach them to wrap them in a final hug.
"I'll be okay," I assure them.
"We know," my uncle sighs. "But we'll worry anyway."
"I know," I say with a small smile. After another moment, we pull away. "Tell Andrew I said bye, okay?"
"We will. Though, it's a shame he couldn't make it," Aunt Vic comments, a frown still weighing down her lips.
"He said his dad wanted him to go somewhere with him," I shrug. "Though, I think this is easier without him here. At least we don't have to start explaining them," I nudge my head in the direction of our accompaniment, "to him."
"True," Aunt Victoria agrees.
Uncle Ted sighs. "You promise to call as soon as you possibly can."
"Promise."
And then they were gone.
I must having been standing there for a while after they'd left, because one of the escorts had to tap my shoulder twice to get my attention.
"Ms Sparke, this way."
I nod absentmindedly and follow behind.
We walk for a while before we reached a small, private jet that I am told would be taking me to Morgana's school. It had admittedly been a while since I had travelled, but having busy parents had ingrained flying frequently as a normality. I could still remember the last time the 3 of us went on a plane together- almost like it was only yesterday. If only it were.
The layout of the private jet was simple enough. You couldn't see much from the entrance but I had to estimate it couldn't possibly fit more than 10 passengers, not counting the plane crew. It looked modern- in a carefree expensive sort of way, and for the first time, it got me wondering who funded this organisation of Morgana's, and more importantly, why.
I turn around to see there's only one of the escorts left. It was the woman. She tells me to sit wherever I want and that we would be taking off soon. She doesn't give me much of a chance to ask anything in return.
My face twists in disappointment as I watch her turn briskly then walk away. So much for her being the nice one. They all retained the same attitude, everyone I'd ever met since I was 6 had. The one that gave away the fact they knew something you didn't and they weren't allowed to tell you.
I eventually pull myself away from my thoughts long enough to walk into the main body of the plane.
There were only two rows, made up of only 4 pairs of seats. There was a fair gap between each pair of seats, but it was small like I'd suspected. I move a short way down the aisle and settle down somewhere along the middle row. To my surprise, I find someone else already seated on the plane, directly opposite to the seat I had chosen. I hadn't noticed him at first because he had his seat lowered down as far as it could go and a commercial blanket draped over one of his shoulders.
The boy looked about my age, and I estimated if he was stood up, he'd probably be quite tall. Possibly about Andrew's heights of 6 feet. From what I could tell, his hair was a dark, floppy brown but it was covered by a navy beanie and a set of large rounded headphones to block out the noise. His lack of response to my arrival also prompted me to guess he was probably asleep. I wonder how long he's been on the plane.
A few moments later, I reluctantly drag my head in the opposite direction when I realise how awkward it would be to be caught staring.
The view out the window wasn't grand. It only reminded that even in an airport with mounds of people traveling with an intent of a tropical destination, we were still in the bland, old, middle of nowhere. Instead, I opt on reading a book, which I was grateful I'd packed in my backpack rather than with the rest of my luggage.
Four chapters and half the journey later, the boy finally stirs awake. He makes a groaning noise as he clears out his throat. He attempts to do a wide full body stretch but is pulled back into his seat almost immediately by the seatbelt fastened loosely around his midriff.
Considering neither the take off, nor the flight attendant pulling his seat to an upright position could wake him up, this takes me by surprise.
"Are we finally in the air again?" He asks in between a yawn and a roll of his neck.
I look around stupidly to realise he could only be talking to me. "Have been for the past hour," I tell him.
"Really?" He sounded surprised, his sea blue eyes widening as he spoke. "It's been a while since we've had to stop on the way. I suppose the other ones probably still do but..." He stops himself. "Anyway, I'm Logan."
He shuffles along to the seat closest to me and offers me his hand. After a moment's thought, I shake it.
"Lu," I hesitate. Was there any need to hide my identity anymore? Morgana didn't explain that part. I take a chance and go for it. "Emma. It's Emma."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Emma," Logan replies with an amicable glint in his eyes. He retracts his hand not long after briefly shaking mine, then leans back into his seat to retrieve a water bottle from his bag.
A pained look momentarily flashes over his face as he brings the bottle closer to his lips. Two-thirds of the bottle later, his composure returns to his previous one. He relaxes in his seat, pulling the beanie of his head and running a hand through his current hat hair. I could only tilt my head in confusion as I watched all this take place.
Logan must have noticed my confusion as he angles his head to explain. "Hate flying," he sighs. "Can't wait till we finally get to the Greek Islands," he murmurs as an afterthought.
I latch on to the latter part of his sentence, not able to hide the alarm in my voice. "The school is in Greece?"
"No, no," Logan corrects me quickly. "As if Morgana would ever tell us the location of the academy," he chuckles lightly at the thought. "No, it's because the islands are named after–, never mind. You'll find out eventually."
He says it in such a nonchalant tone that I manage to put away my inner curiosity and accept his response.
Logan takes my prolonged silence as an end to the conversation as he then proceeds to replacing his headphones over his ears and heading back to sleep.
I am about to ask him something else but I change my mind. He seemed to tired to reply, anyway.
❧
Apparently, on private planes, there were no such things as arrival announcements.
Or at least, not on this one. The jet had landed so softly, I was probably reading when it happened. I sat there expectantly for 10 minutes, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, when Logan finally stirs again, I follow his lead out the plane. Bags slung over shoulders in identical positions.
The only difference is that when we're finally off, he is allowed to keep on walking forward in his usual unfazed air, as if taking a private jet to a boarding school for freaks was as common as taking a regular bus, while I am intercepted by an agent instructing me to wait.
It was still broad daylight, meaning the flight couldn't have lasted that long- except if there was a major time difference where we were. I couldn't even say where 'where' was. The runway we'd landed on wasn't your traditional airport one, but then again, I doubted we were in an airport of any kind in the first place- despite the fact there were 8 other identical jets in the vicinity.
Logan wasn't kidding when he called here an island. On one side, all I could was the ocean washing against the sandy shore, while tall, tropical looking trees obscured whatever lay on the other side. After scanning my surroundings, I settle my gaze back on the people left.
There are three new faces in front of me, but one sticks out clearly as the leader. The woman echoed a very Morgana-like fashion sense, and even her intimidating aura to a certain extent. Her chocolate brown hair was scraped into and elegant bun and she wore a white, collared blouse with a black pencil skirt paired with her glossy black Louboutin stilettos. The one thing that set her apart from Morgana was the glossy, blood red lip stick she had on her lips along with a tight lipped smile. If I've learnt something from Morgana's visit it's that she never smiles.
The woman finally looks up from her conversation with one of the other people to acknowledge my presence. The red lipped smile (albeit bordering on appearing a bit more than fake) brought a hint of colour to her ensemble, contrasting with her dark eyes and peachy complexion.
"Emma," she greeted jovially. She was the first person to call me by first name so far- other than Logan, of course. The way she said my name made it sound like she'd known me all my life rather than ten seconds. "There you are. It seems flight 15 was running a bit late." She frowns momentarily before physically shaking it off and stretching out her hand to shake mine. "Agent Redmond," she introduces herself. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"You... too...?" I reply hesitantly, unsure of how else to respond to that. I wonder what Agent Redmond could have heard about me to get such a positive welcome, but maybe it was just part of her nature. As usual I let it go without further questioning. It was always easier that way.
"This way," she beckons briefly before she begins to walk. "You have quite a busy evening, I must admit. Well? Aren't you coming?"
I blink. She was still talking to me. I increase my pace to catch up to her until we are walking side by side.
"Your things are already in your room," she continues, "including your hand luggage you had on the plane..." I reaching behind me to realise my bag is no longer hanging loosely from my shoulder. I could swear I had it a minute ago. Redmond doesn't give ask about this as she goes on with her list, "...a new phone, etcetera."
"A new phone?" I interject quickly to avoid being ignored.
She stops abruptly to stare at me. She definitely wasn't used to being interrupted. I watch her expectantly, and eventually she she expands. "Normal technology doesn't get past our firewalls," she tells me in a matter of fact way. "We find it easier to give all our students new phones, so they can communicate freely with both their friends and family without having to worry about... security issues."
I nod slowly, managing to piece together her words and mentally translate it into layman' terms.
"You'll have an hour or two to sort yourself out before we run a couple tests on you." Redmond said offhandedly, glancing at her watch.
I immediately frown at the word, "test". The way she said it made it obvious she didn't mean a pop quiz. I dare to ask her to elaborate.
"What do you mean by–." I don't get very far before I am interrupted by Agent Redmond.
"Oh look," she comments, raising her head slightly, "we're here."
My attention is captured as I turn my head to see exactly what Redmond was looking at.
We were here.
And here was definitely not Haven.
______
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
It's finally starting. Are you buzzing? 'Cause I'm buzzing. D'you know what's weird about this book? It's been planned 4,000+ words in advance with intent of an entire series involving the main characters. Yet, you actually haven't really met any of them. Well, that's about to change soon (or whenever I next update).
Carmen 🚕 (because Apple emoji suggestion insists)