“Take me home,” I sobbed, my breath hitching. A souring pit formed in my stomach, and a wave of nausea dumped over me. My voice dropped to a cracked whisper. “I just want to go home.”
Jace rose, and in the next second he’d bent down and lifted me in his arms. As I drifted through the night air, the one thing I’ll always remember is the fireflies. Dozens and dozens of fireflies blinked over the creek bed, like a million stars littering the heavens.
“Everything’s going to be okay, Olivia,” Jace’s deep voice soothed me. “I swear it will.”
Glimpsing the blinking fireflies once more, I closed my eyes.
And prayed when I woke up in the morning, I’d realize this had all been just a terrible, sickening nightmare.
A year later …
The moment I spied the Welcome to Killian sign at the outskirts of town, my stomach dropped and my hands gripped the steering wheel hard. The small Texas college town sat half-way between Lubbock and Amarillo. Two hundred and forty-eight miles from home. Three hours and forty-four minutes by car, going the speed limit.
I hoped to God it’d be enough.
Peering through my shades, I noticed Killian’s Sonic parking lot was filled to the gills with rowdy boys, souped up trucks and hot rods. As I passed by, I eyed several girls sitting on the backs of opened tailgates, laughing and flipping their hair. Reminded me of my hometown of Jasper. What was it about a Sonic burger joint? Always seemed to be the popular hang-out spot. Part of me wanted to pull in, tell the hair-flippers to get a grip and leave. But the bigger part of me kept my foot on the accelerator. Stay low, keep quiet, and no one will even know I exist. Just the way I wanted it.
Slowing down, I hit my blinker and pulled into the massive brick entrance of Winston U. Flanked by huge magnolia trees and planted mounds of petunias and other annuals, a little of my earlier somberness over leaving home eased out of me. It was replaced by an excitement I was sort of surprised by. Things would be different here. I just felt it. No more stares, no more whispers. No more muffled giggles. No more rumors. No one knew me here. I’d just melt in to the population and be a big nobody. Invisible, like a ghost. Perfect.
I started down the main drive leading to admissions, and scanned the grounds ahead of me. Large colorful banners stretched across buildings that said WELCOME FRESHMEN, along with several home-made Greek signs for Rush Week. People were everywhere, on the lawns, the sidewalks, the parking lots. Maybe I should’ve taken up Mom’s offer to come with me today. My brothers had offered to come, too. Even Grandpa Jilly. I’d turned them all down, insisting I could—no, needed—to do this alone. What was I thinking? Stupid, stupid girl. Too late now, I was in it up to my gills. No turning back. Drawing a deep breath, I pushed my self-doubt aside. I can do this.
While not super huge, Winston was mostly well known for their successful baseball and football teams. The Silverbacks. But I’m not exactly a jockette or even into sports, so that’s not what drew me. Winston also had an extraordinary astronomy program, with a mega-observatory to boot. They called it the Mulligan, and when it was first installed in 1910 it had been the largest scope in the country. I’d been lucky enough to gain employment in the Science complex through the financial aid department. It was geek-girl heaven, and I’d be right smack in the middle of it.
Literally. I loved the stars, constellations, galaxies, and all that went with it. Staring through my scope at the seemingly infinity heavens had helped me get through the last painful year of high school. To a certain degree, it’d healed me, right along with my family. We Beaumont’s all stuck together—except for my dad, who’d pulled a disappearing act long, long ago. Other than my family, astrology was my life. All I’d ever wanted to do was study the stars, ever since I was a little kid and Jilly had given me my first telescope for my sixth birthday. Finally, it was happening. I just prayed the past would leave me alone. That the nightmares would stay gone, that the relentless fear which had for a while replaced my fearlessness would recede somewhere deep, deep inside of me. And would stay there. Forever.
As I kept my eyes on the street signs, my hand fumbled around on the bench seat of my truck until I found the campus map. Holding it up eye level, I navigated my way through several streets until I found my dorm. Oliver Hall held three stories, double occupancy dorm rooms, each with a private bath, and a common room. I’d been assigned to the second floor, dorm room 21. The parking was split into two sections, with Oliver Hall in the center. I pulled into the not-too-packed left side lot, found a spot closest to the front, and parked.