Page 1 of Encounter

My nineteenth birthday... It was supposed to be greater, happier than the last one. I promised myself that last year. Just like the one before.

It certainly wasn’t supposed to be anything likethis.

Rattling around the back of the van, I barely managed to focus on anything other than the beating of my panicked heart and the fast, shallow breaths which made it unbearable under the thick fabric of the bag around my head. My body was frozen, like it didn’t even belong to me, and my mind jumped between worrying about suffocating, wondering about the way I was going to die, and trying to figure out what happened.

Where exactly did this day turn from a boring, crappy Thursday at school to me getting dragged into a black van—being tied up and kidnapped?

Moving my head so that I didn’t lie on my cheek where my glasses dug into my face, I took another desperate breath through the musty, itchy fabric.

I tried to go back in my mind, but everything was fuzzy, and the clattering of my teeth made it hard to focus.

My morning was routine and lonely. Dad already left for work by the time I got up, as always. The lectures at the Conservatory—where I spent half my day trying to avoid anyone’s attention—were all per usual. The lunch break was different. Zola, my only friend, found me at the back of the outdoor eating area, bringing a spark of light with her. She had a square-shaped, flat package in hand.

With all the start of the school year craziness—adding to the pressure I was under—and the paralyzing realization of how many of my entitled, arrogant high-school bulliesslashclassmates took the same classes at the prestigious Humbert Senegal’s Conservatory, I was already on the verge of crumbling into pieces by the end of the second week.

So much for fresh starts...

“You thought I’d forget?” Zola grinned as soon as she stopped next to me. Her soft voice finally brought most of my attention to her, after it was consumed by Blake Sorden’s eyes glaring at me from across the courtyard. I managed to avoid that raging narcissist and his goons for the most part, but I was sure he was going to come up and remind me of ouragreementand force me to do a bulk of his schoolwork like the years before. It felt like we were still in high school—like I didn’t move forward at all—and I hated that.

“You didn’t have to,” I blurted once I realized how long it took me to reply. Trying to give her my full attention, I forced an awkward smile.

Instead of judging me, Zola playfully bumped my shoulder and handed me the package. Soothed by the fact she was at least a little used to my weirdness and single-mindedness, I began unwrapping it.

There weren’t many things the gift could have been. The moment I uncovered an LP record, pure happiness I seldom experienced took over me.

“Lucia Huang. Oh my— Oh my god!” I nearly screamed. The buzz spreading through my body grew even stronger when I noticed the cover was autographed. “Where did you find this?!” An obscure, long-gone Chinese piano player’s signed record wasn’texactlysomething one just ordered online. I tried. “How the hell did you get this, Zol?” I asked again, unable to believe my eyes as I ran my fingers over the edges of the record—charmingly shabby and damaged by time, making it that much more endearing.

Look, Mom. I’m holding it in my hands. Like you would’ve wanted. God, it’s beautiful!

“It wasn’tthathard.” Zola shrugged with a modest smile and looked away like it was nothing big. “Mom helped. She knows all about this stuff. Has her connections or whatever, you know that.”

I looked up at her with an intensely serious expression. “Th-thank yousomuch.” I wanted to hug her so badly, but the possible looks from those around stopped me. I hated people watching, judging.

“It’s nothing. Nineteen’s a big deal!” Zola waved her hand, accompanied by a wink. “I wanted to give you something special. I’m really happy you like it.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry aboutthat. I got two pairs of expensive shoes and a watch that probably costs more than some cars from Dad. Great, huh?” I flashed my wrist at her and didn’t have to say anything else for her to know the watch wasn’t even close to what I truly wanted or cared about.

We stayed quiet, until Zola spoke again. “Do you wanna... go somewhere to eat after school? Get a coffee or something? To properly celebrate.”

I paused in surprise, pressing my lips into a straight line.

Oh no—that split moment sensation attacked me again. My brain told me one thing while my heart said another. Zola was my only real friend, and I was more grateful for her than she could ever know. But after so many years of loneliness, human interaction outside of what I was used to sometimes seemed too much.

Too much stress. Too much effort.

I wanted to be a good friend—she was only asking for the bare minimum. Yet just the thought of being unable go and unwind in the calming security of my music room after the whole day of being surrounded by people at the Conservatory made my anxiety unbearable.

Lowering my gaze, I tried to think of a nice, polite way to decline. Again. I really hoped I wasn’t nearing a point when she would get sick of me.

“I... can’t. Dad’s so agitated these days. I have to go straight home. This course’s a lot harder when you actually have to excel, not to mention all the extra credit work he wants me to do.” I didn’t want to lie to her, but with all the pressure I constantly felt under, there was no other way. “Maybe some other day, just not today, okay?”

What I said about Dad was true, at least.

“Ah, no problem! That’s cool,” Zola nearly spouted out and quickly responded with that kind, soft smile. “Seriously. We can go another day. Doesn’t matter.”

With the guilt pooling on the bottom of my stomach, I looked at her, still holding the LP in my hands, and thought about maybe being spontaneous for once. Before I had a chance to pick up the courage, she blurted out something about the admission office, patted my hand, and ran off.

Another day.Another day, I was going to push myself out of my comfort zone.Just not today.

---