Page 9 of Into the Light

“But I do. It’s literally my job.”

“Santiago,” I whined, and he laughed before going down the hall. He stopped and turned around.

“Remember to lock the doors.” I did exactly as he asked after retreating into the apartment.

As I took a few strides back over to that window and looked outside at the forest, I wondered if I would ever have the courage to go to Ash’s rock. To go where . . . Ash . . .

I glanced downward, my hand rising to my cheek where moisture had gathered. While pushing the tears away, my fingers brushed against the O etched below my ear. Sometimes, especially when the night embraced the world, I could feel a faint burn, a lingering reminder of what could have been.

Shaking off those thoughts, I shifted my gaze to where Marissa had left my camera. When I first spotted the film class on my school schedule, I thought little of it. However, curiosity compelled me to read the class description. Working in the darkroom to develop the film we captured intrigued me. It seemed to be a self-directed class, with lab times dedicated to processing the film.

As I picked up the camera, a sense of purpose settled within me. The film class seemed like a perfect fit for this semester, aligning with my desire for minimal interaction with others. The prospect of spending time in the darkroom, immersed in my own thoughts and work, felt oddly comforting. It was a way to channel my emotions into something creative without having to engage with the outside world more than necessary.

I slipped the camera into my backpack and made my way to my bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I exhaled deeply, letting the weight of the day settle. I placed the backpack on my desk and looked at the camera, a tool that would help me capture moments and express myself in a way that words often couldn’t.

The room remained stark, aside from the one photo of Ash and me I’d put on my nightstand. I told myself I’d personalize the room, then remembered it wasn’t my home. I had a few houses, but I felt lost. I didn’t quite feel like I had a home yet, and maybe one day when I did, I’d think about personalizing it.

Climbing into bed, I closed my eyes, and sent a silent plea to the universe. Maybe tonight the nightmares would stay at bay, allowing me some respite from the torment that had become my nights. I hoped that tomorrow would start fresh and, maybe because it had been almost a year since everything happened, I could slip under the radar.

A girl could dream, huh?

Chapter four

“You need to come up with an elective, and fast,” my adviser, an older woman with wiry gray hair and a bright floral top said as she shifted in her chair on the other side of the desk.

“Why?” I moaned, running my hands through my hair. On the first day of school the last thing I wanted to do was sit in here. I glanced around at the overly obnoxious colorful paintings of the beach and ocean which seemed ironic since we were in the forest. Truly, the happiness in this tiny room made me repulsed, but the frantic email this morning from Ms. Burns telling me I needed to be here STAT forced me up at the crack of dawn.

“You failed your classes and are only starting to catch up. You somehow failed your elective, so before you can register for any upper-class writing sections, you need to figure out an elective.” She handed me a piece of paper, sliding it slowly like it contained the answer to all my problems.

“What is this?” I looked down at the paper, and everything seemed like gibberish.

“These are all the electives that are currently available. Since the semester started today, most things are taken, but there are some spots available.” I looked more carefully at the paper.

“Introduction to Farming?” I narrowed my eyes at her and laughed. “This must be a joke.”

“It most certainly isn’t. I guess I am the only one thinking about your future here.” She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. I wondered how long it took for her to find a pair of earrings with matching bright-pink and neon swirls like her dress.

“Ms. Burns, please. Iamthinking about my future, but as you know, my brother passed away a mere eight months ago. Sorry if Introduction to Farming is the one thing I read today that actually will bring me joy and not swallow me in a pit of despair.” Her eyes grew wide.

I tried to keep the cool facade wrapped tightly around me, but something inside of me stirred at the mention of Ash’s name.

“I-I’m so sor—”

“Underwater basket weaving sounds interesting,” I interrupted, not wanting to hear any half-assed apologies from people who had truly no idea what I was going through.

“You’ll have to go into Dansport for the final for that one,” she explained.

Hard no.

“What about the film class?” she asked. “It is a very quiet class and usually the pace is at your own leisure. There is one small partner-based project that you have to work on, but otherwise, although the class has certain times, you can come and go as you please.”

Huh. If I picked a partner who was smart enough, then maybe I didn’t have to do any of the work and could focus on whatever Mr. Ortiz needed from me. It kind of sounded like a perfect fit.

“Why didn’t you just say that from the start?” I laughed, and she started typing furiously on her computer.

“There is only one more spot left.” There was a dramatic pause before she clicked her mouse. “Got it.”

She clapped her hands. “Bad news is that the class starts today in roughly one hour, so you better get going. It’s over by the English building in the basement.” She handed me a piece of printed paper with the details. I grumbled before grabbing my backpack and heading off.

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