Page 213 of A University of Betrayal

There it was again. That broad smile that felt as warm as if the sun was shining on my skin.

And she dropped the pillow, stormed out of the room, and returned with her arms full of pillows and blankets.

“I stole them from the living room. Don’t tell Mum,” she joked mischievously, as if I was actually planning to do that, and immediately began to stretch the blanket over the bed frame to the handles of her closet. She tossed me another one, and so it happened that Bayla Adams and Julian Bardot – two students with far too many problems in their lives – built a den.

We stretched the blankets up to the window, where we made the floor comfortable and slid my mattress in. When we were done, she came crawling over to me, still smiling, and lay down next to me.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered, and I felt a childlike anticipation rise up inside me. Then I heard the click. “And now open them again.”

It was no longer dark, as it had been before. There were lots of little stars around us, illuminating the inside of the den as if it were a magical place. It certainly was,for children. And at that moment, lying next to Bay on that mattress, I felt like a child, carefree and untroubled, somehow safe.

I looked at Bayla, who grinned at me so playfully, as if she had just fulfilled a dream herself. Then she reached into the shelf next to her and pulled out a book, before she began to read quietly.

Stormy Nights

Cho

I looked out of the open floor to ceiling window through which the cold November air was streaming in and listened to the rain and thunder above Blairville, which triggered the familiar feeling of awe in me. There was still something unsettling about it.

“I love thunderstorms,” Bay suddenly said and, without looking at her, I knew she was gazing out of the window too. “I feel so energized every time there’s a storm, when there’s lightning.”

“You could be an Air Quatura,” was all I said, even though Quatura had nothing to do with the weather. Bay boxed me, visibly displeased, and I raised my hands. “I’m just saying.”

“Stop assuming anything. It’s not helping me,” she grumbled in playful annoyance and continued reading.

After a good while, I sighed. “I’m sure the worlds in your books are more beautiful than this one.”

She put the book down, and I immediately felt bad because I was certainly keeping her from enjoying her time.

“I always had the same thought,” she began with a soft voice. “Until I realized that it’s in our hands how we shape this world.”

A beautiful thought that was certainly comforting when you were living a human life.

“And then you came to Blairville,” I said as I looked out of the window again.

Bayla lay down next to me and propped herself up on her elbows. And then we stared up at the sky together. At some point, she lay down on her back, still looking out.

“I think Alice was further along than we are...”

“In what way?”

“She couldn’t really trust anyone, but that didn’t stop her from questioning the system, even if it had been forbidden.”

“It probably cost her her head,” I replied.

“Don’t be so pessimistic.” Bay looked at me reprovingly.

“I’m being realistic.”

“It’syourreality.” Her eyes remained focused on me. “And everyone has their own. That speaks to the fact that our realities are relative and that there isn’t just one truth.Theoretically,we are able to change something in this system.”

Lost in thought, I looked out of the window again.

Even if I could change something, what would the consequences be? And could I live with it? Especially without further destroying my family?

“I think it was Alice’s room, and I’m sure the rest of the diary is still there somewhere,” Bayla sighed.

I realized that this little action with the den had only taken her mind off things for a short time.

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