Page 18 of First Echo

Something twisted in my chest, an uncomfortable feeling I didn't want to examine too closely. I turned back to Sam, forcing a smile. "Something like that."

The conversation flowed around me—Julian and Sam discussing which runs they wanted to try tomorrow, Victoria complaining about the cold, Audrey and Sophie debating which ski instructor was cuter. I nodded at all the right moments, made noncommittal sounds when questions were directed my way, but found my thoughts continuously drifting.

Brooke was eating quickly, methodically, her eyes fixed on her plate or her phone. Every so often, she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear in that unconscious gesture I'd noticed before. She looked so completely alone, yet somehow at peace with it, as if the noise and chaos of the dining hall couldn't touch her.

"Earth to Madeline," Sam said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You with us?"

I blinked, pulling my attention back to the table. "Sorry, what?"

Julian snickered. "Someone's a million miles away tonight. What's got you so distracted, sis? Plotting revenge on your roommate for making you look like a mess at dinner?"

My cheeks warmed. "No, I'm just tired. What were you saying?"

Sam repeated whatever it was he'd been telling me about tomorrow's plans, and I tried to focus, I really did. But my gaze kept wandering back to Brooke's corner. Except this time, when I looked, her table was empty. Her tray was gone, her presence vanished from the dining hall. When had she left? I hadn't noticed her get up, hadn't seen her walk out. For some reason, this bothered me. Where had she gone? Back to our room? Out exploring on her own?

"Madeline, hello? Earth to Madeline!" Victoria's sharp voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up to find everyone at the table staring at me. "Sorry, what?"

Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically. "I said, we're going out to explore town a bit and maybe hit up a bar. So let's go."

The others were already standing, collecting their things, excitement buzzing between them at the prospect of sneaking into one of the local bars with their fake IDs. On any other night, I would have been the first one ready to go, eager for the adventure, the change of scenery, the chance to do something a little rebellious and completely fun.

But tonight, for reasons I couldn't quite articulate even to myself, I hesitated.

"Actually, I think I'm going to pass," I heard myself saying, ignoring the chorus of surprised protests that immediately followed. "I'm pretty tired from today. I think I need an early night."

"Seriously?" Julian looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Since when do you, of all people, need an 'early night'?"

"Since today," I shot back, not wanting to explain the strange restlessness I couldn't shake. "Besides, I need to be rested for tomorrow."

Sam looked concerned. "Do you want me to stay back with you? We could watch a movie in the lounge or something."

The offer was tempting, but I shook my head. "No, you go have fun. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" His green eyes searched mine, and for a moment I felt a pang of guilt, like I was somehow betraying him by wanting to be alone.

"I'm sure," I said, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Go. Have fun. Tell me all about it tomorrow."

After a few more protests and promises to text, they finally left, their voices echoing in the hallway as they headed for the exit. I sat for a moment longer at the empty table, surrounded by dirty dishes and half-empty glasses, feeling strangely hollow.

The walk back to my room felt longer than it had earlier, the corridors emptier, the silence more profound. I kept my pace measured, not rushing but not dawdling either, my mind spinning with thoughts I couldn't quite wrangle into coherence.

When I reached room 217, I hesitated outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob. What was I expecting to find inside? Why did the prospect of entering fill me with such an odd mixture of anticipation and dread?

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, with just the small bedside lamp casting a soft golden glow over Brooke's side. She was propped up against her pillows, a book open in her hands. It was old and worn-looking, the spine cracked from repeated reading, the pages yellowed with age. She glanced up when I entered, her expression guarded.

"You're back early," she said, her tone carefully neutral.

I shrugged, dropping my key on the dresser and kicking off my shoes. "Yeah, well, I wasn't really in the mood for whatever bar-hopping adventure the others had planned."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but said nothing, returning her attention to her book. The silence stretched between us, not quite uncomfortable but not entirely easy either. I grabbed my pajamas and headed to the bathroom, changing quickly and then busying myself with my nighttime routine, washing my face, applying my various serums and creams, brushing my teeth until they gleamed. All the while, I was acutely aware of Brooke's presence just a few feet away, quietly turning pages, existing in her own little world.

When I emerged from the bathroom, she was still reading, completely absorbed. I studied her for a moment, taking in the slight furrow of concentration between her brows, the way her fingers delicately turned each page, the small, almost imperceptible smile that sometimes flitted across her lips in response to something she'd read.

"What are you reading that's so fascinating?" I asked finally, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

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