Page 26 of Freestyle
“No, it’s fine,” she replies as she pulls her phone out. “My dad is the person to handle situations like this.”
“What do you mean, situations like this?”
“Nothing. Forget I said anything.” Her voice is tense, her eyes darting around nervously as she types out a text.
I sit there awkwardly, not sure what to do or say. Lyndsy finishes her text and slips her phone back into her pocket.
“Dad’s sending someone,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. He knows how to take care of things like this.”
I frown, not understanding what she means. “Things like this?” I repeat, my tone laced with confusion. “What things?”
Lyndsy looks at me, her eyes filled with sadness. “My dad has connections, Rowyn. He can make sure no one finds out about this. He’ll protect us.”
I nod, still not fully grasping the gravity of the situation.
“He’ll make sure everything is taken care of. You’ll see,” she says.
I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. The way she talks is precise and calculated, like she’s done this before. I turn to Lyndsy, searching her face for any sign of concern. But she just stands there, her expression unreadable.
“What exactly does your father do?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. “I mean, it’s just weird that he knows someone like this.”
Lyndsy hesitates for a moment. I can see the wheels turning in her head, as if she’s deciding how much to reveal to me. Finally, she speaks. “My dad is in a special line of work. He helps people resolve problems. This guy is one of his associates.” She speaks quickly, her words rushed and hushed. It’s clear she doesn’t want to give me too much information.
I decide to drop it for now, sensing that Lyndsy doesn’t want to discuss her family’s shady activities any further. We sit there in silence for a few moments before we hear someone come through the front door.
“That’s probably Eli. Get some sleep. I’ll take care of this.” She’s out of the room before I can say anything else. I can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right, and I can’t help but wonder what else this family is capable of.
What have I gotten myself into?
Three
Rowyn
Beingbackoncampusevokes a wave of mixed emotions. Up until last night, I had found summer break to be quite pleasant, even enjoyable for the most part. The familiarity of Willowbrook Hall is striking; it appears almost unchanged since we left it a few months ago. It’s as if time has simultaneously stood still and raced forward. The surrounding landscape is vibrant; the trees are adorned with lush foliage, the grass is a rich green, and the sky is a clear, uninterrupted expanse of blue.
Despite the unchanged appearance of the campus, something feels different. Perhaps it’s the knowledge thatanother year has passed, that we’re all a little older, a little wiser. Or maybe it’s the realization that with each passing semester, we’re one step closer to graduation, to the end of this chapter of our lives. The bittersweetness of returning to campus lies in the juxtaposition of comfort and change, of familiarity and anticipation.
“Ready?” Lyndsy’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I stare at our dorm.
“Yep. Let’s do it,” I reply, pulling my luggage from the trunk.
Move in day is the busiest day of the year. Parents and students are all rushing around to get things in order before the semester begins. We navigate through the throng of people in the lobby as we make our way to the elevator.
“Excited to get back to normal life, Row?” Lyndsy asks as we step inside.
“Honestly, yes. It’s been a weird summer, but now I can get back into the swing of things,” I answer, thinking about how much has changed.
We reach our floor, the elevator doors sliding open with a soft ding.
“What room are we in again?” she asks.
“609. It’s right down there.” I point toward the end of the hall.
We make our way down the long corridor, passing closed doors on either side until we reach the one marked 609. I fish the room key out of my pocket and slide it across the lock, opening it with a click. The door opens, revealing a cozy dorm room similar to the one we shared last year with Fallon. We step inside, and I flick on the light switch.
I set my suitcase and backpack down on the bed in the middle room as Lyndsy does the same in the room to the left of mine. We quickly get to work unpacking and organizing our belongings, making the rooms feel more like home.
“Do you think Fallon will come by later?” Lyndsy yells, her voice muffled as she digs through her suitcase.
