I couldn’t suppress a groan as Maggie followed a line of vehicles through a set of iron gates and down the winding drive to Brennen Academy, her white Cadillac standing out like a neon sign among the Toyotas, Fords, and other low to mid-range cars the students drove. It was about fifteen minutes before morning bell, and the grounds seemed to swarm with people. Starring out the tinted window, I tried to push down the impending sense of doom that was slowly creeping in.

When we'd gone over the rules last night, going back to school had been one of them — an unwelcome prospect but not a surprise. I couldn't hang around Maggie's house for the next couple years until I turned eighteen, and homeschool wasn’t really a viable option, though I’d considered bringing it up. Returning to school was a dreadful inevitability that I would eventually have to deal with, I just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon.

I'd gone to bed thinking I’d have at least a few days to work up to it. Instead, I'd woken up to Maggie rapping on my door with the good news that Principal Himura had called and was able to meet with us before school this morning to get me reenrolled. I had more than a few choice words about her good news, but I said them under my breath as I struggled to get ready.

Being on my own had turned me into a night owl, and even with plenty of sleep, neither my body nor my mind were accustomed to having to function so early. Thirty minutes later, with my hair still damp and only the basics of makeup applied, I’d made it downstairs surprised to find breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen. I tried to make excuses, pleading for just a few more days to mentally prepare, but Maggie would have none of it, and I found myself practically being dragged to the car.

It's not that I had bad memories of this place, quite the opposite. The campus was beautiful. Less than ten minutes from the city, it sat behind a black iron gate on five heavily wooded acres. The main building was a two-story U-shaped structure with administrative offices and the elementary classes in the front, while the Junior High and High school occupied the other two wings. Behind the main structure stood two smaller buildings that served as male and female dorms for the students who needed boarding.

All the structures were the same; dark gray brick, white columns, and high arching windows. It was a stunning example of the colonial style that was so popular when it was built nearly three centuries ago when Arthur Brennan and the other founders established the first Tuatha community in the new world. The first Tuatha community anywhere in more than four thousand years. Of course, it had been a manor back then, not a private school.

It wasn't just the atmosphere of the school that I loved; I had thoroughly enjoyed the academics as well. Brennan Academy excelled in all the standard fields, and their choice of electives and extracurriculars were extensive, especially considering its size. And then there were the classes that would never show up on any transcripts, the ones that taught you how to access your awen and use magic. I had loved going here, and the school had always felt like a second home to me, at least until that horrible day when my mom disappeared, and my life fell apart.

“Hey, chin up,” Maggie glanced over at me, shifting the car into park. “I know it’s hard coming back like this, but it’s for the best, you’ll see,” she continued, reaching over to pat my knee before climbing out.

Snorting, I hopped out, grabbed my bag, and slammed the door shut a little harder than I’d intended. Sorry, I mouthed when Maggie cast me a reprimanding glance before turning to head inside. Slinging my purse onto my shoulder, I followed, my feet dragging with every step.

Maggie ignored the stares and murmurs as she walked up the steps and through the front doors. I couldn’t do the same. Though I didn’t look up, I found myself listening to the quiet voices, straining to make out what they were saying. More than once, I thought I heard someone say my name. Hunching my shoulders, I hurried to follow Maggie inside.

Just a couple of days ago I was sure I would never set foot in this place again. Walking through the crowded hall, I couldn't help but remember the last time I'd walked this path, albeit in the opposite direction, with two agents flanking me and the hushed whispers of the other students at my back. This time, instead of the thud of sturdy boots, it was the sharp click of Maggie's heels echoing off the rows of red metal lockers, that accompanied me, but the whispers were still there.

Staring at Maggie’s back, I couldn’t help feeling a little resentful. Was this some form of punishment, a kind of walk of shame? All we had to do was arrive twenty minutes later, and everyone would have been in class.

"Can I help you?" the secretary asked as we walked into the Administrative Office.

"Maggie Donley and Desirae Cradle to see Principal Himura," Maggie said.

"Of course, right this way." We followed her down a short hall towards the back where she ushered us into a large dimly lit office.

"Nice to see you," Principle Himura said, standing and reaching over the desk to shake Maggie's hand. "Please have a seat," she said, indicating the two chairs arranged in front of her desk.

Mrs. Himura had been the principal when I’d left, but I'd never had much contact with her, and this was my first visit to her office. It was everything her reputation suggested it would be. A large dark wood desk dominated the center of the space, while several massive bookshelves, their contents meticulously arranged, lined the walls. Nearly every inch of wall was filled with plaques and certificates, perfectly spaced and aligned as if someone had gone around the room with a ruler to make sure they weren't even a centimeter out of alignment.

Three black and white scrolls with sweeping Japanese calligraphy hung across from her desk and were the only ornamentation in the room. There were two large windows, but heavy curtains drawn tight completely blocked the morning sun. A single desk lamp provided the only source of light, making the room dim to the point of gloomy. The low lighting and overpowering furniture made the room feel claustrophobic, almost suffocating.

The woman behind the desk was every bit as rigid as her office. Straight bangs made a sharp line across her brow while the rest of her black hair was pulled back into a tight twist. Red glasses that matched her perfectly tailored suit rested on a small, slightly upturned nose, framing large dark brown eyes. Pulling her laptop closer Mrs. Himura’s red manicured fingers flew across the keyboard, her computer screen springing to life with what I could only assume was my academic career. I sat there, speaking only when asked a direct question while the two women discussed my future.

Prior to running away, I had been a good student, an excellent student actually. I'd taken extra classes in junior high, and during my freshman year, I’d participated in the advanced placement program that was set up so that I would be able to take some college classes during my junior and senior years. I had wanted to be a teacher, history or English perhaps, but that dream had seemed so far off for so long now that I’d completely given up on it.

My prior academic rigor was what ended up saving me. After about thirty minutes, they had worked out a schedule that if I adhered to it perfectly, would have me graduating on time with the rest of my class. I would need to take a couple of mandatory sophomore classes, and summer school was a definite, but it was doable. I would still barely make the minimum course credits to graduate, but at least I would graduate.

To my relief, the hallways were practically empty by the time we left Mrs. Himura's office; my new class schedule clutched in my hand.

"You're going to be fine," Maggie said, taking the already crumpled paper from my fingers and smoothing it out. "Just keep your head down and work hard," she continued, handing it back.

That was easier said than done. I hadn't been a popular student before, but I hadn’t been a social pariah either. I'd occupied that pleasantly safe middle ground, where I had a couple of close friends but was on good terms with pretty much everyone, and that was the problem. I hadn't been an unknown. I knew practically everyone in my class by name, and they knew me, not that that was unusual for a school our size. From the earlier whispering, I’d already been recognized. There was bound to be questions, rumors; simply keeping my head down might not be an option. I didn’t voice my concerns to Maggie; there was nothing she could do about them anyway.

Maggie promised she would be back to pick me up at three. Saying goodbye, I went in search of my locker. I kept my eyes glued to the floor, refusing to make eye contact with the few students I passed in the hall. I hadn't thought about what I was going to tell people; if anyone was bold enough to ask, and I didn't want anyone feeling invited into a conversation I wasn't ready for.

Luckily my first class was a mandatory English II. Not only was English my second favorite subject, language fascinated me with all its nuances and complexity, but it was also a sophomore level class. I had run at the end of my freshman year, which meant everyone in the class would have been in junior high when I left.

With the junior high and high school each having their own wings there wasn't much mixing between the upper and lower classman, and it was doubtful that anyone here would know my name let alone recognize me. To my relief, Mr. Mansell didn't make me stand at the front of the class and introduce myself, instead, he just handed me a textbook and directed me to an empty seat near the back. Several of the students watched as I took my place, but they were the curious looks that any new student would receive.

The rest of the morning passed without incident. There were a few people I recognized but none that I had been particularly close with. A couple of students did a double take when they first saw me, but no one said anything directly to me, and the whispering died down pretty quick. I don't know if it was because of the circumstances of my departure, but the other teachers followed Mr. Mansell's example. None of them had me do the cursory introductions that most new students had to suffer through, so I remained pleasantly anonymous and under the radar. I was feeling pretty good about how things were going until the bell rang for lunch.

Stepping into the cafeteria, a wave of clatter and voices greeted me. I hadn't recently spent a lot of time in crowds, living alone and mostly working alone, and the whole experience was a bit overwhelming, and I could feel myself growing tense. I considered skipping lunch, and just sitting in one of the empty study halls, but I knew it wouldn't be any easier tomorrow or the next day. Better to get it out of the way.

Picking up my tray, I worked my way through the lunch line, selecting a chicken sandwich and carrot sticks with ranch dip. Weaving through the cafeteria, I ignored the glances as I searched out an empty table. With the beautiful weather still holding, several students were eating outside, and there was plenty to choose from. I passed by the ones towards the middle of the room and headed to the back. I was already feeling exposed, and I didn't want to be sitting in the middle of a room full of people. Setting my tray down, I sat with my back to the wall. Biting into a carrot, I studied the faces in the room, looking for two in particular.

There were two people I had been equal parts excited and terrified to see again, one a little more than the other. I had to scan the room twice before I spotted one of them. My eyes had brushed entirely over her the first time and would have missed her the second as well if she hadn't turned to speak to the girl sitting next to her just as I focused on their table. I dropped my head down so as not to be caught staring, but she didn’t look my way.

It was amazing how much a person could change in a little over a year. The halo of dark curls Amber used to have had been shaved to a quarter inch of peach fuzz and her messy oversized clothes were now fitted designs that drew your eyes to her tall, athletic frame. She was sitting with a group of girls I recognized from the junior varsity volleyball team, at least they'd been JV; they must be the varsity team now. Had she joined? They seemed to be close, laughing, and talking. Amber had always been good at sports, her height giving her a natural advantage, but she had never had the confidence to try out for anything, no matter how much her family or I encouraged her to do so.

I don't know what I'd hoped to see. Maybe some evidence that she had been as lost without me as I'd been without her. Some visible sign that she would be as eager to resume our friendship as I was. But that wasn't the case. She seemed relaxed and happy, much more at ease with a crowd than she'd ever been before. She laughed at something the girl next to her said, and a slight pang of jealousy clouded my mind; she'd been my friend first.

I was glad that she was happy, I really was, but I couldn't help the tiny ball of despair that settled in my stomach. There was no reason for me to expect things to go back to the way they were, for her to take me back with open arms and forgive me. I had virtually abandoned her. Not so much as a call or even an email or letter.

I’d been ashamed of what happened. Unsure of myself, my head spinning from the loss of my mother and my identity, I couldn't bring myself to take the first step. To reach out and make contact, contact that I feared might bring the authorities down on me even though I knew she would never intentionally betray me. Then too much time had passed, and I eventually convinced myself that a clean break was best for everyone. After all, it's not like I was ever coming back.

I sat watching the small group, hoping that maybe she would look up. That we would make eye contact, even if only for a second, just enough for me to gauge if there was a chance. A few of the girls she was sitting with shot occasional glances my way, but she never did, and before I knew it the lunch period ended. I waited until most of the other students had filed out before I got up and dumped my mostly uneaten tray into the garbage.

The rest of the day didn’t go nearly as well as my morning had, but it wasn’t disastrous either, just uncomfortable. Most of my afternoon classes were junior level, and I recognized quite a few people. They stared, and they whispered, but no one approached me. I focused on the lecture and did my best to put the other students out of my mind.

Amber wasn't in any of my classes, and I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or not. Before I would have been bummed to not have a single class with her, but I was scared that if we actually bumped into each other, she would make it clear that she wanted nothing to do with me. I didn't know if I could handle her flat-out rejection. I managed to make it through the rest of my classes though I can't say I remembered much of anything.

Relief washed over me when the final bell rang. I stopped by my locker long enough to throw my books onto the shelf and grab my coat and bag before practically sprinting out the front doors. I hadn't realized how confined, and claustrophobic I'd felt until the fresh air and sunlight hit my skin. Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the parking lot looking for my ride. My eyes settled on a familiar vehicle, and my fragile bubble of serenity instantly burst. Instead of Maggie's white Cadillac, a black SUV was waiting for me, the silhouette of a tall blonde barely visible through the tinted glass.