Nate walked into the hall and found a quarter of the student body were there already. He turned to see where he could sit, but Casper Adams was standing right by the door, staring at him, looking like a deer in headlights with the world’s weight hanging at his shoulders. 

Casper lunged and grabbed Nate by the arm with his free hand. It took everything in Nate not to flinch away.

“I need to speak to you.” Casper’s voice was gravelly, raw, like he’d only just woken up. His hair was a mess, his eyes red and swollen. 

Well, this sure sounded familiar.

Nate quirked an eyebrow at Casper, glanced at him up and down. “I’m not into drugs.”

Casper’s eyes went blank for a second before suddenly lighting up with rage. His grip on Nate tightened. “Fuck you,” he seethed. “I need a word. I’d appreciate it if you could nurture some basic human decency and deign me and moment of your precious time.”

The hatred, at least, shocked Nate enough for him to scoff. “Whoa. Did I do something?”

“That’s what I’m asking.”

Another student came through the door, nearly smacking Casper’s back when it swung open.

Angel Rivera was still blurry with sleep as he stumbled into the hall looking the personification of a hang-over. Richmond’s ice hockey goalie, proud owner of the most obnoxious florescent yellow gas mask, lit up with a grin when he saw Nate. It was a generalisation, but with the way he dressed and the way he dyed his hair (half pink, half platinum blond) you’d think he’d come from the Southside. 

“Fiffeee! THINK FAST.” He chucked Nate a can of ice-coffee. Casper let go of Nate for him to catch it, but Nate did it with one hand anyway. Casper snorted at that.

Wow. It was an odd feeling, to be hated.

Rivera already had sweat patches along the back and front of his grey Tetris T-shirt. He’d out-grown it a couple of years ago, but still insisted on wearing it because he thought it made him look more buff. He wasn’t wrong. The shirt hugged his biceps and chest enough to show off his dedication to the gym. 

“Oh, hey Adams, how you doing?” Rivera gave Casper’s back a hard thwack that almost tipped him over. “That speech you gave was really something. I’m sorry mate, really, it—“

Casper walked away. Rivera watched him go. “Shit, did I say something?”

Nate pulled off his mask and gave his coffee a good shake. “Thanks for the coffee.” They found themselves a seat near the back. Nate thought there’d be more students from his hockey team here, but apparently Rivera had lost a bet. The whole team sent him out to play pigeon messenger because the rest of them couldn’t be bothered. Fair enough.

The good thing about Rivera was that he could talk your ear off without noticing you was neither contributing or listening. You’d think someone might talk less with a hangover, but Rivera wasn’t deterred. Nate didn’t think Rivera could be quiet even in his death bed.

“You should’ve been there last night though mate, really.” Rivera chugged down his purple Lucozade like it had a time limit and gave a little internal belch. “It’s nearly the end of an era and I’ve still not got you piss drunk and I’m very upset about that. Oh yeah, what Uni did you apply—“

Mr Burton, Richmond’s Head of Sixth Form, appeared at the far left of the stage, frowning at the lack of turn out. The Hall hushed as he made his way to the front.

Nothing much was to be said. It was as Nate predicted: all left-over assignments would be done over email and the grades would be marked likewise. Should any students wish to see a teacher, they should refer to emails or meet in the High School section of Richmond. 

“Also, could the following students please stay behind after the assembly.” Mr Burton glanced down at a yellow post-it note in his hand. “MacKenyu Furuya. Keeley Maymac. Casper Adams. Nathaniel Fife. I repeat, will those four students, if they are present, please stay behind.”

Rivera widened his eyes at Nate, scandalised. “What’d you do?”

Nate shrugged. He couldn't be bothered with this.

When they were all dismissed, he stood along with the rest. Rivera gave him a look:‘erm, dude. You’re supposed to stay behind.’ Nate shook his head. He wasn't sticking around. 

Which meant it’d been a mistake to sit at the back. They couldn’t catch up with the rest of the crowd to blend in with them. By the time they got to the front, the hall was almost empty. 

“Nate!” Casper’s voice yelled from somewhere in the hall.

Fuck’s sake.

Nate ignored him. Rivera played along. They’d almost made it to the door when an arm stuck out in front of him. Nate skidded to a halt. 

It took him a second to recognise the face without the gas mask on. It was the girl from the Skyway station. “Hello again good-looking. Going somewhere?”

“Yes,” Nate said, deadpan. “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Tough tits. You’re staying.” She turned a look on Rivera, gave him a dazzling smile. “You’re leaving.”

Rivera read the threat in that just fine. “Rodger that.” He patted Nate on the shoulder. “See you later, Fife.” Once he got past the girl and into the hallway, Rivera turned and mouthed a very unsubtle ‘good luck’ over his shoulder. The girl closed the door on him.

“Don’t worry.” A woman approached them from the other side of the starkly empty hall. Nate noted first her pin-straight metallic pink hair. She wore a grey suit ensemble with a loose blouse shirt and a brown leather corset that matched the mask dangling at her waist. 

He didn’t know what was going on, but red flags were going up right left and centre.

Southsiders. Both of them. He was sure of it.

Careful. Careful. Careful.

“This will only take a minute,” the woman reassured. She was holding a bulk of brown envelops in one hand.

“What if I don’t have a minute?” Nate said.

The girl scoffed. “Please, no one’s that busy.”

Pink-haired woman nudged her head towards Casper’s general direction. “Vanessa, you take Casper.” She handed Vanessa one of the brown envelops.

Casper frowned. “I need to speak to Nate too.”

“Take a number, sweetie.” Vanessa grabbed Casper by the collar and dragged him out of the hall and into the hallway.

That left Nate with the mystery pink-haired woman. You’d think the pink would make her less intimidating, but it didn't. She was considerably smaller than Nate even in heels, but the way she held herself, the way she looked at him, almost made her look bigger. 

Nate kept his guard up. He knew better than anyone to never underestimate a woman. Pink-haired or no.

“You look two seconds away from running with your tail between your legs,” she said. “Am I that scary?”

“Depends who you are and what you’re here for,” Nate said, attempting a light-hearted tone.

She handed him the last of the brown envelope. Nate peered down at it but didn’t take it. His name was on the front, along with the fake address he’d given Richmond when he enrolled. “I won’t ask you why you gave your school a fake address, but know that I don’t appreciate the chase.”

Nate didn’t respond. 

“I’m a teacher at La Guida South.”

Red flag. Red flag. Red flag.

Nate’s brain was going at a hundred miles an hour. La Guida South. La Guida was one of the most notorious Universities in the South, not just because it was the only university in the South, but because of how bizarre it was as a whole. Why would a university from the Southside want anything to do with him? What did they know about him? 

“I took the liberty of going to your school to check your university choices,” Rose said, “Turns out you don’t have any. Even your teachers were surprised. Such a clever student they said, quite the athlete too, or so I’m told. Even better. With a record like that, you could get into school you chose. Care to explain?”

“I don’t need to explain anything. I’m not going to Uni.”

“Even with a scholarship?”

Nate stopped breathing. 

“What scholarship?” Nate was almost too afraid to ask.

“Mine.” Rose smiled. “The Elizabeth Rose of Aberrants Scholarship.”

Nate recognised the name. “The ERA programme.” He said, then finally made the connection. “You’re Professor Rose.” Not a question, but an accusation.

Rose was one of the youngest teachers at La Guida and their most problematic. She’d spent most of her youth making bad decisions, running with multiple streets gangs and doing hard drugs, when a near-death experience made her turn over a new leaf. Now she was one of the most over-achieving professors with a scholarship programme under her name.

What that scholarship entailed and what the recruiting standards were, no one knew, but one thing was for certain—not just anyone got in, and the scholarship paid for everything from education to accommodation in full price. It didn’t make sense, but in true South-Venoir fashion, logic didn’t matter.

His lack of information about this irritated him. Rivera had mentioned the ERA project only in passing, but not enough for it to be of any use. His gossip fuelled friend had failed him.

“So you’ve heard of me. Good. Then you should know that an offer like this comes once in a blue moon. Congratulations, you’re in.”

Nate stared at her, dumbfounded. “You recruit students from the North?”

“We don’t geographically discriminate, so yes. Problem?”

Nate couldn’t help it; he laughed. A horrible laugh that was humourless as it was desperate and tired.

“Ah. It was Will, wasn’t it?” Nate said. Rose didn’t respond, which was an answer in of itself. “He was one of your candidates. But he went and shot up one too many. He’d only been dead for a few days. His coffin is still warm and you’re already replacing him.”

Rose almost seemed amused. “You think I’m cruel.”

“I think you’re desperate.” He shoved the envelop back at Rose. “Find someone else.”

Rose looked at him with the patience of someone who had all the time in the world and none of the fucks-to-give. Nate didn’t know how someone could stand their ground so firmly in five inch stilettos. “Funny,” Rose said, humourlessly. “Will told me that exact thing. Funnier than that, he told us to give the scholarship to you.”

Nate frowned. “You mean to Casper.”

“No.” A pause. “This is classified information between William and I,” Rose explained. There was no sign of sympathy in her eyes as she spoke, but she had the decency to lower her voice, even if they were the only ones in the hall. “I don’t know what kind of shit you’re in Nathaniel, but Will told me some things. And judging by the false address and the fact that Will ended up six feet under, I don’t think he’s far from the truth.”

Nate suddenly felt cold all over. “Will didn’t know anything.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “So there’s something to know?”

Careful. Careful. Careful. Nate could feel a migraine blossoming somewhere at the back of his head. “Will was high as a kite,” Nate said. “I don’t know what jack-shit he was saying, but you’d be an idiot to believe everything he said.”

“Maybe.” Rose thrusted the envelope back to Nate, forcing him to hold it. “But either way, I want you to have this. You should know that my scholarship isn’t just an offering to pay for the next four sorry years of your life—it’s protection.”

“Protection against what?”

“Anything and everything,” Rose said, deadpan, as if it made any sense. “We pick our students very carefully, Nate. You don’t have to trust me, you don’t have to trust any of us, but trust this—you won’t get a better offer. You can do whatever you want in those four years apart from get yourself killed, four years to pick your battles, meet the right people. They’ll be a difficult four years, but they’ll be easier than what your life is now.”

“You know nothing about my life—”

“Whatever you do after those four years are up to you,” she bulled on, ignoring him, “But if you’re really as smart as they say you are Nate, then you know what the right decision is.”

Imagine that. Four more years of his life planned out for him. Four more years of pretending, of having a place to be, somewhere to go, maybe even a better place to stay.

But he could never have it. Not with Aurora at home.

Smart, she said. If Nate was smart, he would’ve dropped out of school after his mother died. He would’ve ran, and he would’ve ran further this time.

Nate shook his head. “I can’t just move to the South,” he said between shaky laughter. If Rose didn’t take that stupid envelope from him soon, he might throw up. He could already taste the bile. “I can’t. I really can’t.”

“Why?”

Nate kept shaking his head. Careful. Careful. How can he be careful when he was the bug under Rose’s microscope? When he didn’t know what Will might’ve said to Rose, or how much he’d told her.

Will fucking Rigby. To think that only in death would he be an eyesore.

Rose stepped close to him. “I’m not your enemy, Nate.”

“Maybe you are,” Nate said. “I don’t know that you aren’t.”

The whole world is our enemy. Do you understand Nathaniel? You cannot trust someone who is not family.

He was a child again. Sitting on that piano stool, the keys turning red. He was in that shabby shed, the darkness pressing against him. You’re gonna die. You can’t die. You’re gonna die. You can’t die. 

“Like I said, I’m not saying those four years are going to be easy..." Rose said. "You don’t have to tell me anything. But think about why you’re telling me no, and think about how you can tell me yes.”

Nothing could protect them. It was ignorant to assume Nate could have that—to wish for it.

But it was in his hand. He was chained to his past and God was dangling this opportunity, this promise, in front of him, watching to see if try to bite, if he’ll fight the restraints.

University. Four years. It was stupid, but he felt it—the want. He needed those four years, that foundation to collect himself, to know what to do with himself with his mother gone. He needed…something.

Nate swallowed the bitter taste of bile that coated his tongue. “One condition.”

Rose stared at him.

“I won’t use your accommodation. I can’t.” He couldn't take care of Aurora if he wasn't with her. Nate could read the suspicion in Rose’s eyes. She was trying to hide it, but with a mute sister, Nate was trained in reading expressions. 

“You want to commute?”

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Nate said. “Don't lie and say you don't want anything, because I know how people work. I don’t know what I can offer you either. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the one making the wrong decision trying to recruit me.” Rose gave a little smile. Is that so?  “And I won’t promise I’ll stay. I’ll do what I can and what I want…Is that enough for you?”

Rose’s shoulders relaxed an inch, relieved. “Are those your conditions?”

“So far.”

Rose nodded slowly. “You start on the 18th, next month.” She pointed to the envelope. “Follow the instructions. There’s a number in there. If you have any trouble, call it.”

Nate stared down at the envelope; at the name, the indigo blue La Guida’s insignia stamped at the corner. It took a while, but Nate nodded his head. Only then did Rose's smile seem sincere. “Welcome to La Guida.”