The school bell rang right as Dawn had stepped out of their tutor room. Blasting their ears with the unceremonious metallic ringing of what they swore was of Hell itself. They braced themselves to walk through the halls with their hands stuffed deep inside their pockets– they couldn’t be bothered to cover their ears to muffle the sound.

The halls were slowly filling up with students as he made his way downstairs and out to the gardens. Everyone was going separate directions, some up the stairs, some down— First period, at least that’s how it was for most of them.

Dawn was free first thing in the morning, in an ideal world that would’ve been pure bliss. They’d have the time to do whatever they wanted. They could've gone to pick up an instrument in the music room, or study up on tricky topics they couldn't understand in class, and maybe they’d actually have the time to lounge around! Anyone with a right mind would’ve used their free time to the fullest, but unfortunately that wasn’t the case for them. Something else was waiting for them entirely, something they couldn’t get out of even if they tried.

Dawn walked through the main courtyard at a brisk pace, kicking pieces of debris up from the brick ground as they walked with their head dipped down, routing their steps towards the greenery in the courtyard. They didn’t even have to look ahead as they made their way over there. This had become routine after all, every Monday, first thing in the morning, ever since the start of the year. Dark ebony eyes scanned the lawns in hopes to pick out a certain someone. 

It wasn’t hard to spot Mr. Makoa, absolutely no one had the right to be that tall and imposing— he stuck out like a sore thumb tending to the flowers here, it was almost comical. They traced their gaze from flowering roses and asters, to the lush, pruned bushes, only to find Sir crouched behind one, surveying the blooms like some beefed up horticulturist.

“Boo.” The word slipped bleakly through their lips.

“...Oh.” Mr Makoa looked up  from observing one of the rose buds without so much of a reaction. He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened around the edges. It was kind of how he smiled without ever actually doing it. “Good Morning Dawn, ready to get some work done?”

They sighed, dragging it out for longer than they needed to as they walked over to the nearby shed. Clasping the doorknob in one hand and gripping the straps of their bag in the other. Do this once, do it a million times again.

“Yeah. Ready as I’ll ever be– like I have a say in this anyway...” Sir scoffed at their attitude, almost questioning them for the early morning sass. “At least let me change out of this nasty uniform first.”

Sir rolled his eyes at them before giving Dawn the okay to do so. They pulled the random shirt and pair of trousers they dragged out of their closet for the occasion, grimacing at the fact that they’d accidentally picked out one of their favourite graphic tees instead of some other shirt. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at their current predicament. A teenager forced into groundskeeping against their will, changing in a freezing tool shed, into an expensive tee they’d definitely be getting dirty– this shit was the dumps.

‘Don’t have the money for our tuition fees? Well you’re in luck! We’ll just house your kid here in exchange for fucking child labour.’ 

Dawn fought the urge to throw a hissy fit in that shed, so much for being a scholarship student, huh? Getting hard labour done first thing in the morning would never not piss them off. And all this right after one of the most horrifying, confusing, and feverish moments of their life. Their mind flashed to Opening Night for a split second, and icy chills ran down their back. What a fucking joke.

But it was whatever, right? Dawn didn’t have the time to be ruminating over that anyways. They burst the shed door open, sighing as they ran their hand through strands of dyed pink hair.

“So what's wrong with the school for today, Sir?” Mr Makoa stood up from his spot on the ground, only nodding as he wordlessly went to rummage around the back of the shed to find tools, or whatever it was he needed– Sir was just such a talker. It was almost overwhelming trying to keep up with him in conversation.

Sir came out of the shed, handing Dawn a shovel as he pulled a giant wheelbarrow in tow, leading the way to a part of the gardens a little while away from the shed that was neither populated with people nor flora. All of a sudden Dawn connected the lingering dots in his mind, and they felt themselves fold over in despair.

“Here we are.” Sir dropped his grip on the wheelbarrow’s handle, letting the rusted metal collapse onto the main structure with a painful groan as he picked up the second shovel he threw onto the pile just before they left. “We’ll be working here today.”

They looked over at the pile coming face to face with– a bunch of shrubs. They’d rather just kill themselves then and there rather than doing this at 7 am in the morning, but Mr Makoa’s iron stare made it clear to them that there was no getting out of this.

They bit back a sharp sigh. The next 20 minutes were spent in focused silence, shovelling up dirt, planting a shrub, packing the dirt back in– it was repetitive, but numbing. They always thought it was a mistake to wear short sleeved t-shirts out in Willowfield’s cold autumns, but the biting cold proved helpful after a while of heavy lifting. Their heart was racing, their limbs started to ache, and a thin layer of sweat condensed on the surface of their skin, but each time they stopped to take a break they were only reminded of how much more they still had to do. 

“So… how was Lunaris?” 

Sir’s voice broke the silence, and Dawn froze mid way through wiping sweat off their forehead. “How was Lunaris…? Sir, c’mon- you know the answer to that already, remember? You, like, lectured me about it for hours last night?” They turned to face him, rolling their eyes. Dawn stuck their shovel up in the ground, leaning on the makeshift pike as they lifted a hand to list points off one-two-three on their fingers.

“No, I did not get mixed up in a fight. Yes, I just got lost in the god awful layout they had for the main street. No, I did not try to sell the others drugs and no, neither Mitzi or Rubie were under the influence of something back then. Happy?” They shot him a sickly sweet smile for good measure of sarcasm. Honestly! Mr Makoa was making a big deal out of a whole load of nothing.

“I would be,” he said that in between effortlessly shovelling up mounds of dirt. “if it answered what I was going to ask you.”

Dawn narrowed their eyes at them. “Then out with it, Sir.”

“If you didn’t hurt them then, did someone else?”

Dawn raised a brow at them, taking slight offense at the notion that Sir thought they ever could. “No.” They kicked the top of the shovel’s blade deep into the earth “no one got hurt, Sir.”

“Then why did you get home so late?” 

“Got lost.” Dawn heaved the handle upwards, “see the damn layout of the festival for yourself, Sir. It’s dogshit”

“You don’t get home late looking like that for nothing. I’m not blind, Dawn.” Dawn stopped heaving the shovel.

“Miss Yang was ghost pale, Mitzi looked like she’d just belched her guts out. And you… You were the most emotional I’ve ever seen you be. You’re a ticking time bomb when you’re nervous, did you know?”

Dawn couldn’t get themselves to speak. They didn’t want to tell the truth– they didn’t want to remember what they saw, and Dawn was more than certain that Mr Makoa wouldn’t believe a single thing they said anyways. But he was pressing into them like they were a damn criminal… It didn’t give them much of a choice.

“What happened, Dawn?”

At the sound of Sir’s voice they broke back into control. “Nothing.” Their voice was a match for what was going on through their mind. Lost, defensive, irritated. Dawn snapped their head up to look at Mr Makoa. “Why are you so interested??”

Mr Makoa kicked the shovel into the ground, clean, neat and efficient. “I’m just asking questions. If you were in danger I need to know”

“Bullshit– why would you?? You’re not my dad.” Mr Makoa continued, pressing further and further while ignoring any and all threats Dawn shot his way, never once losing his cool nor his drive to get to whatever they were hiding.

“Did you find anything strange?”

“No.”

“Did someone weird talk to you?”

“No– for fuck’s sake–”

“Then did you see anything that day?”

“No! No, I didn’t- ugh…” 

The words caught up in their throat. ‘Did you see anything’ was an understatement, and they only realised that a second too late. The images of fresh blood forced their brain to playing those memories over and over as if they were back at that place again. Mr Makoa had caught onto their panicked silence.

“Just tell the truth, Dawn. This stuff is… crucial.” Sir was still shovelling up dirt, as if everything was going as according to a random Monday morning. “The more you don't say the worse it makes you seem, you know?”

“I–” they wanted to argue back, but couldn't find the words to do so. “Fine…” 

Dawn dropped the shovel into the ground. “We… uh- me, Rubie, YV, Mitzi… We all saw something in a tent on opening night.” Sir stopped shovelling, the rhythmic scraping of the tool against the earth coming to a standstill.

“It, uh, looked illegal… it was probably special effects or whatnot. But it scared us shitless. We all ran and panicked because of it and I get it, we’re dumb teens and we overreacted. That’s it, Sir. That’s it.” 

Dawn wanted to believe the words coming out of their mouth so much. But for whatever reason they sounded all the more unsure when they said it aloud.

“What did it look like?” Sir asked them, his tone cold.

Silence. Dawn had met his question with their head down in silence despite how urgent it seemed.

“The Occult. Was it something a cult would do?”

Dawn looked up from their shoes, too slow to hide the shock that involuntarily took over their face. Unknowingly letting him know that he’d hit the nail on the head. His eyes grew sharp, not like the razor edge of a knife, but like the way invasive sunlight bounced into your eyes from reflections in a magnifying glass. 

He walked over to Dawn in a matter of steps, placing a hand on their shoulder with such an air of severity Dawn didn’t have the balls to go against him.

“Dawn.” His voice was low, lower than it usually was. “I need you to promise me something.” 

They opened their mouth to mumble an affirmative, but Mr Makoa cut them off.

“Don’t. Go. Back. There. Do you hear me? You are not going back to Lunaris.” His grip on their shoulder tightened; it was starting to hurt. The damp fabric of their shirt absorbing the nasty sweat off their shoulder from the pressure. “Wh-what the fuck? Sir what are you-”

“Make sure none of your friends do either. Just listen to me, no ifs, no buts, no nothing.” He let go of them, the cold air cutting through his movements bringing a refreshingly cold bite to their face. “Okay?” 

Dawn couldn’t speak. 

“Okay?” He asked again. Louder, stronger. Dawn nodded, forcing their head to move when their mouth refused to. “Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

Sir looked at them, his eyes creasing, and for a second Dawn swore they caught a flicker of emotion run across his gaze. 

“Good.” That was all he said before he sighed, kicking Dawn’s shovel up into his hands to hand back to them with an unreadable expression on his face. Dawn didn’t even need words to decipher what Sir was asking of them at that moment.

With a tense hand, they grasped the tool with an understanding nod. Going straight to shovelling up the ground as Sir paced back to his side of the field. 

When he was gone Dawn sighed, raking a hand through their hair again. What a shitty start to the week…