Ghostwriter: A Short Story

== Sunday, December 3 ==
They say there’s a first for everything.
Well, they’re wrong. There will never be a first for me being anyone but a bystander. That’s what I thought, anyway.
The day they invited me to the Highlands Academy was one of the most shocking moments of my life. Truthfully. When they called my name, I was stunned. Not because there was no chance of me ever getting picked. Because there was only an itty-bitty chance that I would be the one out of three hundred and twenty-six students to be chosen.
Two days after that thought, here I am, at the train station, waiting in the rain for someone to come pick me up and send me to the academy.
It’s weird, really, standing in the cold to be picked up by a car, when I’m at a train station. I guess it’s a Highlands Academy thing. I mean, if you have cars in the school, why have them just lying around in the parking lot when you could show them off to new students?
But that’s not really a great idea if the drivers aren’t punctual.
According to my watch, my ride is exactly eleven minutes and twenty-three seconds late. And the clock’s always ticking.
Four minutes later, a car grinds to halt in front of me, close enough to my toes to make me take a step back. The car window of the driver’s seat rolls down, and deep voice orders me to “Get in.”
I open the car door, sitting shotgun. “You’re fifteen minutes late,” I inform the driver. He only grunts and starts the car.
It doesn’t take that long to arrive at the Highlands Academy.
It’s a grand sight to behold. The wall surrounds the enormous white buildings are the same color, and so tall they almost completely hide the campus. The acres of land inside the wall are incredibly vast, and here and there rose plants spread their arms wide, an open invitation to come closer and get pricked.
“You can get out now,” Mr. Grouch the Driver says. I realize that we’ve gone inside the wall.
“Geez, unwelcoming much,” I mutter under my breath, opening the door. I step out and walk towards the small building with a sign that says INFORMATION CENTER.
The inside of the one-floor building is as humble as you’d expect. The walls are spotless white, and large windows let in filtered light, casting shaped panes on the clean floor.
The woman behind the counter looks up at me, gives me a one-over and stands up. “Name, please?” She says in a calm, high voice.
“Carolyn Reagan,” I answer.
She writes something down, then nods at me. “Your room number is 201. The girls’ suite, the second building on the right. It has red doors. Here’s your card.” She hands me a small rectangle of plastic with the words 201 engraved in gold letters. “Show this to the guard in front of the building.”
“Thank you,” I say, then turn away and walk out the door.
Looking to my right, I see a tall three-story building with red double doors and a bulky guard stationed in front of it. After showing him my card, I go up to my room on the second floor.
The room is spacious, wider than my quarters back at home. There is a normal bed with plain white sheets. Beside it, on the left, spans a floor-to-ceiling window, and on the right of it stands a tall lamp. There’s a mirror on the opposite wall, with a full-on vanity lined with make-up and beauty accessories that I can neither identify nor will ever use.
Everything is bigger than what we have at home.
Remembering my younger brothers and sisters, I wish now that they could be here with me. This level of luxury would make them squeal in excitement.
I smile.
All the more reason why I should get that scholarship. If I snagged it, then I would be able to support my family. Hopefully, I have a decent chance.
I collapse on the bed. Better rest. The next morning is going to be a long one.
It’s easier said than done though. Because for some reason, I can’t close my eyes for the whole night.
Category:Stories
Category:Short Story