Outcast (Wiltshire University Book 1)

CHAPTER 1

"Huh," I frowned at the barren room, stepping backwards into the hall to double check the number on the door; 612, that's my room number. My dry erase board, blank other than my name, hung below the brass numbers just like when I left for class that morning. The fact that my key opened the door was probably better confirmation that this is, in fact, my room, but the dry erase board just really sold the point home. So where is my stuff? Like any of it? I'd hunt down my roommate to ask for some answers, but that required actually having a roommate.

Unlike my friends from home who were all getting used to sharing tiny spaces and communal bathrooms, I had a room to myself. I'm not special; none of the Wiltshire students have roommates. Wiltshire follows a European model of student housing in which each student gets a private room. I thought the whole private room thing was pretty awesome and just one of the many ways Wiltshire was better than any other college; thought, passed tense, right now I was lamenting the lack of obvious suspects.

Forget Yale or Cambridge, Wiltshire University was where you wanted to be. A degree from Wiltshire was a golden ticket; being a Gryphaera, the mythical offspring of the Chimera and Gryphon that served as the Wiltshire mascot, was a better opportunity maker than anyone you could know or any wheels you could grease. The professors and academic opportunities that gave Wiltshire alumni, that clout didn't come cheap, meaning traditional scholarships didn't put a dent in tuition costs. Thus, a certain type of exclusivity existed among the student body. I am not loaded. Lucky for me an early benefactor of the college created a scholarship to be awarded to one student of each incoming class that would cover all of their expenses in full so long as the student focused on their studies and refrained from employment while classes were in session.

I'd applied to Wiltshire as my not-in-a-million-years long shot after winning one of the lottery spots that waved the application fee. No, the fee wasn't that expensive; at fifty dollars it was actually pretty cheap, but why waste fifty dollars? I felt a little bad taking the spot of someone who actually had a chance at getting in, but the massive what if had me filling out the application anyway. When the thick envelope came with my welcome packet and scholarship information – yes Wiltshire still sent physical acceptance letters, something about tradition, Wiltshire is big on tradition – I thought it was one of those admissions errors. You know, the ones that make the news because the school accidentally sent welcome letters to everyone they rejected, and then are like ooo this is awkward, but yeah, we don't want you, but you know good luck and all. It took a call to the very patient registrar to somewhat convince me I really got in. Truthfully, even after that call and starting class part of me is still waiting for someone to yell "psych!" and reveal I am on some prank show.

Slow burn prank aside, the summer ended, and I officially became a Gryphaera, moving into my private dorm room, attending classes, walking the hallowed grounds. Yes grounds, Wiltshire calls its campus grounds. The quickest way to reveal you aren't really a Gryphaera is to ask where on campus something is. So here I was...on grounds, and...and...I didn't want to complain, this was an opportunity of a lifetime, but so far college wasn't anything like what I expected. To put it nicely, the first couple weeks of school sucked. Not the work, it's challenging, but nothing I couldn't handle, I think. No, the problem was I just didn't seem to fit in here, like at all, and now this.

I gaped at the empty space before me. Maybe there was a problem with my room and maintenance moved everything while I was in class? That's the only logical explanation, right? I twirled a lock of my hair, looking at nothing in particular, while I tried to wrap my head around the situation. I should find Odessa. Odessa will know what's going on. Turning on my heels and banging my backpack against the door frame in the process, I headed back down the hall to Odessa's room.

As R.A.s go, Odessa was nice, although I hadn't had much interaction with her since move in. Odessa's room was the first one at the end of the hallway, her door heavily decorated with pictures, messages, and notices for the girls she oversaw. Lifting my arm, I knocked on the door lightly, careful not to disturb any of the ornamentations. Nothing. I knocked again, loud enough for the sound to echo through the empty hallway. Odessa's door remained shut. Huh. Make that oddity number two for the day. In the weeks since classes started Odessa was always in her room when I got back from class for the day. During my first week at Wiltshire, I would wave to Odessa and say hi. After a week of Odessa never waving back or doing anything to acknowledge my presence, I stopped trying, but I still noticed she was always there, every day, without fail, except today. Figures the one time I actually needed her Odessa wasn't there. I sighed, reading through the notes on her dry erase board for anything that might indicate when she'd be back. No luck.

Retreating back to my vacant room I continued to rack my brain for answers. Entire rooms of stuff don't just up and disappear. I had to be missing something. Think Cali...E-mail! Maybe the school sent an e-mail explaining everything? Slipping my right arm out of my backpack's strap I swung the bag around. Of course, they would email me. I can't believe I wasted all this time wandering around looking for answers. Tugging at the blue Jansport's front pocket zipper I dug around, stabbing myself with several pens before finding my phone. Gotcha. Waiting the unbearable seconds for my inbox to launch the flashing red low battery light caught my eye. Awesome. I'd need to charge my phone soon. No big deal except for, you know, my charger was missing along with everything else. Quickly scanning through my inbox and junk mail folders my heart dropped; there wasn't anything from the school. What the hell? Brows furrowed in frustration, I dropped the phone back into my bag's front pocket, settling the bag back onto my back.

What now? I could hang out and get some homework done, but what if I'm not supposed to be in the room for some reason? Like the room is full of toxic mold and I'll die if I stay, or they realized I was selected for the scholarship in error, and I'm being evicted immediately. Winning the Atherton Scholarship was a huge coo for me, something I still couldn't believe actually happened. Every day since receiving the award letter I expected a call telling me there'd been some mistake. I thought starting classes would abate that fear, it didn't.

Ok, I probably wasn't being kicked out of Wiltshire, that would definitely come with some sort of in person notice. The toxic mold thing may be a little far-fetched too, I mean, there would probably be some sort of caution tape if there was some sort of danger; schools are big on preventing liability. But my room was totally empty, I didn't have any sort of notice, and Odessa was M.I.A., so now what? Camping out in front of Odessa's door was an option, that way I'd be sure to catch her, but who knew how long that could take, and the dorm hallway floor wasn't exactly the most inviting place to spend a few hours.

Waiting in the common areas was probably my best option. The chairs were comfortable, there were tables to work at, and there was always the chance that one of the other girls on the hall knew something that could clear some things up while I waited for Odessa. Speaking of my hallmates, I'd never seen the dorm so quiet. Come to think of it, I hadn't seen or heard a single person since walking into the building. Maybe I did miss a caution black plague notice on the front of the building. Retracing my steps back down the six flights of stairs to the main doors I scoured the entry for some sort of sign warning students to stay out. Again, nothing looked any different than it did this morning. I stared blankly at the facade of the building at a loss of what to do next.

The straps of my bag digging into my shoulders drew me out of my daze. Stupid bag. Why did it seem to be increasing in weight by the second? I sighed. Might as well go back to my room; at least there I can set my bag down. Who knows, maybe I missed a note or some sort of notification. Crossing my fingers, I climbed back up to the sixth floor. Really it was like twelve flights of stairs to get to the sixth floor. They were the long flights where you had a full flight then a landing then another flight before you reach the door for the next level due to the high ceilings from before air conditioning was a thing and summer heat had to go somewhere. I glanced up at another ridiculously long stretch. Maybe if I could figure out a way to cross my toes while I walked everything would magically be back in my room when I got there. I scoffed at my own wishful thinking and climbed on. I was slightly sweaty and breathing harder that I would like to admit when I finally made it back to my room. Ok, so I didn't figure out how to walk with my toes crossed, but when I open my door this time everything is going to be exactly as I left it this morning. Slipping my key back into the lock, I turned the knob allowing the door to swing open.

🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾 To be continued 🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾🐾