"What are you even going to do with a major in Philosophy?" Noah questioned, adjusting his hold on the box in his hands. "Like, the psychology's cool. But philosophy? Useless."

Sighing heavily, I lead the way to my dorm. Being our second trip, it was fairly easy to find it. "It's not useless. I'm going to major in psychology, with a minor in philosophy," I replied, shortly.

Noah's eyebrows popped in a gesture as he quickened his pace to reach my side, "Yeah, but why? What are you gonna do with all that knowledge?"

"I'm going to use it to pick you apart until you run home from USD crying."

"That's a whole other year away, Gray."

"You know, Belgrave has some pretty decent pre-law programs," I said, upon reaching the dorm room door. I shifted the box I carried to my left side in order to reach out and push open the door. Letting it swing open, I carried the box inside.

Noah followed in shortly after me. Exhaling audibly, he responded, "I know from the eight hundred other times you've mentioned it since we got here."

I dropped my box on the floor by my bed and stood straight with a sigh. It was no secret I wanted to keep him close. Wanted to convince him he'd find a better offer here. I had a year to complete my mission, but it felt like I was already running out of time.

My window was closing and, if I didn't act fast, he'd be on the other side of the country for the next four years. Considering he's pursuing law, probably a lot longer. "Sorry," I turned to face him, my features portraying my guilt. "I just...San Diego is so far away, you know?"

"Yeah, that's exactly why I'm going," he chuckled, as though it were already obvious.

And, maybe, in some ways it was. It was too soon. I thought he would see it the same way, that he would want more time with the family. It felt like we'd just found each other and now...now all of us were heading in different directions.

It was bittersweet to think about, to say the least. But, on another level, I understood him. With all things considered, it would be surprising he hadn't made moves to get out sooner—as an outsider looking in. "Yeah...I know," I replied, in a small voice.

Just then my roommate, Chelsea, rapped her knuckles on the door frame before stepping into the room. "Hey, sorry if i'm interrupting something, but the tour starts in, like, five minutes," she pointed out. It drew my attention to something i'd completely forgotten.

"Shit, right...the tour," I nodded quickly, before scrambling for my lanyard. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

I snatched it off the bed, pulling it over my head as I turned to face Noah once more. He smiled in understanding, lips pulled tight, and said, "I'll get outta here and let you do your thing. You're coming to dinner this time, though, right?"

"Unfortunately. If I miss another one, mom will literally strangle me," I chuckled a little, trying to keep my spirits up.

Noah stepped forward and I knew what he was going to do. I met him halfway, wrapping my arms around him in a hug. "I'm so proud of you, sis," he spoke quietly, hugging me a little tighter. "Kick some college ass, alright?"

We parted with a mutual laugh. But then I had to get going or I would miss the tour. So we said goodbye and Chelsea and I headed for the start of the tour. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt about her yet, but I didn't get any bad vibes.

So, at least there was that. A few other students had gathered and were waiting for the tour when we got to the statue out front. This is why I needed the tour. I had no fucking idea what or where anything was. Already, I am a train wreck.

You're being a stupid bitch, I thought. It's not pretty. Stop it.

Sighing, I slid my hands into the front pocket of my sweatshirt. It was a little chillier than I thought it would be when I got dressed this morning. It seemed like an average day on campus, with a glance around at the surroundings.

But I didn't pay much attention to what was right in front of me until some guy shoved another one, raising his voice, saying, "You ask too many fucking questions!"

"I don't want any trouble, okay?" the other guy said, holding up his hands in surrender.

The first guy chuckled once, glancing back at someone who was obviously his friend, "Too late."

His words were barely audible before he took a swing. The other guy easily dipped out of the way, missing it. My eyes were glued on the two in disbelief, but Chelsea rolled her eyes with a grunt. "Seriously?" she grumbled, crossing her arms. "Do they have to use the measuring tape in front of everybody?"

"I'm not sure they need much of it," I commented, shrugging one shoulder.

She snickered, "An inch. Maybe."

"That's a very generous estimate."

Suddenly, Chelsea turned her upper body to look at me with a wide smile-smirk. I looked up at her reactionarily, seeing the movement in my peripheral. But I raised an eyebrow at the expression on her face. "What?" I questioned.

"I think I'm gonna like you," she bobbed her head in a series of nods.

A hard thud pulled my eyes back to the fight in front of us. The first guy's friend tried to come to his aid when he was brutally slammed on the ground by the other guy, but the other guy held up a finger, "You do not wanna be second in."

"I love the smell of testosterone in the morning," a blonde woman said, stepping up to the scene. "Smells like...stupidity."

She looked very official—most likely our tour guide. The boys involved in the fighting quickly disbanded. "It's just a misunderstanding," the other guy said, as he helped up the guy he'd pinned. "For which I apologize. We good?"

He held out his hand, but the first guy simply smacked the hand out of the way and walked off, his friend trailing quickly behind him. "They say college is where you meet your true friends, I guess it's also where you meet your best enemies," the blonde said.

"Sorry about that. I'm Jack," the guy said, looking only at her.

She leaned in a bit with a chuckle, "Hi, Jack. I'm just trying to give the tour, so..."

He glanced around a second before nodding, and he backed up to join the rest of us freshmen waiting for the goddamn tour. "Okay, well. Welcome, everyone, and congratulations on your acceptance to Belgrave University. I'm Alyssa Drake and I'll be your tour guide today," the blonde said.

Finally, the tour was going to start. She looked down at her clipboard a second before continuing, "Sitting on over five-hundred acres of land, Belgrave University is considered by many to be a city within a city. It's hard to believe that, at one time, the University consisted of a single building, and this whole area was farmland—providing vegetables for the school's cafeteria."

Jack, the fighting idiot, held up his hand. Alyssa chuckled in a sarcastically hopeless tone. "Look at that, we have a question," she glanced at her clipboard. Then, much quietly, she said, "Already."

"I thought they didn't have a garden until the second world war," Jack said.

Great. One of those. I refrained from rolling my eyes as Alyssa again checked her clipboard. She furrowed her brow, but looked up as she replied, "You are correct. It was a victory garden, attended by the agricultural students."

"And before that, it was a forest, wasn't it?" Jack asked, a bit rhetorical in nature.

"Would you like to guide this tour?" Alyssa questioned, sarcastically.

He shrugged, glancing around at the immediate students nearby. "Sure," he nodded. That was when I rolled my eyes. But I told myself I'd play along, see where this all went. It wasn't like I had much else to do on my first day.

I mean, I had one class. One whole class. And it wasn't until the afternoon anyway. Jack stepped up beside Alyssa, visibly preparing his thoughts, and I braced myself—readjusting my hands inside my sweatshirt's pouch.

"Ethan Belgrave. The university's namesake and benefactor," he spoke up suddenly, thrusting a finger in the statue's direction. "Made his fortune by being a profiteer in the Continental Navy, which makes this the only University ever to be founded by a pirate."

There was a sporadic outbreak of small chuckles throughout the group, and I'll admit I did crack a bit of a smile at his delivery. He lead the group around campus, by Belgrave Hall and then to the Library, where Alyssa took the lead again.

"Okay. The McGrath Reference Library is home to the world's largest collection of anthropodermic bibliopegy—books bound in human flesh," Alyssa said, as we stood in front of the large library building.

It was a beautiful campus. That at least made up for a small part of me actually being here. Alyssa scanned her clipboard, looking for the next part of the script. But she took a little too long. Jack spoke up, "Also it is believed to be the home of Belgrave's own secret society, the Hermetic Order of The Blue Rose."

A legitimate shiver ran down my spine at the mention. Though, outwardly, I only titled my head—squinting against the bright light of the morning sun. Of course there were conspiracies. We'd all heard them, laughed at them, many times.

But such a bold pronouncement? In a severely public place? Maybe this idiot had more balls than I'd given him credit for. And, not so surprisingly, he didn't stop there. He continued, "Some say there's a temple hidden in the basement. Past members include presidents, captains of industry, and more than one celebrity."

My mouth felt a little dry, and my eyes shifted around to gauge the crowd's reaction. They all seemed to take it as just some stupid factoid. I felt a bit of relief. Though, I couldn't help the bout of anxious bumps on my clothed arms as we continued the tour.

I began the line of questioning all over again—questions i'd settled and buried months ago in preparation for this very moment. The moment I walk on campus to stay. A scholarship to Belgrave was no easy feat, I knew that.

After all, mom wouldn't let me forget it. But was this really where I should be? I had no plans of joining The Order, regardless of receiving that elusive blue rose. I didn't want to join anything. I just wanted to enjoy my time here.

Maybe I could feel like a normal person my age for once? Maybe. For now, I had to fight to get through the orientation. Then I could go to my only class for the day and feel like a college student. The campus was quite large, so the tour lasted a while.

But, finally, it came to a close once we'd reached the Belgrave statue. As the final words were being said, Chelsea threw her arms around my shoulders, pinning me to her side in an unexpected gesture. "Hey, wanna go to a really cool party tonight?" she questioned, wiggling her brows.

"Uh..." I thought about it for only a second. That was all I needed to force myself into the college experience. After all, that's what I wanted. Right? "Sure, sounds fun. Where is it?"

"The Sigma Sigma Delta house. Honestly, i'm inviting you because I need a wingman. There's this guy, Dale, and he's so fuckable—like, really fuckable-"

I nodded quickly, pulling away from her with an awkward chuckle, "Okay, got it. I'll be your...wingman."

"Great! Thanks so much. I have class, but I'll see you later?" she said, already beginning to walk away.

"Yeah, see you later," I held up one thumb in a gesture, before stuffing my hand quickly back into my sweatshirt pouch. Chelsea smiled and turned away, speeding up in her journey away from me. Exhaling deeply, I turned to head back to my dorm.

Using on-campus housing was a requirement for the scholarship. Otherwise, I would still be occupying my room at home. But, of course, it was good to branch out and put myself into unfamiliar situations. Right? Right. I needed to be my own person.

I just had to figure out how to do that while living someone else's life. It was hard not to tell my mother that Belgrave wasn't my first choice of school. It wasn't my first, my second, or my third. Originally, I'd wanted to stay as far away from this place as possible.

Then mom would go on about how exciting it was to see me become a third-generation Belgrave alumni, how proud it made her and my grandmother. Suddenly it was a lot more difficult to choose at all. Mostly because I knew the choice had already been made.

Yes, I was stupid enough to go along with it. But what was four years? I could go to this God forsaken University, put in my time and graduate, and then live the rest of my life however I pleased. It's a win-win. That way I don't have to break my mom's heart.

Who knows, I might just have fun here?

I made it back to my dorm and had a bit of time to unpack some things before I needed to find my way to class. The first and only class of the day was my first Psych 101 class. I'd heard great things about Professor Mirage, so I was actually looking forward to the class.

Chelsea and I walked to the Sigma Sigma Delta house. The booming music could be heard from at least a couple blocks away. Parties weren't really my scene in high school, but I was keeping an open mind. After all, I wasn't there for anything other than fun.

If I wasn't having fun, I could go to my dorm and crash for the night at any time. I wasn't exactly prepared for a party with what I packed so I settled on something a little over-done but still classic—a white skater dress with a leather jacket.

Simple, easy, comfortable. We were greeted at the door by tall, broad-shouldered frat boys, and a pang of regret hit my chest. But I forced on a smile and continued into the house with Chelsea. Everywhere you looked were drunk, or almost drunk, party-goers.

The music was loud in the front area of the house but it died out just enough as Chelsea pulled me into the kitchen. "Wanna drink?" she asked, working quickly to pour herself a beer.

"Uh...sure," I nodded a little.

I stepped up beside her at the kitchen island, where every kind of alcohol imaginable covered the counter surface. Chelsea poured a second drink and then handed me a red cup. It was almost laughable. The thought of me at a party.

Seconds after she gave me the cup, a handful of girls she obviously knew came teetering into the kitchen, and Chelsea lit up. "Hey! I didn't know you guys were coming!" she shouted over the music, turning to face them all.

They started talking, and I slipped away toward the back porch. The sliding glass door was left open and a few party-goers were out on the porch, drinking and talking and smoking. I never liked the smell of cigarette smoke but it was more palatable than the smells inside.

I found a vacant spot out back—a plastic lawn chair—and sat there for a while, sipping on my drink. Alcohol was never really my thing either, but it was more me than this party.

Give it a chance, I thought. Maybe if you actually tried to participate, it wouldn't be so bad?

I had a point. Then again, my subconscious usually did. It was common sense. Sighing, I pushed myself up off the chair, stepping out of my safe zone, and made my way back into the kitchen. Chelsea was no longer there.

With a quick glance around, I spotted her in the living room, dancing with a couple of the guys. I leaned my butt back into the side of the island with an exhale. Random guests filtered in and out of the kitchen but none of them seemed interested in conversation.

Of course, that could just be me. The kitchen looked as close as I wanted to get. But that was okay, wasn't it? It was my first party. I didn't have to do everything all at once. There were four years at this place I would be able to go to parties in. No rush.

So I stood there, hanging out in the kitchen by myself. At least I had immediate access to the drinks. I could refill my cup without ever leaving my spot. Maybe this party was fun after all? Chelsea stumbled into the kitchen in a fit of laughter after a while.

"Heeeey!" she lit up seeing me. "Where have you been? Are you having fun?"

"I'm just not really feeling it tonight," I replied, scrunching up my nose in an expression.

"Shit, i'm sorry. Hey- maybe we can try again this weekend? I know a house that throws total ragers on the weekends, you literally have no choice but to have fun," Chelsea said, leaning into the island with her palm on the counter top.

I nodded, "Yeah, sure. I'll try it."

"Great! Now go back to the dorm, get some sleep," she said, before pouring more alcohol into her cup. "I'll see you in the morning—I think I have a lecture at eight or something...fuck it, too late now"

My eyebrows instinctively furrowed as my eyes followed her from the island to the living room. She teetered a bit, but she still looked like she had some of her wits, guzzling her drink as she walked. I shook my head with a sigh and headed for the door. That was the last time I saw Chelsea.

The party was a bust. But I did have hope it would be better this weekend. Maybe I would loosen up by then? Maybe I wouldn't be too stressed and nervous to have fun because I will have settled into college life? It was possible. Maybe.

I left the frat house and started the walk back to my dorm. It wasn't a long walk—maybe fifteen or twenty minutes. I wasn't really counting but there was no reason to. At least, that's what I thought was certain. Until I made it back to my dorm and crashed on my bed for the night.

There were no sheets on the mattress yet, but I didn't care. I was tired from walking and a little tipsy from drinking and I just wanted to pass out. So I did. I woke up to the obnoxious sound of banging on my door.

With a minor headache, I was irritated by the interruption. But it was a timely one, considering it was only a few minutes before the alarm on my phone was due to wail. I pushed myself up from the bed, still dressed in my clothes from the party, and shuffled to the door.

"Alright! Alright, i'm coming," I grumbled, frustrated, at the closed door.

Pulling it open revealed Chancellor Stone, a Police officer just beside her. My eyebrows immediately knitted in confusion. "Are you Grasyn Carpenter?" Chancellor Stone questioned, calmly.

A little perplexed, I nodded. That was when my eyes caught movement. My gaze flitted away, to the left, to the right—to the few people in the hall passing by or entering their rooms. They were all looking at me. "Yeah...that's me," I replied, glancing quickly between the people staring.

"Would you mind letting us in? Detective Hayashi has some questions for you regarding your roommate, Chelsea Black," Chancellor Stone asked, not really a question.

Instinctively, I muttered something like 'of course' and moved to let them in, but my head turned, and my eyes went straight to Chelsea's untouched bed. I hadn't noticed it until she said her name. The Chancellor and Detective Hayashi—that was his name right?—stepped inside, and I closed the door behind them.

Detective Hayashi wasted no time in asking, "When was the last time you saw Chelsea?"

Taking slow steps, I moved to the bed, and lowered myself to sit while I answered. "Last night. We went to a party together, I wasn't into it, she told me to go home..." I said, digging into my memory of the night before. Then, I looked up at the Detective seriously, "Did something happen to her? Is she alright?"

"We found her body. We have reason to believe she was murdered sometime earlier this morning," Hayashi answered. He was gentle in his delivery, but no amount of gentle tones could possibly make the news any better.

For a moment, I didn't know what to think. I just sat there, staring at the man, looking like a dumbass. "Why did you leave Chelsea at the party?" Chancellor Stone inquired.

Blinking hard once or twice, I replied, "I- I- she told me to...she looked fine, she was having fun. She's dead?"

"I'm afraid so," Detective Hayashi nodded once. "Miss Carpenter, did you see anyone odd or suspicious talking to Chelsea last night? Did anyone or anything seem a little off to you? Anything at all?"

I slowly shook my head, but my mind wasn't all there. No, I hadn't seen anything weird. I hadn't seen anything but a girl enjoying her youth at a party. "Did she mention any arguments, disagreements, bad blood with anyone?" he questioned.

Again, I shook my head, "No, I- honestly, I barely knew her."

"Well, if you think of something else...here's my card. Give me a call," Detective Hayashi said.

He'd dug into his coat pocket and held out a business card. Absentmindedly, I took it. That was what you do in that situation and my brain was working on auto pilot. Obviously, I was in shock. At the time I didn't really think of that, though.

Detective Hayashi and Chancellor Stone left soon after that. As soon as they were gone, I got up, and I went to Chelsea's side of the room. Her bed was made—with a coral bedspread and matching pillows. One pillow had a gold, silk pillowcase.

I don't why, but I took it. Just the case. Maybe it was my mind's way of saying, 'you'll need this to remember her later'? But I barely knew her. Either way, I took it, and put it on the only pillow I brought with me. Then, I went to her dresser.

My hands worked quickly to open the drawers and rummage through, but I had no idea what I was looking for. Not until I found it. I pulled open the third drawer in the dresser and every muscle in my body pulled tight.

A blue rose.

It was the only thing in the drawer—other than a small card telling Chelsea she'd been selected. "No, no, no, no, no..." I started mumbling, and I shut the drawer as quickly as possible. My feet shuffled backward. Then I started to pace.

What was going on? The Order didn't kill pledges. That wasn't their thing. Wiping memories was their thing. So, logically, someone else was responsible for her death. Right?

It answered a question for me, though. Why didn't I get tapped to join? Because Chelsea already was. Because they had enough people, obviously. I didn't make the cut, and that was fine, but Chelsea did—and now she was dead.

Something didn't add up here, but I didn't know what. It just felt wrong. So, quickly, I got dressed. Dark jeans, my Belgrave sweatshirt, and the easiest pair of shoes to put on at the time—tennis shoes. I took the rose and the card and stuffed them in my bag.

If there was a chance The Order was responsible for Chelsea's death in any capacity, I needed to know. I pulled my bag strap on my shoulder and left the dorm. My fingers tied my hair up in a messy but manageable pony tail as I walked quickly.

Still, everyone around in the hall stared. What was there to look at? What was so worth wasting their time? It was so goddamn aggravating. "What? You want an autograph?" I raised my voice to be heard, glancing at those staring as I walked. "Get a fucking life."

With a toss of my eyes, I kept moving.

This kind of shit is exactly why I didn't want to come to this place. I didn't want to be involved with magical bullshit. Yet, there I was, on a mission to find out if my almost-friend was murdered by a secret society of sorcerers. I mean, what the actual fuck?

Out of context, that sounds so weird. Just lock me up already. Please. I made it out of the dormitory. As I was passing the Belgrave statue, I noticed Detective Hayashi talking with another student. He gave him a card, putting it in the guy's pocket, before heading to his cruiser.

From the back, then a little more from the side, I recognized the student. I started walking toward him without a second thought. "Hey! Excuse me?" I shouted, as I got closer. A little confused, he twisted to look behind him. "It's Jack, right?"

"Um...yeah. And you are?" he asked, turning around to face me fully.

I came to stand just a foot from him, and I held out my hand, "Gray. You mentioned a secret society on campus, something about a blue rose?"

Jack shook my hand without hesitation. Though, the shake slowed to a stand still as an eyebrow rose higher on his forehead, a quizzical look coming over him. "Yeah, I did," he said, looking a little clueless.

"Is this one of theirs?" I dug into my bag and pulled out the blue rose and card. The second it was in view, a look of surprise touched his features.

"Whoa, wait—you're a pledge, too?"

"No...my roommate is. Was. She was murdered last night, you might have heard?"

He nodded once, slowly, "Yeah, I heard. I'm really sorry. I don't understand what that has to do with pledging to a secret society, though."

"You're obviously a pledge. Did you see her last night? Did they make her do something that got her hurt?" I questioned him, after zipping the rose and card away in my bag.

Jack inhaled deeply, and his gaze moved to somewhere off to his right. Obviously thinking hard about what he wanted to tell me. My eyes stayed on him, providing pressure, until he answered. Finally, he turned his attention back to me.

"Look, I didn't see your roommate last night. Another pledge was murdered this morning out on a trail. It's starting to look like a new trend," he said.

"Wait, you think they're connected? How?"

He shrugged, "I don't know. But I'm gonna figure it out."

"Let me help you—we can figure it out together."

"Sorry, I'm kind of on a solo mission. It's easier that way. If I find out who killed your roommate, i'll tell you, I promise. I gotta go," Jack said. He patted my shoulder once before walking around me, stepping onto the main walkway from the grass.

My shoulders dropped as I deflated with an exhale. That didn't go as planned. But that didn't mean I had to stop, and I wouldn't—not until I found out the truth. Chelsea deserved that much. I didn't know her well, but she seemed like a good person.

Maybe she and I would've been friends? Now I'll never know. Those Order assholes took that from me. They took a lot more from Chelsea. If I wanted quick and easy answers, all I would have to do is make one simple phone call. But I couldn't.

No one in my family needed to be dragged into this, and that's exactly what would happen. Especially if I fuck this up. So I can't fuck it up. To solve this mystery I needed to retrace Chelsea's steps, starting at the party, and work my way up.

Surely someone at the Sigma Sigma house had seen her after I left. Didn't she mention wanting to shag some guy? What was his name? "Dale," I whispered to myself, as the thought rocketed through my brain. Dale should have some answers.

I rotated on my heels and began walking in the direction of the Sigma Sigma Delta house. It wasn't too far to walk, and the fresh air allowed me to compose myself enough to talk to some hungover frat guys. Which is exactly what I was about to do.

Walking up to the door, the front yard was a bit of a mess from the night before. I sighed, seeing the front door hung open, and took steps inside. "Hello? Can someone point me to Dale?" I called out, glancing into the living room and kitchen as I walked.

A frat guy appeared from the staircase just to my right. He groggily took the steps, a palm pressed to his eye. "What do you want with Dale?" the guy asked, as he reached the bottom. "Did he do something stupid?"

"Uh...well, I don't know. Me and my roommate were at the party last night, we got split up. She mentioned maybe hanging out with him? I just want to know she's okay," I replied, putting on my best worried expression. He bought right into it.

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'll grab him for you."

I nodded in return, feigning relief, "Thank you so much."

The guy sauntered off into the living room and I took a deep breath, readjusting the bag strap on my shoulder. It only took a minute for Dale to come out. He shuffled to the staircase where I waited. "Hey, Brett said you needed something?" he said, a bit curious.

"Yeah, I was wondering if you saw my friend, Chelsea, last night?" I inquired, playing it calmly. "A little taller than me, dark hair, really tan? She was drinking a lot?"

A smile began to spread across his lips as he visibly remembered the night before. He nodded, pointing a finger at me in a gesture. "Yeah, yeah. I remember her," he answered.

"Great. Did she spend the night here? Did she walk home?"

"Nah, she didn't stay here. We were gonna go up to my room but some of the guys were being assholes, so she said she was going home. Last I saw her, she was walking out that door."

"You just let her leave? Didn't offer to walk her back?" I questioned, squinting one eye in my irritation.

"Hey, look, it was really late and I was totally shitfaced-"

I sighed heavily, "Do you remember what time she left here?"

"Uh..." he tipped his head back in thought for a moment. Then, he looked back at me, shaking his head, "I don't know, maybe somewhere around three? I'm not sure."

"Wonderful—thanks."

I stepped around him and headed for the door. If Chelsea left around three, and was killed sometime early in the morning like Detective Hayashi said, that would make sense. Except it didn't take hours to get home. Unless being drunk slowed her down?

Of course, being attacked by someone would definitely slow her down. I hurried down the front steps of the Sigma Sigma house and started the walk back to the dormitory—Townsend House.

I tried to think of the most logical route she would've taken—being drunk—and timed my walk. It still didn't add up. There was too much time missing. I dropped onto one of the stone benches in front of the library with a deep exhale.

This was pointless. The only way to get the facts would be to go to The Order. Problem is, I don't know shit about how The Order operates on this campus. I don't know where anything is. The one person who isn't family that might know, won't help me.

I dug a hand into my pocket and unearthed my cell phone. I didn't dial. My thumb simply hovered over the dial pad, daring myself to hold down the two. It was only day two. Was I really willing to give in so soon?

If it meant getting answers? It felt like I might be. Until a male voice startled me from my thoughts. "Don't you have a humanities class in, like, fifteen minutes?" I twisted quickly in my startle, looking for the voice's owner. Who else could I have found but Jack. "That's all the way across campus."

Relaxing, I rolled my eyes, "Do I even wanna know how the fuck you know that?"

"Probably not. Seriously though, you're gonna be late."

I stood up from my seat and turned to face him simultaneously, causing him to take a step back in surprise. "So, what, i'm just supposed to go to school like nothing ever happened?" I spat the question at him, angered. "A girl is dead! My roommate."

"Okay, okay. I know it's difficult. But you gotta give me more time. I'm going to find out who's doing this-"

My mouth started moving instinctively, "Why are you so hellbent on going lone wolf? If we work together, both of us can get the answers we're looking for."

Jack eyed me in indecision, sighing. "God, fine," he finally said, giving in. "But I'm in charge of this investigation, okay? You find out anything, you let me know."

"Okay," I nodded quickly.

"Cool, now, get to class, alright?"

"Shit, class-"

I interrupted myself, spinning quickly on my heel to grab my bag off the bench. I started sprinting and I didn't stop. In order to make this arrangement work, I needed to actually be able to graduate. That would require showing up to classes and doing the work.

The Order could wait for an hour or two, right? Right. I'd never run so fast in my life. And that's saying something, considering a huge part of my scholarship is credited to the track and field achievements on my record.

My chest was heaving when I reached the humanities building. Then it was through the door and up a flight of stairs. I checked my phone's clock in nervous anticipation as I walked. Sure enough, I only had a handful of minutes before the class was scheduled.

A heavy, groan-like huff of air came out of my mouth. This happened to me all throughout high school. There was so much pressure from teachers and family to do well that I nearly had an anxiety attack every time I was almost late for class.

Toward graduation, it wasn't as much of an ordeal. I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself from the anxiety and the running as I speed-walked down the hall. My eyes scanned door labels, looking for the right class. This was supposedly the right building.

I knew that for sure. But the right classroom was uncertain. Halfway down the hall was, finally, a philosophy classroom. It was the Professor listed on my class schedule, so I pulled open the door. The class looked to be fairly small.

Inside the room, tables made an open square in front of the Professor's desk. Opening the door alerted the other students already seated to my last minute entrance. Every pair of eyes in the room at least glanced at me.

Let's just say that didn't help my late-to-class anxiety. Though, that wasn't the worst. I could've made it with just stares from the students. Fuck them. But the sudden entrance also drew the attention of the Professor.

It wasn't at all an unreasonable reaction. That wasn't the problem. The problem? There was no way this guy was a Professor—not with a face like that. "Can I help you?" he suddenly asked, looking directly at me from where he stood behind his desk.

Hanging on the door just a bit, I replied hesitantly, "Uh...i'm sorry- is this philosophy?"

"It is," he answered, with a small nod and pleasant smile.

I held up a thumb in a gesture, nodding once, and slipped into the classroom. Immediately turning left, I followed the wall around the tables to the very back. Thankfully there was an open seat near center at the back table.

Just sit in the back, I thought, and don't make a complete fool of yourself.

Once I was sitting down securely in a chair, I opened my bag and pulled out a notebook, along with a pencil and a pen. I hung my bag from the chair and placed my supplies on the table top in front of me.

The plan was to get through this class—by some miracle—without issue and get back to investigating The Order's involvement, if any, in Chelsea's death. "Welcome to philosophy, my name is Hamish Duke," the Professor spoke then, drawing my attention from my notebook. "This semester, we will be discussing David Hume. Are any of you familiar with his work?"

He wrote the philosopher's name on the blackboard, underlining each word, before turning to face the classroom again. A bubble of anxiety crept up in my throat as my hand felt the urge to rise. Yes, I was familiar. Did I really want to put myself in the spotlight, though?

The spotlight where I could be further scrutinized by the uncannily blue eyes of my Professor? A small part of me thought, at the last second, fuck it. And that was the part I listened to, instinctively. My hand rose to just above my shoulder level.

A quick swipe of my gaze revealed I was the only one raising my hand. Immediately, Professor Dreamy looked to me, eyes flitting from my hand to my face. He looked pleasantly surprised. "What was something in his works that stuck out to you?" he inquired, stepping out in front of the desk.

Lowering my hand back to the table, I inhaled, "Modesty may be understood in different senses, even abstracted from chastity, which has been already treated of. It sometimes means that tenderness and nicety of honor, that apprehension of blame, that dread of intrusion or injury towards others, that Pudor, which is the proper guardian of every kind of virtue, and a sure preservative against vice and corruption. But its most usual meaning is when it is opposed to impudence and arrogance, and expresses a diffidence of our own judgment, and a due attention and regard for others."

"Ah, An Enquiry Into The Principles of Morals. Not bad," Professor Duke turned and walked back to the blackboard, writing the title with the chalk. "We'll be delving into the book later in the semester."

I did shrink into my seat a little, but I was proud of myself. Proud for speaking up. For not letting high school me dictate college me. I would use this time to prove to myself that I could function as a member of society.

That is, if I can make it through this class.