What if, what if we run away
What if, what if we left today
What if we said goodbye to safe and sound
What if, what if we're hard to find
What if, what if we lost our minds
What if we let them fall behind, and they're never found?
"Youth," Troye Sivan
"Luke, really, you know you have to do it. You owe it to Obi-Wan," presses Ben's mother.
Ben scowls as he scrolls blindly through Reddit and listens to his mother kvetch to his uncle about whatever it is she wants him to do now. Instead of spending any last moments with her son, she prefers to argue with her brother. Typical.
"Have you seen this girl's file?" Uncle Luke demands. "There is absolutely nothing to suggest she would succeed at Jedi Academy. She'd have to play catch-up with our curriculum."
"Her grades are excellent, Luke," Mom persists. "And it looks like she's had a lot of hardship. It would break Obi-Wan's heart, and you know it would. He would want her to attend the school he founded."
Ben's ears perk up. Supposedly he's named after Obi-Wan Kenobi, who went by Ben at one point. Why the man would trade a cool name for an ordinary one like Ben, he can't say. And Ben's been thinking of changing his name too. When he graduates in nine months.
"Snoke isn't going to like us allotting more scholarships when school starts in just a week," Uncle Luke warns. "We already added one senior with a troubled record. I had to battle for that kid. Snoke will be furious if we add a second. Plus she'll have to get a visa, and flights…"
God, Uncle Luke's not usually such a cheapskate. Just goes to show that Principal Snoke is right, Ben thinks. His uncle is a hypocrite.
"I was a diplomat, Luke," Mom points out, pulling out her trump card. "I have connections. Getting the girl a visa should be no problem."
Bam. His mother always wins. Except when it comes to her reputation. Ben scowls as he thinks about his father, and how he loathes the man.
He's always held you back…
"Fine." Uncle Luke sighs. "I'll contact them and arrange for the girl to come. She'll have to go into Jakku for a dorm, though. I know it's the worst one we have, but it's the only one where there's still space."
"Somehow I think Jakku might be a palace to her," Mom comments.
Tuning them out, Ben clicks open another screen on his laptop and studies the application form. For colleges. For freedom, a place he can go where no one will know who he is, who his parents are, where he can make a name for himself.
"I'll get you in," Principal Snoke assured him.
Mr. Snoke's never let Ben down, because Ben's never let him down. Just one more year. His chest tightens, throbbing as he clenches his fists. It's fine. It's fine. It's fine.
"Hey, baby," Mom says, emerging from the kitchen where she's been arguing with her twin. "Time for me to go."
Go, then, Ben thinks as he lifts his head and nods. It's not as if she'll have a spare moment to miss him.
Mom arches her brow. "Can I get a goodbye hug?"
At least she tries. Ben shrugs. Dad didn't even bother to come home to say goodbye. A "good luck" text doesn't count.
She sighs and comes over to him, wrapping her arms around him. Stiff, he counts the seconds until she pulls away.
Ben wonders yet again if his father knows. If he suspects. And if he does, maybe he just hasn't confronted his son because he's written Ben off as a lost cause. Just like everyone else has, except for Mr. Snoke. Ben lowers his head.
"Enjoy your last year," Mom tells him, hands reaching up to cup his chin.
Guilt squirms in his stomach. "I won't."
She rolls her eyes. "Really, Ben? Don't pull this now."
Of course not now, when you're busy trying to leave. "Don't pull what?"
Mom opens her mouth and then closes it. "Please remember to call, or I'll have to make Luke force you again."
Why can't you call me? Not that he would answer. "I'll try."
The door thuds behind her. Uncle Luke doesn't emerge from his office.
"So, Finn," says the principal of his new school, slapping his file down on the mahogany desk. "Welcome to Jedi Academy."
Finn nods and smiles. A fresh start. He's determined not to blow it. "Thank you."
The older man, face entrapped in a spider web of wrinkles, leans across his desk. "I will warn you," he drawls. "That you are, of course, on probation."
His smile vanishes. If cold burns, it's burning in Finn's abdomen. "Yes, sir. I understand."
"The only reason we agreed to give you the scholarship is, of course, because of your exceptional record otherwise." Principal Snoke wrinkles his nose as if Finn disgusts him. "It's quite impressive that many of your teachers at your old school are willing to vouch for you in spite of what you did."
Finn has no idea how to respond to that. Thank him? Praise his overly kind teachers? Tell Mr. Snoke the truth, which he would never believe and which would probably just convince Snoke that Finn's even more of a liar than he is?
"And, of course, we have the fact that your guardian, Mr. Calrissian, is a good friend of our dean's. But rest assured that if we hear of any funny business, or if you don't regularly attend your counseling appointments with our counselor, we will not hesitate to expel you."
"I won't cause problems," Finn promises. He never has.
"Hm." Mr. Snoke leans back in his chair, eyes traveling up and down Finn. "We shall see." He waves his hand. "You should go meet with Dean Skywalker now. He'll show you to your dorm."
Finn stands. "Thank you, sir."
"So polite," Mr. Snoke comments, voice bitter as if he thinks Finn is mocking him. What, does he want me to be rude instead?
Finn exits the office, standing on the stone steps that lead out into the sun. Jedi Academy is spread out over a hilltop, stone buildings scattered among green grass and lots of stairways carved into the slopes, all safely encased within a stone wall. Which way is the Dean's office?
"Finn?" A head pokes out behind him, from what Finn assumes is the teacher's lounge. An older woman with hair like a cloud and bright blue eyes grins at him. "I'm Artoo, Dean Skywalker's assistant. I thought I'd come and make sure you knew how to find us."
"Oh, good," Finn remarks, falling in step behind her as Artoo leads him through the teacher's lounge and into a narrow hallway. "Because I didn't."
"It'll take a while until you get the hang of where everything is," Artoo assures him as she opens a door and ushers Finn into the spacious Dean's office.
"Ah, hello, Finn," a man with a beard and long, salt and pepper hair greets him, marching over to shake his hand.
"Hello, Mr. Skywalker."
"You can call me Luke." The man smiles and drops into a chair, motioning for Finn to take a seat on the padded bench. "Lando's an old friend of mine."
"He's mentioned you," Finn says, and then frowns. "All good things."
Luke laughs. "If they've all been good, he's been lying. I've been talking to admissions about your schedule…"
When Artoo escorts Finn to his dorm, Yavin 4, later, Finn realizes that Luke never once brought up the incident at his old school. Hope skips inside him.
"Oh, hello!" squawks his dorm parent, a man sporting an unnatural golden tan named Threepio. "How nice to meet you. Your room is 2187, which is this way." He leads Finn through the stone apartment, across a small a courtyard with hammocks dangling from poles. "Your parents aren't here?" quizzes Threepio.
"No, sir. They're dead." To him, at least. Or, well, he's dead to them. So Finn assumes.
"I am so sorry. I—"
Shouting emerges from a room as they pass it.
"I swear, if you don't pick up your clothing this year and actually unpack—"
"Hux, it's been one hour. Try not to make me want to kill you, okay?"
"You just think you're special because everyone loves your uncle and your mum!" snaps the first voice, British and chilling.
The other boy swears.
"Oh, goodness gracious me, what is going on in here?" squeaks Threepio, yanking the door open to reveal a thin redhead glaring up at a taller and much larger boy with black hair that Finn figures he's got to spend hours styling. "Hux? Ben?"
"Do we have to room together again?" the redhead demands.
The black-haired boy crosses his arms. He's dressed to match his hair—all in black, even gloves for reasons Finn doesn't understand. "This is what happens with no one else wants to room with you, Hux. Not that I can blame them."
"Try to get along?" pleads Threepio. "We'll discuss this in—just one moment, okay?"
"Fine." The emo goth boy drops back onto his bed and pulls out his laptop. Which is, of course, black.
"You're right next door," Threepio says to Finn. "It looks like your roommate is already there—I'll—"
"It's fine," Finn interrupts, straightening and adopting a persona of bravado. A familiar companion. "I can take care of myself."
"Thank you, Finn." Threepio hurries back into the room with the feuding boys. Finn pushes at the door.
Another boy, about Finn's height and Latino, unpacks his clothing. His father hovers over him. The boy stops when he sees Finn, his face breaking into a grin. "Hey! You must be my roommate! I'm Poe, Poe Dameron. What's your name?" Poe grabs Finn's hand and shakes it.
Finn nods, noticing that his luggage has already been delivered."I'm Finn."
"Good to meet you, Finn." Poe waves his arms at the mess of clothing dumped all over his mattress. Along with what appears to be wires. "This will all get cleaned up. Eventually."
Finn laughs, his anxiety easing. Someone who doesn't know him. Someone who's not judging. "No worries."
"Kes Dameron," the father introduces himself.
More yelling echoes from the room next door. Finn cringes.
"Oh, that's just Ben Solo and Brendol Hux," Poe says. "They fight all the time. I invested in earplugs last year, and let me tell you, it was a great decision."
Finn snorts as he unzips his laptop.
"Dad's taking me to dinner in town tonight," Poe says. "One more night without cafeteria food. You wanna come? You can get Finn permission, can't you, Dad?"
Mr. Dameron shrugs as if he's okay with it.
"Um—" Finn swallows. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."
"Welcome to Jedi Academy International School," chirps Artoo, Dean Skywalker's secretary, as she hands Rey a booklet no doubt filled with a long and boring list of the school's rules. "It is so exciting to have the founder's granddaughter attending!"
Rey manages a smile. "Thank you."
Up until two weeks ago, beyond basic biological common sense, she didn't know her grandfather existed, much less that he founded a prestigious international boarding school. It's still surreal. And this woman's looking at her like she's descended from some kind of god. Rey grins, trying to shake off the uncomfortable prickles running down her back.
"Your dorm is called Jakku," Artoo says. "Mr. Skywalker is sorry he can't be here to greet you himself—move-in day keeps him busy. How was your flight?"
"Not bad."
"You jet-lagged?" Artoo presses.
"A little bit," she admits.
"Well, I'll just take you to Jakku and leave you with your dorm mother. It says here you'll be rooming with Jessika Pava; she's a nice girl…"
"Jess," as she introduces herself, has a wide smile. "Are you from the UK?"
"Yeah. I got here only a few hours ago." Rey digs through her small backpack, red and threadbare, and pulls out the rag doll she made for herself years ago, setting it on the bed. Jess's eyebrows rise. "How long have you been going to school here?" Rey asks to distract her roommate as she turns to her one suitcase.
"Three years. All of high school." Jess frowns. "Need any help with your other bags?"
"Nah, this is all I've got." The back of Rey's neck prickles.
"Oh." Jess bites her lip.
It's a privileged school, Rey's caseworker had warned her. You might find it hard to fit in.
She hadn't cared. Rey knew they wouldn't let her stay in her town, and once she left, it wouldn't matter if the place she lived was an hour away or an ocean away. None of it mattered, because her mother was never coming back.
And they said her grandfather founded it. At least she might be able to believe she was making one member of her family proud. As for not fitting in—well, Rey's spent her entire life floating around. That'd be nothing new.
She finishes hanging up the few items of clothing she owns and crawls onto the bed. "What time is dinner?" she inquires.
"Six. A bell will go off." Jess grins and checks her phone.
"Sounds great." Rey closes her eyes, but can't actually fall asleep even though every cell in her body feels weighted with exhaustion. Eventually, she drifts into a sort of purgatorial daze where she tries to run away from her memories, when she tries to stuff her own mouth to silence herself from screaming for her mother to come back.
A buzzing sound slices through Rey's ears, and she jolts upright, peering around the room. Jess has already gone. Probably to meet with friends. No matter. Rey's used to being left behind.
Excitement bounds through Rey as she wonders what the cafeteria will serve for dinner. It's an international school. Anything could be possible—curry, lasagna, pizza, tacos, steak. She should be able to pick out her own portions, too, for the first time in her life.
She heads down the covered cobblestone pathway that wraps around a particularly steep part of the hill and bounds into the cafeteria. There's what looks like tomato soup, and grilled cheese sandwiches, and green salad with six types of dressing to choose from, and apples, and brownies for dessert. Rey takes some of everything, filling up her metal tray. "What's this?" she asks one of the attendants, peering at a silver bowl of what could be sour cream, but doesn't fit with the meal.
"Whipped cream," he informs her.
Rey piles it on her two brownies and turns towards the cafeteria. Students gather around white tables, chatting and giggling. Rey doesn't see Jess. She might be upstairs, but Rey's not sure she can carry her entire tray up the stairs without spilling it.
She spots a table with one boy, clad all in black and with earphones in, sitting by himself as he taps his fingers to some kind of beat. Rey heads over and sets her tray down on the other side of the table.
He looks at her like she's a fly trying to invade his food. Black hair frames an angular face and dark eyes.
"Sorry," Rey says, shrugging. "I just—there's nowhere else to sit."
He looks away from her and picks at his own tray, eating what appears to be his second sandwich. He leaves the crusts.
Rey bites into her hot cheese sandwich. It's buttery and toasted and warm and she loves it. She dips it in the tomato soup and chews, stabbing at her salad before she's even swallowed. It's not until she's gobbled everything down but her dessert that she realizes the boy is watching her. "Can I help you?"
His lips twitch. "Do you have a brownie to go with all that whipped cream?" he asks, headphones still in. Can he even hear her?
Is he teasing or being a jerk? Try to think the best of people. They might surprise you, her caseworker had encouraged. Rey smirks. "Actually, I have two."
He snorts. "Don't tell me you actually like the food here."
Jerk it is. Rey frowns, a spoonful of whipped cream halfway to her mouth. "Why wouldn't you?" Spoiled brat.
"Clearly she's a scholarship kid!" taunts the tallest girl Rey's ever seen in her life as she stalks past, pushing Rey's shoulder. The boy scowls but doesn't speak up.
"Well," Rey says, determined not to let them faze her. "I am." She spoons the whipped cream into her mouth, glaring at him.
The boy cocks his head and studies her. "Enjoy," he tells her, sarcasm lacing his tone as he rises and stalks away, after the other girl.
"I will!" she hollers after him.
He glances over his shoulder by the door, eyes wide. Rey scowls at him.
"Rey!" Jess calls as Rey puts her tray away. "I'm so sorry! I thought you would head upstairs—"
"It's fine," Rey says. "You don't have to babysit me. I can take care of myself."
"Of course." Jess grins. "You ready for classes to start tomorrow? What are you taking, anyways?"
Rey rattles off a list: "Literature, French, history, computer science, maths, music, theory of knowledge, phys ed."
"Cool." Jess tosses her long hair. "Have you thought about sports or anything?"
"I was thinking of choir," Rey admits. "I like to sing."
"Hey, that's cool. My friend Poe's really musical as well. But if you're into sports, tryouts for the girls' soccer team are next week. I'm co-captain with Phasma." Jess scowls at the mention of this Phasma. "We really need more players."
"I'll think about it," Rey tells her, but butterflies flutter in her stomach. She might make a friend.
Thank you so much for reading! I do want to warn that going forward, this story will as a whole deal heavily with themes of abuse/abuse recovery. Nothing will ever be graphically described, but if that could be triggering, please take note.