Chapter 5 Chapter 5: The Farewell

The sun is not even out yet, and I’m already on my feet, not having slept a single minute during the night. My excitement got the best of me, and I checked and rechecked my luggage at least five times. I stopped counting on the sixth.

Today is the day my life will change. 

The train is supposed to pick us up at seven o’clock, sharp, to take us to the capital. From there, we’ll be taken to the Haldorian Academy.

My stomach is churning so badly that I fear I might vomit at any minute.

I pick a comfortable outfit—jeans, boots, and a black, long-sleeve shirt—and wash and blow-dry my hair, wanting to still look presentable once I’m surrounded by all sorts of students. I’m certain most of them come from wealthy families, but I don’t want to stand out because I look like I don’t belong.

I can’t pretend I’m rich, but I can still look nice.

Other than the fact that I will meet people from all over the country, there’s also something else tugging at my heart as I get ready to depart.

Ever since I was accepted into the Academy, my parents haven’t talked to me. They only addressed me when it was time for lunch or dinner, but even then, we would eat in silence, the awkwardness between us driving me to insanity. 

I didn’t have the courage to talk to them, and since they were avoiding me, I thought confronting them about what I overheard would be a mistake.

Their words replayed in my head over and over for the past couple of weeks, and no matter how hard I try to understand what they meant, I am clueless. 

“He will know soon.”

Whatever it is they are hiding from me, I doubt they will tell me if I ask.

I hate the idea of parting ways without them speaking to me, but what else can I do?

I turn to stare at my bedroom. I have no idea when or if I’ll ever return to it one day, so it feels bittersweet to say goodbye to a place that has been my home my whole life. 

“Be brave, Hettie. You can do it,” I encourage myself, pulling my luggage to the door and taking a deep breath.

My parents are watching TV in the living room when I get to the bottom of the stairs. 

“I’m on my way now.” My voice comes out lower than I intended, but they seem to have heard me alright as their heads snap in my direction.

I can tell my mom has tears in her eyes, even though her jaw is tense. My father is looking at me with an unreadable expression, but the frown between his brows tells me he is not happy. 

None of them are. But I wasn’t expecting it to be any different.

I clear my throat, hoping to sound more confident this time. But there’s a lump preventing me from sounding brave and determined.

What should I say? 

That I love them?

That I’ll miss them? 

That I hope one day they can understand why I’m doing this? 

They already know all of these things.

My heart seems to be shrinking in my chest, and it suddenly feels hard to breathe. My eyes prickle with tears, but I force them back.

I won’t cry.

I won’t regret my choices.

This is what I want to do.

I just need to make peace with the fact that they can’t accept that.

“You can write to me if you need anything,” I finally say, although I know they won’t do such a thing. “I am truly sorry things have to be like this.”

Dad keeps staring at me, but my mom looks away, focusing her gaze on the TV. Her hands are clenched on her lap, her knuckles turning white. 

I wait a whole minute for them to say something, but they never do.

The door slams behind me as I leave the house. The walk to the train station takes me twenty minutes. The cold weather is merciless today, as if wanting to make my life harder. It’s a struggle to pull the luggage over the gravel ground, and at some point, I worry the wheels might break. But thankfully, it gets to the station with no more than a few scratches.

The place is packed, just like the square was on Enrollment Day. I spot some familiar faces that greet me with a nod as I head to the box office to get my ticket. 

While I wait in line, my eyes roam over the platform, searching for Hans.

“Hettie?” someone says behind me.

I turn on my heels and spot big, dark saucer eyes staring back at me. Her black, bobbed hair is impeccable, and her fair skin looks as delicate as always. 

“Francesca?” 

She’s the daughter of the two most important healers at our hospital in Brammere. It is only expected that she’d want to follow in her parents’ footsteps when she came of age.

“Oh, my God. I heard you had enrolled, but I thought it was a rumour. I can’t believe you’re going to the Academy too,” she gushes, patting me on the shoulder excitedly.

I met Francesca while playing soccer with Hans when we were nine. My parents would only allow me to go out when he’d come along, and that’s how I met several of his friends. 

Francesca has always been very athletic and good at sports, but mostly, she’s great at her healing abilities. She once patched up Hans’ chin when he got hit during one of our play sessions. The skin split open, so deep that we could even see the bone. 

I had to look away and swallow the bile that climbed up my throat, but Francesca was so calm, ordering him to sit still so she could mend the skin back together. I was marvellous at the sight. It had been the first time I saw a healer use their abilities up close.

I shrug. “Yeah, well… I was kind of tired of staying inside the house while life happened outside.”

She nods, then looks from left to right as if searching for something.

“And since you seem to be here by yourself, I assume your parents didn’t approve of it, right?” There’s a hint of condolence in her voice, but surprisingly, it doesn’t bother me. I know she means well. 

“You assumed right.”

Francesca pouts and squeezes my shoulder in a reassuring gesture. 

“I’m sorry, Hettie. But hey, good thing we’ll have each other. At least we’ll face those entitled rich kids from the capital together.” 

She grimaces, squinting her nose in a cute way.

“Count me on that team, girl.” Hans winks at Francesca as he joins us.

She pulls him into a hug. “Dad told me you had gotten in. Your father wouldn’t shut up about it at the hospital.” She chuckles, but Hans only rolls his eyes.

“Why wouldn’t I be accepted? I mean, you must suck really bad to be rejected at the Academy.”

“Ardella was rejected, and she doesn’t suck,” I remind him. 

“Right?” Francesca widens her eyes, leaning forward and dropping her voice so no one hears us. “Didn’t you think that was weird?”

“I heard some rumors…” Hans provokes. There’s a hint of a smirk on the corner of his lips, and I know he wants us to beg for him to tell more.

“Just drop the act and tell us already,” Francesca presses.

He leans forward, and we follow, our heads close together.

“A little bird told me that her father is supposedly an activist against the regime. He’s on the king’s dark list.”