A Terrible First Impression

Sierra’s Point of View

I could not take it anymore, so I left the hall and sat outside, watching the other kids hang on each word like good little robots.

I kept asking myself what he looked like.

Was he really the scare they talked about?

Or was he a man who hid his mean ways behind a nice smile and fine clothes?

When the talk was over, they gave us rooms… and something else I did not see coming.

A list of tasks.

I looked at mine as if it were a mean trick.

Wash clothes. Clean the food place. Look after the grounds.

I gave a sharp laugh, not a happy one. The only “tasks” I had done were picking my shoes for big meetings.

"Is there a problem with your list, first-year?" a voice said from behind me.

I turned and saw the girl from before—Riley, I think—looking at me with a sly smile.

“No, it's all good,” I lied, bending the paper so fast it almost tore. “I’m Sierra, by the way.”

She shook my hand. “Good to meet you, Sierra. I can show you around if you need it. First days here are wild.”

“Thanks,” I said, happy to meet someone kind. “Where is the book place?”

She showed me a big glass building over the yard. “There. But lessons start in ten—”

“Thanks!” I said, and started off fast.

Classes could wait. I had to get some air. I had to find some room. I had to work out how I could wash clothes without turning them all white.

The library was a quiet place, like a big church. It was cool inside, people walked soft, and it smelled like old books.

I walked around without a plan, running my hand over the book covers like I fit in. I did not.

At last, I found a big, soft chair in a still spot and fell into it like I had no weight. I had not slept in days. With all my running and worry, I was worn out.

"Just five minutes," I told myself. "Then I'll head to class."

My eyes shut. And did not open.

****

When I did open them, the light had turned soft and gold. I sat up fast and took a deep breath.

How long had I been out?

I got up fast, not minding my stiff neck and the hunger in my belly. I had last eaten just a bit of toast before the welcome stuff.

I went to the food place.

Locked.

Of course.

Great. Day one and I was already messing up.

I walked to the dorms, looking at the crumpled map they gave us to find my room on the top floor. The hall was silent. No hellos. No smiles. Just the buzz of old lights and the hint of soap.

I stopped at my door before I pushed it open.

Half the room was ready. There were neat shelves, a tidy bed with soft pillows, and a big group of photos and sayings on the wall.

My half?

Empty. Just a plain bed, thin cover, and a small dresser. I had seen bigger closets than this place.

Then I saw the red tape. A bold red line down the floor right between our beds.

And on my pillow, a lone piece of paper, folded nice and neat.

I picked it up.

DO NOT CROSS.

I don’t do small talk. I don’t share snacks.

Keep your things on your side. Don’t touch my stuff.

Don’t wake me unless the building’s on fire.

-B

Wow, no good start to make new friends.

I looked over for some hint of this “B”—no name tag, no warm note, not one tip. Just rules and walls.

No old snack, much less a meal.

I sat by my bed and stared at the wall. The paper was still in my grip.

My first try at dorm life and it was sour.

I grabbed the welcome pack from the desk and slowly went through it. Then, a part got me:

Professor Damon Cross – Head of Crestmont Business School.

Used to be a big shot advisor, helped big companies, and gave advice to top bosses.

He’s super strict, takes care of student life and money matters.

Everyone must follow his lead, no back talk.

I let out a big sigh.

From one tough guy to a new one. Great.

A knock made me jump.

"Come in," I shouted.

It was Riley, but she looked scared.

“Hi,” she rushed in. “I was looking for you.”

“What’s up?” I said, a bit scared.

“Well… Professor Cross saw you leave the start talk. He wants you in his office. Tomorrow at eight.”

I blinked. “That’s not good, is it?”

Riley made a face. “Just be there early. And be wise. He’s not one you trick.”

She left as fast as she got there.

I fell back on my bed.

One day here, and I was on the bad side of the man all fear.

So much for staying unnoticed.

****

Soon, I fell asleep without meaning to. When I woke up, a warm hand touched my shoulder.

I sat up fast.

“This isn’t a sleep room,” said a smooth, sharp voice.

I looked up. And forgot how to breathe.

He was tall, dressed sharp, and very scary. His dark hair had a bit of grey. His face was smooth. His cheeks were sharp. His look was strong.

I stood fast. “I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sleep. I just…”

My words stopped from his strong vibe.

His navy suit was crisp, his shirt unwrinkled despite the late hour, and his tie was dark as ink. He looked like he belonged on the cover of Forbes not prowling the library.

“You missed orientation. Then classes,” he said, not asking—stating. “Then you decided the library was your bedroom?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s been… a long day.”

“Long days only get longer here, Miss…” His eyes narrowed slightly, waiting.

“Blake,” I said quickly. “Sierra Blake.”

He studied me for a moment longer, then gave the slightest nod. “My office. Tomorrow morning. Eight. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

And with that, Professor Damon Cross turned and walked away, his presence still wrapped around the room like cold steel.

I stood there, frozen.

So that was him.

The man behind the whispers.

The man who saw through people like me in a single glance.

And now… I had his full attention.

Lucky me.