“All the good girls go to hell. ’Cause even God herself has enemies. And once the water starts to rise and heaven’s out of sight, she’ll want the devil on her team.”—Billie Eilish.
Chapter Theme Song: ‘all the good girls go to hell’ by Billie Eilish.
••
Harmony
The day has dawn crisp and bright, as the sun drips its yellow yolk through the open window, covering the room with its soft orange hue. I open bleary eyes to regard the clock sitting on the wooden table next to me.
7:05 am.
I have class at eight and I’d hate to be late for my first lecture, so although my eyes are heavy and I feel like I’ve been running a thousand miles per hour, I have to gather the strength to get up.
I knew attending that orientation-party thingy last night was a bad idea. Feeling lethargic on your first day isn’t something you’d want to start the term with. I’ve been able to overcome the countless amount of peer pressure during high school, hence, I am not sure why I allowed my roommate to influence me to attend that social gathering last night.
It was not an orientation—well not the type that I am used to, and the only thing I attained from it all was a weird boy gawking at me as if I had a booger in my nose. Stripping oneself in front of a bunch of screaming girls has nothing to do with the curriculum of Homewood furthermore, and I don’t see how it’d assist me with getting my degree. This is one weird college.
A hand sprawling over the top-bed tells me that April is still asleep. I had high hopes of getting the top section of the bunk bed, but after returning last night to see a giant spider hovering above the headboard, I decided that a little squeak is far more optional than insects.
I reach for my duffel bag from the floor beside me and begin digging through for something to wear to class. I settle with a beige skirt and a white long-sleeved top.
I get up from my bed, grimacing at the cold tiles as I mince my way to the bathroom. The space is small and consists of a shower, a toilet, a face basin, and a white wooden cabinet. I place my chosen pair onto a small table in the corner before quickly stripping out of my clothes. I brush my teeth then get under the shower, switching the pipe on and sighing when the cool water begins to race down my body.
Early morning showers are the best. It makes for a reenergized spirit and offers a short moment of mediation before embarking on a long day. I will need energy today more than anything. College is not high school, and I know it’s going to take some serious effort for me to get accustomed to the change in curriculum and environment. It’s especially difficult for someone like me whose skin crawls at the sight of new faces. Changes are not something I am fond of.
After a long moment of self-reflection, I finally turn the pipe off and climb out of the shower. I dry off then get dressed before exiting the bathroom with my worn clothes in hand.
April is finally up and making her bed, and I smile as I put away the clothes I had taken off.
“Good morning.”
She swings her head around and her eyes rake over my attire. I shift in discomfort as she ogles me from head to toe.
“Good morning. Are you wearing that to class?”
My eyebrows furrow in puzzlement as I assess my clothes. “Uhm...yeah. Why?” Certainly, there is nothing wrong with my choice of attire. I dress rather conservatively; my legs and cleavage are always covered. I just feel it is always best to leave things to people’s imagination.
“Nothing...” She purses her lips. “Nothing at all.”
“Do I look weird?”
“No, no. You just look...different...from the people here.”
I tilt my head in confusion, and she smiles. “It’s not something bad. I just think you’re modest, is all.”
I smile. “Thank you. Uhm, should I wait for you?”
She shakes her head, climbing down from her bed and bracing her waists. “No, we don’t have the same classes anyway and I don’t want you to be tardy so we can catch up later.”
Thank God. She doesn’t seem like she will be ready anytime soon and I am running late.
“Sure?” I ask, in a bid to be courteous but I am secretly hoping her answer remains the same.
“Yeah I am sure, see you later.”
“Okay bye.” I smile as I grab my knapsack from the floor, waving weirdly before turning away and heading out.
••
The classes so far are torturously boring. I am not sure what I expected from college but it’s really not that great. People paint such a perfect picture of it—perhaps that’s why I had such high expectations. Or maybe I am the one who refuses to let my hair down a little.
I am an English major, and I have a deep love for literature, music, and art. I wish I was able to pursue all of them at once, but I knew I had to choose one for now. My mom thinks that you don’t necessarily need a degree in art or music. She believes that those talents aren’t learned but something that comes naturally.
I am now sitting in English class, diligently copying the notes that Mr. Jones is jotting on the board.
I hear the door to the theatre opens and half of the class turn their heads in the direction.
My eyes unintentionally widen as soon as they grace Blaze Xander.
He’s in this class?
I almost get whiplash as I focus ahead quickly, writing scribbly from anxiety as I recall the countless amount of warnings the girls gave me last night.
Stay away from him.
Don’t let him near you.
He’s heartless.
You will regret it.
“Hello.”
I look up to see him pulling out a chair from the large table next to me, and it creaks against the floor loudly, causing the lecturer to glance around in sheer annoyance. Blaze doesn’t seem to care for his professor’s rebuking gaze as he plops down next to me with a toothy smile. “So nice to see you here.”
His appealing scent from last night dominates the air-conditioned room and he’s even more handsome in the daytime.
Today he’s wearing a green long-sleeved shirt that hugs his built and black fitted jeans. A small silver necklace hangs around his neck and both ears are adorned with small hoop earrings. His dark hair is faded at the sides with thick black curls on top, and his lips are so red that I am convinced he applies lip-gloss.
I am not sure what to say to his greeting and so I refocus on my notebook to continue taking my notes.
He frowns. “A hi would be nice.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek silently, and he grabs his book from his bag as he speaks again. “How old are you?”
Really?
I look at him. I want to ask why he posed that question, but I figure it is best if I don’t speak. He will eventually realize that this conversation is one-sided and stops talking. Hopefully.
“You look like sixteen,” he continues. “Or fifteen the least.”
I look a lot younger than my age; it’s something I greatly detest. When you look petite in size people take it as an invitation to try to walk all over you. It happened a few times in high school and I am not about to let the incidents repeat themselves in college.
“I am eighteen,” I clarify.
Did I just respond?
Wow, Harmony, the one time you should be quiet you decide to speak. How ironic.
He grins widely then pretends to look alarmed. His blue orbs dancing with amusement. “Woah, and she speaks.”
His dimples have resurfaced, and my cheeks turn pink for some weird reason. I avert my eyes to my notebook again, gripping my pen harder. He makes me feel really weird.
“Your voice is sexy,” he comments.
My body stiffens as a chunk load of heat spreads over my face. No-one has ever used that word to describe me before. Sexy is just an unbefitting adjective for someone like me. Short, tiny, quiet, reserve, but sexy? It’s odd.
I look up at him and he is now focusing on his notebook as he opens it.
I catch a brilliantly drawn animation on a page, and as he’s about to turn it, I grip his hand quickly and impulsively.
He looks at me with wide eyes and I draw back, embarrassed that a mere drawing pulled me from my shell. When it comes to my creative interests, my brain tends to operate and make decisions without my permission. I annoy myself sometimes with how sudden and awkward my actions can be.
The corner of Blaze’s lips quirks up in a smile. “You wanna see?”
I nod a little and he pushes the book across to me.
I gaze at the artwork in fascination. It is of the Japanese anime character ‘Naruto.’ I can tell, but the thing is half of his face is smiling and the other half looks...sad? Did he draw this? It is so beautifully creative. Each line is formed to perfection, with no trace of indecision or lack of skill, and his color saturation is clean and well defined. Wouldn’t expect this talent from someone with his form of social status and appearance.
“Is this yours?” I ask and he nods, twirling his pen on his fingers skillfully. “Yeah, you like it?”
I smile a little. Like? I love it. I stare at the drawing, getting lost in the feelings it evokes. The image looks happy yet undeniably melancholic as if it serves to portray an emotional battle within oneself. It is deep. I am not sure why, but I like it a whole lot.
He is remarkably talented. Just like me. Maybe we could be friends?
“Stay away from him”
“Don’t let him near you”
Or maybe not.
I close the book and slide it across to him, biting my lip as drop my gaze back to my notebook.
He smiles. “Tell you what,” he begins and I look at him. “Come to my room later and I’ll teach you how to draw that. We could work on some art pieces together too.”
His room?
He realizes that my eyes immediately narrow and he chuckles. “It’s not what you think. Look, April’s words must have scared you off last night, but I am not that bad.”
I find it odd that out of all the places on campus he chose his room as the most suitable location.
I blink at him silently, and he sighs. Strangely, his eyes don’t reflect how troubled he is despite his exhalation. They have an estranged look in them, a vacant glint that I can’t quite explain.
He places his palms on the back of his head, leaning back comfortably. “I guess the girls ruined my image.”
It’s not fair for someone to dictate to you whether or not you should interact with someone without you getting a chance to know them for yourself. I know that, but I just don’t think it is right to be in a guy’s dorm. My mom would not approve of it and my conscience won’t allow me to follow through with it even though I am not in her presence. God is watching me.
“It’s not because of April,” I justify. “I just don’t think that it is a good idea to be in a guy’s room...alone.”
Finally, his orbs display some form of emotion as a hint of amazement flashed across his irises. He nods, smiling composedly. “Okay, noted.”
I purse my lips and return my eyes to the board as I continue writing, and he stays silent after that.
I corner-eye him every ten seconds, and he’s either scribbling graffiti on the smooth, spotless desk, fiddling with the ring on his finger or just humming something beneath his breath—anything other than taking his notes. His page has been blanked this whole time, whilst I am unto my fifth page. Everyone is different though, maybe he learns by listening.
Class finally ends and students conjure up from their seats as I stuff my notebook into my bag.
“I will see you around, green eyes." Blaze smirks, as he grabs his bag and jogs out of the class.
He doesn’t seem disappointed that I rejected his request; he appears nonchalant and unfazed. Maybe he has someone else he could draw with? Judging by how the first years were going crazy for him last night I guess he has several other options. I’m sure the tiny redhead would pipe up at the opportunity.
I zip my rucksack up while Mr. Jones looks up at me from his podium. “Uhm, excuse me, miss...”
“Skye,” I acknowledge. “Harmony Skye.”
He smiles and gestures me over with his hand. “Come here for a minute.”
He spins the waists of his roomy trousers while I fix my bag onto my shoulders. Standing up, I walk down to where he stands while adjusting the straps of my rucksack.
He scratches his nose and glances in the direction of the doorway; probably checking to see if the class is clear.
“I saw you sitting beside Blaze Xander today,” he starts by saying, and I pull my sleeves down as an anxious habit.
Am I in trouble for just sitting beside Blaze? This isn’t kindergarten.
“Uhm, okay....” I mutter when he doesn’t say anything else for a second.
He laughs, showcasing wrinkles at the corners of his hazel eyes. He’s a middle-aged man based on observation, with thick black hair lined with streaks of white.
“Don’t look so frightened, Skye. I just think you should stay away from boys like those.”
Another warning. I am now confused. What’s so bad about him? He seemed nice earlier. He even respected my reason for not agreeing to his proposal. Why are they painting this picture that I cannot see?
“May I ask why?” I query, and he sighs.
“He doesn’t have good intentions. Just be careful of him. I know he’s handsome and charming but that’s his weapon, you’re a first-year so you may not know.”
I am not one to judge, but they have known him way longer than I have, so taking their advice would be the smartest decision.
I nod. “Oh, okay...”
He smiles and gestures to the door, and I turn around and walk away.
•• Blaze “April!” I mewl dramatically, throwing my arms around her neck from behind as she stands in line to collect her food. “The canteen is out of burgers.” She rolls her eyes and wriggles away from my embrace. “You and your burgers. Why don’t you just become a burger and eat yourself?” “I’ve got girls to do that for me.” I smile, then turn my attention to the lady behind the counter who has been serving our lunches for two years now. She looks about thirty and her hair is always hidden with a black hairnet. The large apron hides her matured figure, but I can tell she has a remarkable one beneath the white fabric. “Good morning, Pat.” I rest my elbows onto the counter, raising my eyebrows while staring into her face. Her cheeks become noticeably rosy, but she pretends to be annoyed, rolling her eyes as she stirs the pot of Mac and Cheese. I do this every lunch period and she never drops the facade. It’s alr
"You picked a dance with the devil and you lucked out."—Chase Atlantic. Chapter Theme Song: ‘Swim’ by Chase Atlantic. •• Harmony “He drank from your straw?” April puts a black dress, draped on a hanger, over her form as she stands in front of the mirror, cocking her head to the side contemplatively. The dress looks extremely skimpy and leaves nothing to the imagination. The sleeves are laced-covered, and the cleavage and back area are widely low-cut. One bad shift and her chest will be displayed for the whole world to see. She seems to be going somewhere, and I solemnly hope she does not try to drag me along like last night. I am not up for meeting anymore handsome, creepy boys. It is as if my words have just sunken it as she turns to look at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. “He drank from your straw?!” I nod.Well, welcome back to e
•• Blaze “Oh, Shit!” I laugh, as Cole spits out alcohol onto the hard table, unable to keep it down as liquid flows through his nostrils. I shift away from the surface of puke as the brunette on my lap shakes her head in disgust. “I give up, I give in,” he says between breaths, and my lips spread in a grin. “I can see that. My money.” I stretch my hand out, and he sighs, digging into his trousers with a pained face. James stands next to me, laughing his face off whilst awfully chewing on a straw. Would you believe me if I told you that I hate being here, at this party, around all these people? I can’t pinpoint one person in this room that I genuinely like. James is alright, but I can’t feel that brotherly love that other people feel for their bros. My heart is just void, and all I can think about right now is how this brunette’s rear is pressing the life out of my dick. “You sons of bitches should know that yo
•• Harmony I place my pencil and crayons down, pleased with what I have produced. It has been a while since I have exercised the talent, so I am appalled that my skills are still the same. I smile to myself as I tilt my head, staring proudly at the accurate piece. I intended to draw just a pair of blue eyes, but now Blaze’s entire upper body is on the paper. My photographic memory has saved his image so clearly in my head and I could not resist the urge to carve more than just his eyes. It’s scary how precise the illustration is, that I can feel butterflies gathering around in the pit of my stomach. I stare into the eyes of the sketch, my cheeks becoming flammable once again. “Don’t let him near you” “You will regret it” I flash my head. Drawing an image of him does not mean that I am interested in him. I am sure. Now that I’ve proven to myself that my talent is still present, I shoul
“So you brought out the best of me. A part of me I’ve never seen. You took my soul and wiped it clean. Our love was made for movie scenes.”—Emma Bale. Chapter Theme Song: ‘All I Want’ by Emma Bale. (A/N: ^please listen the above song at the scene where Harmony sings it in the chapter :) •• Harmony The light of dawn seeps into my room, the hot sun scorching my face and forcing me out of slumber. I sit up in bed craggily, promptly noticing that the room is quiet and empty. Drifting sleepy orbs to the nightstand, I realize that a small note sits there. I reach over for it, wiping drool from my mouth with the back of my hand. Didn’t wake you up cause I wasn’t sure if you had an early class. I left early, see ya latez :) —April. Luckily, I don’t have literature until nine, or else I would have been tardy for my firs
•• Harmony “So another thing you need to know is that the food here is nasty as hell,” Mal informs as we walk from the theatre, and I chuckle as I look up at him, listening keenly to every word of advice he’s giving me. He has been here for two years now, so he’s a lot more familiar with the environment. Hence, his words are gospel for me, I need to take everything in like a vacuum. So far, his personality is golden, and it’s really refreshing to finally meet someone here who seems level-headed and collective. No offense, April. I crinkle my nose with a smile, gripping my straps while swinging in my strides. “I have tried the sandwich from their snack bar, it’s not so bad.” “The snack bar isn’t bad, but the cafeteria? Is awful. I think Pat needs to get us better lunches.” And we chuckle. During our shared laughter, my eyes spot an open room, and inside holds a shiny black piano. A stab of nost
“I’m jealous, I’m overzealous. When I’m down I get real down. When I’m high I don’t come down. I get angry, baby, believe me. I could love you just like that and I can leave you just as fast.” —Julia Michaels. Chapter Theme Song: ‘Issues’ by Julia Michaels. •• Harmony The car is silent as we propel along the slippery road, the sound of rain splattering against metal and the faded roars of passing vehicles filling the frigid void. I had no idea the ride to the mall would be this long. I am dying of anxiety being in this tiny space next to him, and the fact that he’s half-naked makes this situation even more nerve-wracking. I quietly puff air from my cheeks, rubbing my palms along my legs in restlessness. Blaze glances over at me and softly smiles before focusing back to the road. “So, who taught you to play the piano?” I gaze at him at the posi
** Harmony I place my palm over my head and hurry toward his vehicle, quickly pulling the door and sliding in. I wipe water from my clothes as I look over at him. His expression is stern and unsmiling, and I shrink in my seat. “Are you okay?” “The man is perfectly fine, he can work to earn an income, so I have no idea why you just gave him your money,” he starts, turning his glare at me. I take notice of how dark his pupils have become, and he seems a lot different than who he was thirty minutes ago. “It’s called caring,” I answer. “Or being stupid. He has two legs, just like us. Everyone is trying to find their way in life, he should get up and try too, not fair for him to take other people’s hard-working money.” I drop my gaze to the plastic bag in my lap. He has a point but there is no danger in giving. I won’t apologize for being softhearted; I feel like Blaze just lacks compassion. He sighs when h