June collapsed on her bed, the tiredness overflowing her need to escape. The walls were closing in on her. She needed to breathe fresh air. Despite her eyes being tired from reading Mrs. Norris's assigned book report, she can't fall asleep.

 Great Expectations, lay on her mahogany bedside table with its broken handles, a welcome break from her daily routine. Since the main telephone had been out of order for 13 years, there was no way to communicate with Julia. June longed for a letter from her as she promised, but they had yet to arrive as she pushed down the urge to punch Mrs. Norris in the face. And she too, went to sleep. 

A brown-skinned skinny child looked in the mirror of a typical girl's bedroom at the break of dawn. Her scrawniness was less visible than now, and her black hair was in a ponytail; she had a nauseous expression. A taller and slightly chubby girl with medium golden brown hair with a logoed t-shirt put a hand on her shoulder. 

“ You’re going to be okay right?” she said with a beautiful concerned smile.

“ Julia…”

“ That man said you had potential beyond the stars; you’re going to be great.”

“ I just took that stupid gifted test.

"You took the test just like everyone else here and did it like everyone else without preparation and staticity," Julia said. "When Mr.Oxford told you that you would leave first thing tomorrow, you jumped up about finally going away. Don't you want to leave?"

The girl in a ponytail that was somehow June fumbled with the bedding, she sat on and looked to the ground.

         " When I was ready to take the test, I put on my best suspenders and wrote with my best pencil—the one with the wood that never broke. Getting out of the orphanage is all I ever wanted, but now that it's finally here, I don't know, this is my home where I have always been, even when no one wanted me, maybe where I belonged."

Julia stood up from the floral print bed and stared sharply into June's eyes.  

    " With every bone in your body, your home is not at the orphanage. I saw the light in your eyes when you saw the school in the papers hung on the bulletin board and TV screens. You saw how they talked, you wanted to be just like them. Have trust in yourself and keep moving forward.

The skinny girl now looking in the reflection of a mirror and gazing back at it with tears in her eyes, ran up to Julia and squeezed her tightly.

"I've always hated the confined orphanage, of a time where I wouldn't be afraid of Mrs. RiverWash yelling at me for not making a perfect green origami swan. She said I was a worthless orphan that no one loved." Julia hugged June tighter, but June pushed her away. "Now that I think about it, the orphanage is my home, where my bed has always been. They took me in when no one wanted me when no one cared. Even if they tried to welcome me, they knew I was never truly welcomed. This is my new home, where I belong now." Suddenly, June's only friend and supporter since she arrived at the orphanage in Mrs. Filkins's arms, wrapped in a blanket, was hugging her tightly on her torn floral bedding. Her shirt was wet with tears or maybe sweat.  

  “ June Ki, Is that right?” 

June nodded up and down like a speechless robot whose voice had been stolen away by people with painfully white shirts. 

“Here at Rosemary Academy, we have several, diverse students enter our doors but we have never met anyone as parentally challenged as you are right now. Let me guide you to the proper adequacy that this school expects from everyone, Do you understand?”

June nodded again. The woman with pursed lips and Everest-like high heels who climbed to be the head executive led June down her familiar hallway from the dorm Julia previously hugged June in. The woman stomped her heels quickly and loudly as if trying to shake off the filth of undesirable children off her feet. The noise woke orphans who were either trying to figure out the unknown noise or already knew the sound of professional feet running away from them. By the time she realized, all the kids were up, including the stupid pricks. 

You would expect that someone who was unwanted as much as she was, who was left with nothing but the clothes on her back and the hair on their head would at least mind their own business. That's what June thought anyway. On the first day of June’s Arrival, she first saw an under-tall little boy with brown hair, blue eyes, and a deranged amount of freckles. She was in the sandpit when he invaded her personal space ( which should be more than one meter.)

“ Hi, my name is Richard Capsun. But I am one of the elite members of this boarding school so I must suspect that you and the rest of group A will be under my control.”

“ What……?”  

“It may be possible that you have not heard me correctly. My great aunt Is the founder and head director of this boarding academy and you must respect me and my colleagues. 

Do you understand? This very odd boy was a mere inch away from June. She could feel droplets of saliva as he screamed in her face. Extremely confused and disgusted she headed outside to play with the toy truck she found in the sandpit.

“Maybe our new friend here does not know how to speak English. Maybe she can’t even speak at all! Maybe we need Alana to sort her out.”

 That's when she learned how to tolerate her hands behind her back almost daily, and the rumors of more untrue things than she could count. First, June wondered if they may have some psychotic disorder, now, she found out that the motives of their taunts were just in spite of everything. When you are a trembling little orphan with no home you are trying to cling to any part of something that makes you a person when you don’t even feel human. Even so when someone treats you like a zoo animal falling for tricks while pretending you can't understand what the captors say about you. But you can hear everything. There are two options, you can leave your past behind or find someone who can make you forget it.

 June ended up getting the worst of both worlds. She would try to forget her past if there was nothing to remember, only…rain, lots of rain. Like her, some people forget their past. They forgot where they came from the same bond tying them together. But as time went on that bond was deserted, lying in the back of a new family's home or the teacher's pad-locked cabinet. Once they forget that bond they torment people for their tragic past, which once brought them together a million years ago. 

June’s mind flashed back to her walking down the hall with the woman with pursed lips. Her mind wandered to the whispering mob of kids in blue non-torn uniforms and some in their clothes. As the hushed voices of others overcame the click of the woman's high inclined heels a painful lump fell in her chest.   

As always June tried to pretend that she could not hear the voices but this time it was nothing compared to the unbearable voice in her head.

  “ You know that they are talking about you.” It said, “ Not the woman, they're talking about how you don’t deserve this. She probably feels bad for you. That's why you're here.”

“Shut up, I deserve to be here more than anyone else. That's why they are in the hall gawking and I'm taking the steps to change my life."  This angered the voice.

" Taking the steps to change your life? Ha! Changing your life! Do you think that things will be different now? Do you think that you're not going to be the hated loner who barely passes yearly exams? I won't be surprised by the end of two months they will chew you and spit you out the back door back to the orphanage! They wouldn't even want you! They'll throw you on the streets, the little chances of even having a future will be thrown away as well."

"June."

“You won't survive a day there, these people will be even more snobbish and even more worthy than you. They even have a family! Think about what they have and what you don't. Think about how much they will try to pass exams for the people they love. The reason you don't even try is because there is no one to try for, no one for you to love.”

"June…"

“Don't even try to deny it. If you could get anything you ever wanted dead or alive it would be something, anything to love. It's the first thing you've ever thought about and the first thing you've ever learned to repress. Every night you think about what it could have been like. Every night you sit there thinking, imagining what it might have been like. But every day when you get up in the morning you repress the pressure deep inside of you to the point where you can't feel anything but terrible numbness. You don't need to learn how to move on. It's never going away."

"June!"

June jerked up from her thoughts and saw a tall stern woman peering down at her, angrily.

"Here at Rosemary Academy we only accept quality students for quality learning. This will be the first and last time I will ever see you daydreaming. Is that understood?” The dark, bleached voice in June’s head smiled and perched on her shoulders, forcing her to slouch down. Her eyes got wider and It seemed an atomic bomb dropped in her stomach. June nodded quickly to the question.  The voice inside her let out a hurtful smirk that felt like a pang in June's heart.

“ See how quickly you broke under the life of a high society girl.” It continued, “Why, I wonder how everyone else must cope!” This time the voice did not mock her as she did to herself, it showed concern, and curiosity, something June never expected. It caught her by surprise. 

“ So,” the tall woman said, “How long have you been living here?’

“The orphanage?’ 

“Yes, the orphanage. It seems like you know your way around here, I love a new child who is so eccentric looking yet able to enter rosemary.” She looked behind herself for the first time, "What is it like here?” June first thought the woman was trying to start a conversation like she would imagine she would when she entered Rosemary, but it felt like she was interrogating her.

 What an interesting specimen with a parrot nose and messy hair. Disowned from her natural habitat, and kept in captivity?

“Well,” she said. “ My earliest memories were in the orphanage.” She lied “I have lived here my whole life.” 

“ Pity, and you don’t know who your parents are?”

“Never knew anything, never will,” June lied again. The woman went silent “At least she is somewhat in touch with reality, learn how to take a clue.” June thought after.

After one round of steps and passing hallways, June made it to the place where it all started, the wooden door. It's a pretty cute door. Same with everything else in this run-down place. The green wood, pick flowers and welcome signs. Except with 3 letters missing and one crooked, now it's just W_LC_O_M E. The moment June went to the door the waterfall of memories spilled on her.

It was something years ago but it soaked up like a sponge and was never forgotten. On her birthday, a woman picked Lawrence up and never put her back down. 

Although she was merely considered a bud, June never saw the same light in Julia's eyes ever again after she left. A sisterly bond, closer than anything.  Lawrence, like June, Julia, and everyone else had the same tragic backstory that made women bring tears to their eyes and men's heads drop.  What June loved was when the caretakers placed one in front of their very eyes instead of a computer screen. That’s when the awkward sarong comes into place, the sympathetic conversations and the small talk. The glances around the room, the hushed whispers of couples reconsidering how expensive a child can be. They then shake your hand if it looks like you've washed it beforehand, making you believe they have agreed to the lifetime contract of childbearing. The couple soon tells the first adult in the room that they don't want any children.    

By the time the caretakers glance at you June knows to prepare for glare and judges wondering what is wrong with this child.  

Lawrence never loved anyone more than Julia, and Julia can’t live without her. Lawrence was eight, and June and Julia were seven. Three innocent children, unaware of anything except for each other, made a promise that they would never leave, never change, and never be loved by anyone except each other until a white man with a stern face picked up her underweight body.

She could never imagine what it could feel like to Julia. Losing the only person you love when you can still remember….

"June!" 

"Oh um, yes let's go."

"We shall leave now." 

“ Of course.” June’s arms prickled with goosebumps the moment the sound left her body. Leaving the orphanage twisted her stomach, and tangled her intestines, her soul was thrashing. But, she knew, no matter how many times claws dug into her shoulders, she would try to keep her chin up and never stop dreaming. The maroon doorknob twisted as the tall woman opened it, the outside let out a windy draft and a misty fog that blocked the skies for days. The grass dragged closer to the rocky path, begging the feet not to leave. June walked past the onyx gate after the woman, touched it gently, and entered a small, yellow school bus that left the orphanage.

The orphanage is quite large, with an executive-style look. The bricks were strictly cloud gray but from afar they looked like stone. A singular evergreen vine hugged the building, growing flowers on each outstretch. It was a sliver of beauty in June's world of chains, she was stuck there, and she is now loose from their grasp and Julia too. Julia is gone, she will never be able to live without her, June could not survive here, she will fail, she will be looked down upon, and she will disappoint everyone but most importantly Julia. Just, Julia……

June’s bed felt a mighty thud as June sprang from her bedsheets, jumping up and gasping for air. How can all of this be behind her? It will never be behind her. Fearing that Julia may never be in her grasp again. But what would Julia do, what would she say? What would she hope?  Julia will still believe. Julia would let go. June could not let go, she couldn't liberate from her past. After all, it has done to her. Sweat dripped from her forehead, down her spine and through her legs, out her feet. She got up. Started to pace, and ran her fingers through her dark hair. Holding onto her head like a wet rope. She plummeted to her mattress, reached into her drawer, and began to write. 

“Dear Julia, 

Every day feels slower and slower, like a dream that I am working to escape. I may not live here for any longer than I have to. This is not how I will thrive, under a computer screen that tracks your every move, life cannot be so cruel. Isn't it nice to live in such a nomadic way? Tell me, is it Julia? Not finding a suit in one so you live in another. I want to be so much more than what they expect of me. I want to find a purpose beyond the school in the streets. Why would an orphan want to go away in such a place? First the orphanage, now the school. What if I can’t live anywhere? Well, Julia, I have asked myself the same question every day since I arrived here. And all I could say is the orphanage has done the same thing the school has done. It's quite funny I say, Julia,” June chuckled to herself. Partly out of spite or insanity. “ How I anticipated so much to go here but it feels like the Rosemary petals here were burned, dried, and shoved down my throat with jagged nails that scratch the insides. Wow. June one month ago would have screamed at me to burn in hell as I threw away my chance of a better life. But she too, had the same red-eyed inner demons stomp on her thoughts and dance through her dreams. Who am I ranting?” June smirked. Gripped her dark red fountain pen, and stabbed her paper. “WHO AM I RANTING?” She wrote again, and again. She was restless. The screens and monitors got to her. She was insane. June ran through her head once again, even more relentless than she was after she woke. All of the demons in her head hummed in powerful somberness, all in sync. She stared at her colourless hand as it shook, wondering if it were real or not. Her eyes peered into the darkness, attempting to make sense of this madness.

“ What is life for?” She thought. “ I don’t know. What is going on? I don’t know. Why am I like this? I don’t know. 

June shoved the torn letter off of the beige mahogany table along with the pen. Sending it flying on the charcoal-black ground. She stomped to the door and flung it open so hard that it left a round dent on the white wall. She fled through the tall hallways and sharp corners. She twisted with the curvy passages and dragged along the great staircases. All while trying to seek solace. How strange. Why attempt to find solace in something so crazy? Crack. June heard the sound of glass shattering all over the floor. Many awkward years at the orphanage taught her how to recognize the clamour of something expensive spraying everywhere. But the real question is, who else would be running around at half-past-two instead of her? June hurriedly spun around to see remnants of what used to be a singular ceramic pot which seemed to tip off of the beryl box and splatter the newly tiled floor. Goosebumps ran up June's arms. There was no one there except for her. That's when she saw it.

It was one of the most surreal experiences she ever had. Amidst all of the gray smog, she felt an invisible icy chill circulate the figure as it frantically tried to pick up the shards of clay on the floor. An anxiety-prone expression lay on his face, his forehead wrinkled in worry and his teeth sawing away repeatedly. He wasn’t real. But he wasn’t translucent. One smog-like shade of gray coloured his skin. The boy looked human, acted human, and seemed human, but humans are not misty gray and have a strange cocoon over their heads. It levitated right above his head, fog gray likewise to his whole palette. It appeared to have five natural bumps that slightly bounced to the movement of the being. As the blood drained from June’s body, she started to question if she landed into another delirious hallucination. “It must be a tormentful nightmare," she thought. “But terrors are not this real.” June continued to gape at the boy. He wore ragged, dilapidated clothing. A simple shirt which seemed to be in fashion when Jesus still walked the earth, a pair of trousers that barely fit, tied together with a rope. His shoes were ancient and torn. However, it is hard to tell since he was shaded with a pencil. June's heart beat out of her chest. Her face trembled, stumbling back while trying not to take her eyes off of the undead-looking hominoid. As she stepped back farther, she started moving more rapidly backward. Until she slammed into the wall.

 The tiny pound would have gone unnoticed if the hallways filled with several more people chatting, instead of fearing a ghostly boy picking up broken sections of ceramic. He swung his silver head around to see me, hitting me with a great gust of frosty wind, sending shivers down Junes' spine. His irises pierced through her face in dread as he spoke in a beautifully tainted voice.

“ You’re not supposed to see me.” 

June blinked. And he faded away. 

June stared at the now empty hallway with clay still on the floor. She stabbed her fingers into the back of her neck as she shook her head and inflamed her already dilated eyes. No This is not real. I am not real. She pinned herself to the drywall, then slumped to the floor with a Thud of her shins. Her cotton nightdress acts as a cushion to her severity. Her eyes still wider than ever before, she screeched. The horrific noise ached with desperation and I cried with surrender. Although she unequivocally decided that he must have been an allusion, how mad would someone have to be to see him? But he looked so real. I could touch his rosy gray cheeks and he would feel it. June never heard herself wail so loudly in a mellina. She felt the terrible outcry echo across the halls, bouncing off each portrait, vibrating through the early morning. And boy it felt godly. The insanity, confusion, dirtiness, and remorse burned in her throat, tingling her tongue. A fragment of weight standing on her heart, disappeared. All she could do was sob. As she slapped her hands on the chalky tile floor, dropping her head to her knees.  It was a good thing that all of the staff and children rested two stories up, where hardwood doesn't split and crevice. The only thing June could think of was why could she not make it. She thought about what the voice said at the orphanage, what felt like so many years ago. 

“ Let's see how you shatter living the life of a high-society girl.” No. She can’t. She can’t let the demons inside her win. 

“ What would Julia do right now? What would she do? I want her here. I need her here. Julia would tell me, no matter how many boulders debacle on my shoulders…the world is still full of miracles.” June thought, raising her head. “ There will be someone who can see through me. Past my spitefulness, past my demeanour. And if there isn't it won’t make any difference for me. I will power through, and become a whole new person.” June lifted her hands off the ground, then her chest.” Her whole body shook but tried to beam. Her eyes blurred from her lament, her head throbbed from the cries and strains that she endured. But suddenly, a single tear didn’t drop from her chestnut pupils. Everything went quiet. She could stop the uncontrollable waterfall of pain that washed her inside out and back again. She felt her cold hand gently touch her now rosy cheeks that cooked during her burst and she lightly grinned. For the first time, genuinely, with hope for the future and what is more to come. June looked at the surroundings around her once more, nothing changed, the walls still howling with white. The tiles too. The portraits still stared blankly early, with cerulean eyes. Nothing will ever change about her.

“ Um, excuse me? I heard a noise coming from the hallway. Did anything break? Because I can help if you would like.” Somebody heard. A gangly boy with a slender stance and murky brown spectacles that seemed like they splint around the severed curves, stood stiffly along the scribed border of the chalk door frame. He was taller than June. About a shot glass more. Messy, curly, sepia hair sat on his head, while large, thick strands dropped in the way of his glowing light brown face. He bore an evergreen sweatshirt with dishevelled off-white collars peeking out. June could see the shakiness in his voice box as he gestured to move forward. She felt the fear on her skin as she stared at his cinnamon eyes. 

“Oh! Um, I didn’t break anything, but sorry if I disturbed your sleep.” She then glanced at the shattered pot on the tiles and found that the boy was staring at the mosaic too. “Oh, wait! Um, I did break a ceramic pot. Over there.” Turning her head towards the shards, where the ghost-boy used to be. June’s eyes widened. The stiff boy hurriedly stepped over to assist as June gaped. You can’t just let him clean all on his own, he was being so nice. But the ghost boy is there, maybe you can’t see now but it’s still there. She placed her palm on the temples, judging how immature she was acting, and reached up to help him. Her whole body tensed going to the area he once was. It’s probably a hallucination, it’s going to be fine. While the unknown child didn’t dare to lift his chin off the floor, June could sneakily, silently peer at his apprehensive face. The soft beige bags under his eyelids blended into his appraised cheekbones, making the two features seem like one. Thick, circular, eyebrows carve his face, like fluffy bushes. He licked his thin, burgundy lips while placing shattered cracks on the beryl box. His glasses, brown and busted, inscribed something in amber that June carefully squints to read. In dancing cursive, a name was written, Carlos Ospina.

“Carlos.” June breathed involuntarily. 

His eyes twitched at the whisper that he did not mean to heed.

“ I can see you found my name.” He said calmly, pointing his wrinkled finger to the side view of the glasses. June flushed with slight shame but felt pleasant enough to engage in eye-avoidant small talk with a tolerant stranger.

“ Oh, I see. Did your parents name you?” Carlos’ expression was seemingly unfazed and serene but his voice had a dropping level of sorrow and confusion to it.

“ My parents died when I was born. I don’t remember them at all.” With every single sharp edge of clay picked up and arranged on the stand, he began to slowly collect himself and walk towards the saffron yellow door frame. 

“ You should tell him. So he can understand, you two are of the same kith.” June's consciousness jumped at the sound of the statement after such an eventful week, month, or year. However long she has been at the academy. “No. It makes no difference after all. He is a stranger.” 

“ How many strangers made comments about you at the orphanage that you flatly straightened? The straining anguish that fought through you as you said no. “ After a tedious inner skirmish June’s voracious desire to be given a voice got the better of her.

“ My parents also died before I could remember them.” June stumbled, “ I have been in an orphanage ever since I was born too.” Carlos, who faced his spine to her, suddenly spun on the heels of his worn ashy shoes. His voice wasn’t nearly as nonchalant and tranquil as June expected. The sound felt languishing and undecidedly sanguine. He pierced at her eyes and said;

“ Well, I guess you know how it feels then. It's important that people like us look after each other and please let me know if you need help with anything.” He said, while simply striding to the golden doorcase. He smoothly ran his palm down the curved design, looking back at June once more.

“ I’ll be there for you.” The footsteps metallically bonded down the unseen hallway.

The twisting journey back from the corridor was no different than the paths she strides to her daily classes. June saw no immediate variation with her hellish mind. The screams so far cease to exist, but now soften with every tread of her feet, with every beat of her alacritous pulse. Her insane reeling was not something of the past, but yet felt so forgotten. Her morbid cries were a lifetime ago. As she kept on bounding for the next step, the yearning that the boy in the hallway thrusted towards her still pounded June in the head and once more in the eyes. For the second time in an hour, June discovered how blind she used to be, and how just one blink drenched the smog of uncertainty from her convinced pupils. Now with a reborn sense of surety that the only thing blinding her is clouds around her. She, for the first time in her life knows what she wants. 

“ It may take forty schools for me to meet my match. But solace is never again going to be my defence. All those years, burned from aspiring for something more from an institution that will only lay another slab tyranny above me.” June's heart cried after the thought. Remembering the thrill, the prospect, the apprehension, the promise, the desire, the hate and love she poured into herself, poured into Julia, and poured towards her now, aimless aim until she achieved it.

“ No. You can’t. You can’t leave.

“ I could. But will I? ” The question spun and danced around her, strumming her head but stabbing her past, feeling the pangs of guilt every day is something which just felt unbearable. But living through misery, however, shouldn’t be an option too. June swerved the next twisted bend after the grand flight of stairs, the C dormitories. The one where lights still glistened for every hour of the day, June glanced to her left, then her right noticing something for the first time. Although no aspect changed entirely, June could not believe a school so prestigious could have a single flawed element but here it is. 

“ Nothing can last forever. It is strange why I’m finding this so odd. It’s not perceivable at all. But the fragment of imperfection on something that is deemed to be perfect is just hilarious.” June smirked her sarcastic grin, the ends of her lips quickly flicking up and melting down to her face instantly. The colour on the heavy, swinging doors flecked off rapidly. Some of the frames were stripped entirely. Why was she exponentially wiser than before? June didn't care, but the hope of a new light could linger forever. 

June stealthily crept through her dorm door, as if someone was resting peacefully in her bed. Her muddy blue and azure Vans made a weary screech as they bounded on a ruptured tile. June soon kicked them off to the charred and shadowy corner, neighbouring her door. Click she flicked the light switch to reveal a dim, golden-lit room. The reminisce of an hour of solace spread throughout. Papers were shoved off the mahogany bedside table. June’s blue fountain pen was thrown to her feet. She glanced down and warily bent over picking the tool up from the shiny, wooden floor, that she slipped on many times to count. The trusty instrument was still intact, even after she smashed it. June gripped it tightly and walked behind the door frame, she winced at the damage on the wall, the circular dent looking similar to a buried crater, making a profound impact. That meteor must have had a high impact because the wall would never be the same again. Her finger swiped the light switch down as she blindly dragged over to her four-poster bed. Junes' unkept blanket swooned around her floor, like an endless sheet of fresh snow. She lazily picked it up and crawled back under her sheets. Let out a tired sigh, collapsing on her bed once more. 

June woke from a seemingly silent slumber as the pleasant rays of light bounced on the rich green walls, turning them celadon. As she squinted at the blinding light through the window, visible granules serenely floated across the beams. June planted her feet on the tile, just like every day, she needs to commence another beginning. How could it be so harmonious? June thought something must be wrong.

Boom, Boom, Boom. Loud pounds vibrated the ominous door frame, each one louder than the next.  “Of course,” she breathed out a lengthy sigh.  “I’m still here.” The aggravating morning calls are possibly the reason why she’s still going mad. A mighty woman, who June later learned was Mrs. Oxford, who has no relation to Mr. Oxford, rattles June’s entire bed every morning as she strolls down the tempered halls. She recalls the first time she came knocking. June was sound asleep until she heard the blaring punches. She rushed out of her dorm only to see a mature woman in polka dots slamming the other frames. “What a strange place this is,” June murmured disapprovingly. She reached forward, grabbing a maroon pouch, along with her fiery red backpack the orphanage gifted her. It went to war and back with June but managed to stay new. She tossed on her shoes and fled the door, her backpack swish-like clothes over her soft shoulders. As she treaded, June couldn’t help but speculate the distinctive words that spilled out of Carlos, the boy from the hallway’s mouth after he left. “The world is filled with strange people.” As much as June despised this honoured institution, she felt her heart burn from the humanity shown to her by him, and the pain he lives by. “Was he being benevolent, or just feeling sorry for me?” June constantly pondered.                                                       

When she swerved around the corridor to the washroom, June was instantly embraced by Rose. The seat’s salmon, the walls' magenta, and the tile's fuchsia. June couldn’t possibly think a room could be any more pink than this one. The brightness made her dull eyes wince. She donned her pouch on the pink tiles and started brushing her slightly creamy teeth. She stared at her face in the mirror, the bright light unseemly dancing around her. The blotches and flaws felt highlighted on June’s keen perlection as the desolate room echoed her imperfections. After her excruciating brushing, June shoved her wearing, flaking the comb into her compartment of non-material instruments. Running her cleaned hands across her hair, she swung the burdensome door, making it swing briskly and slam. She hurriedly glanced upward at the clock. Seven, on the dot. “Class starts at 7:05.” June fiercely gripped the polyester straps of her backpack, and made a run for it. 

The C dormitories are three flights of grand, swerving staircases and hallways that never fail to confuse June. “I can't be late twice in a row!” She panicked as she dangerously bounded down the steps, two at a time. She zoomed past the luminous dining hall and trod carefully when she passed the authoritarian teachers on their morning summary. June glanced behind her to check for any teachers, and coincidentally, bumped into Jules. She brushed past him and pulled the second door’s handle. 

She may have barged in too belligerently, she soon realized after the entirety of the class swiped their heads like a family of lemurs. June quietly stepped over to the last, coffee-coloured (or stained) desk to slip back down in her chair. 

“June. You’re late. Five minutes late, again. For the second time in a row.” June succumbed to the weight even further. “What do you say?” June perched upright to try to lampoon the instructor with unsuspected valour.

“ I am deeply sorry Mrs. Moriatie, it has been a long night and I promise it won’t happen ag-” 

“You explaining to me why you’re unexcused is like watching paint dry.” Mrs. Moriatie slurred while leisurely striding across the compartment. “It’s useless. You are still five minutes late, and,” she shot a vexed glance at June, “you disrupted the entire class.” June’s heart skipped a beat after the last phrase. She wouldn’t dare to scan across the room for reactions, although she did peek at some of her fellow students. A pale-faced boy with a curly mop of hair snickered with his friend. A girl at the front filled her mouth with uncontrollable laughter, silently chuckling as another mimicked June’s tardiness. June slumped under her desk until she was almost underneath, trying to disappear from the view of the world.

“Even a blind person can see the complicated dynamic between my “mates,” she noted, keeping her down, June sighed vigorously, “It’s okay, just another day in the office. I merely need to find the right apology, no excuses.” 

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Moriatie, it won’t happen again. I promise.” June quietly trembled, growing tomato-red. The room shook with snickers, a dark brown-skinned girl held two blood-red erasers to her cheeks and smirked at June. Her friend beside her desk howled uproariously at the expression, turning her head to laugh at June again. 

“Enough! You are disrupting the class nearly for the whole period! Don’t become as tardy as June!” The class abruptly fell silent, the atmosphere thickening with hushed voices. “Now class, if you would please listen; You are going to be practising the various parts of speech. Grab your backpacks and pull out your English grammar textbook. Cordinia! Please pass out the chalkboards and something to write with.” A tall and slim girl slides up from her seat beside Mrs. Moratie’s desk. Her small, ironed shirt and long pants that start at the stomach made it look as if her legs were endless. She wore her hair in a slicked and high ponytail. As Cordinia passed the charcoal boards, she sneered at June. June glared at her back. Amidst all the chaos, she didn’t even notice her sucking up to Mrs. Moratie. June grabbed her backpack from the back of her blue, plastic chair, akin to the sky. She ripped the zipper open and blindly reached for her textbook, as she opened it, her jaw dropped in shock for what remained. The frail textbook frame dangled precariously from June’s numb, trembling hands. Her body was rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear. Scattered across the floor lay an ocean of charred shredded pages. Her face soon turned nonchalant to utterly perplexed. A few fragments were smoked entirely from the litter, each one carelessly torn. 

“June!” Mrs. Moratie snapped. “What is this bunk!” June started paralyzed, unable to spill words from her mouth. She smirked malicefully, “I guess your compulsive little projects have raided into your backpack.” The entire class roared with laughter, children banged on desks, their fists vibrating the classroom. “This is why nobody wants you, not even them.” She lifted her arm, gesturing to the window, each movement a fresh twist of the knife in June's heart. Her stern face glared disapprovingly, her eyebrows stiffened to a crinkle. ”You need to learn how to be a member of society. And that starts here, office, now!” No. June couldn’t just get told she’s worthless by a slightly higher figure. Mrs. Moraties words already pierced through her, leaving a painful scar of where it once was. 

“I-I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what? Some monster ripped up the paper for you? Leave now! And pick up your mess.” The class erupted with hoots and chants, Her classmates' jeers drowned out everything as she numbly shoved the tattered textbook into her backpack.

Questions swirled in her mind like the remnants of the ruined book. “What is wrong, what’s going on? How did this happen? Why did this happen? It was probably one of those kids, I’m not sure if I locked my door. Or,” June heard Mrs. Moraties voice ring in her head again. “Some monster ripped up the paper for you?” Maybe it did. June's body trembled as her mind flashed to the boy, the grey, ethereal being that “was not supposed to see me” is what it said. “That ghost, it was real. It could have done this.” The phrase echoed cyclically within June's mind, drumming to the beat of her racing heart: "You were not supposed to see me..." She heard it repeatedly. “What if it was that boy? He looked so eerie, I don’t know what to do.”Suppressed tears flooded her eyes as the endless list of outcomes of how the book was shredded. “Was I that dreadful? Would I go that far? It couldn’t be me, could it?” June grabbed the fragments and rubbed them against her fingers. The charred ashes chipped away like dust. “Why is it ashy? How did it burn?” Her mind anguished with silent screams and panicked confusion. As June stuffed her backpack with futile, frayed paper, a minuscule sliver drifted out and softly alighted on the tile. She spotted blurred handwriting, severed and smeared from being crumpled. June drowned out the children's voices as she carefully clutched the ragged paper. She crouched down and squinted mesmerizingly, hoping answers would be in the text. Scuffing the tears away, confusion erupted in her senses after reading.

“It's about to shatter, am I free or dead again?” Am I free or dead? “Again as well…” 

“June! Hurry!” Mrs. Moratie snapped. June held the last shred in her palm, grabbed her backpack, and fled the room. In the adrenaline of it all, June bounded to the end of the hallway, fast enough to crease the blue rug, leisurely enough not to be corrected by the teachers roaming the halls.                                                                                                   

“There are so many strange and inexplicable things happening. What is this institution? It may be myself causing all the trouble, although I’m not very level-headed, I am not as insane as I may configure.” June couldn’t stop thinking about the ghost boy, and the unsettling feeling it left her and Carlos, who mended June's broken bones in only one phrase. “It can’t be a part of the book. Oh, how dare they, or me, destroy it.” June's pulse began to slow as she reached the end of the grand staircase and her thoughts circulated. “No matter what happens, it won't change anything. Except…” June paused, she thought about her forthcoming. “What future I’ll receive. I need to start thinking, who am I in this world?” An orphan, up to no good in a school too bright for her eyes? Or a maniac, trapped for her good? She wondered relentlessly. June faced the burgundy office door, the smell of splintered wood burned her nostrils. “Ambrose Oxford. Headmaster.” The sign in front of her read in bold, silvery lettering. June thought of the words engraved on the paper in her hand, “It's about to shatter, am I free or dead again?” What could it mean? She questioned over again, the deeper she went, the more disconnecting the phrase seemed. 

“June Ki,” a voice called from inside. June turned the golden doorknob, revealing a cluttered desk drowning in papers. The chestnut shelves and beige drawers weathered over the years, held stacks of books that consumed the walls and floor, leaving barely any free space in sight. The sunlight dimly danced around the room, leaving a shadowy glow. On a wooden sepia stool, sat Jules. June noticed his unruly hair, which reached down to his cheeks. He ran his hand through it to tame the disorderly strands. He wore a striped brown jacket with a crooked tie as if he had just run through the forest. June thought of the first time she met her. She overheard the private conversations through the doorway, filled with the resentment of a father trying to force an unwanted future upon his son.

“Listen young man-”                          

“I’m not so young anymore Dad…” Jules gruffed.

“That does not matter. God, how are you so dense? We built all of these walls just for you, we bought this whole damn thing just for you!”

“You never asked me if I wanted it or not!” June heard Mr.Oxford’s sighs through the room. 

“Listen, son. I don’t think you understand how important this is,” he paused. “You and your future, okay?” Jules fumed silently. “You are not going to Glenn Gould.”

“You’re right! I’m not going to Glenn, I’m applying to Oxford or McGill. Once I leave, you’ll understand.” 

“No, Never. I can’t let you throw away your future like that.”

“No Dad…”

“What did you just say?”

“I said no!” Jules snapped. “This dung is not for my future. It's not what's best for me! It’s what's best for you.” He said icily.                                      

“Best for me!” Mr. Oxford roared half mockingly. “Well, appreciate that I have done this garbage anyway!” June could feel Jules's voice freeze. There was a long pause before Jules coldly mumbled something incoherently, his voice cleared as June pressed herself against the door.

“You're exploiting me for your life’s work. It's your job to keep this place alive, not mine.” He whispered. As June heard footsteps stomping, she rushed to the mahogany cushioned chair. June felt as if she walked through his whole life story but knew even less than she does now. And why then? During a midday session with a new student. The more stories she heeded, the more of a stranger he became. The door swung open, the handle bouncing off the wall. June immediately glanced towards the floor as he walked in. His feet paced toward the chair as he plummeted down. Apart from the burden of his father, June sensed something weighing him down. The atmosphere thickened, and she stared into oblivion. 

“Okay, now this is your elective schedule. Understand?” June nods. As Jules rambled about her rigorous academic schedule, her mind wandered elsewhere. “Is this what it is—a thrown-around shelter for your son?” June thought about Mr. Oxford and his words. “Is this just a cage for him? Am I helping a monster?”  “June.” 

“Oh, um yes?”  

“Here's all your papers and keys, I look forward to meeting you.” He handed her a jingling set of iron safeties and a small stack of laminated tables. “Five schedules?” June thought. 

“Thank you, you too.” She slowly yanked them away and treaded out of the room. 

“Now, I wonder what happened here.” June was suddenly pulled back into the present, her eyes twitching realizing why she was there. Jules gestured for her to sit in the same leather chair all those weeks ago. June grabbed her backpack, fiddling with it. 

“What happened?” June stared wide-eyed, everything came flooding back again. She didn’t know where to start, she tripped over her words wondering what was best to articulate. Jules raised his eyebrows steadily in question. 

“Well, um, I’m sorry. Sir?” June mentally face-palmed herself. “Sir! What is wrong with you? You sound like you had a seizure!” June uneasily paused in tension. “It was an accident, I promise it won't happen again.” Followed by silence, truckloads of it. Jules sighed, 

“I didn’t tell you to apologize, can you just tell me what happened?” June stared out the window, lost in thought. 

“I didn’t do anything wrong. I opened my backpack and shards of paper came out. That's it. It was not me, it never was.” Jules observed her piercingly, June could tell his mind was searching for any hint that she was fibbing. “Weeks detention.”  He said. “What? That can't be right.” June furrowed her cocoa colour eyebrows at him. She was so distraught of how he sent her without reason or the abrupt conversation, that she forgot to leave the room at cue. “No, I do not want to spend the rest of my free day sitting in a deserted office.” As June read the Cambridge Dictionary weeks deep into the first terms of fall, the leaves poured opaque shades of cardinal and brunt hue, June stuck inside at her third English re-reading the definition of a detention. Her eyes quenched at the meaning and smirked at the misconception of what happens at Rosemary. “Here at Rosemary, we strive for nothing less of perfection.” The Headmistress's voice boomed in her ear like a mantra. “Detention, noun, a short period where a student stays after class for any misbehaviour.” June’s heart panged, striving for perfection takes sacrifice, and overworked wealthy children came far from aloof compared to detentions. The “short period” for Rosemary students ends at eleven-thirty, at night, with no exceptions, just the luminous moon glow and seven and a half hours of sulking at a wooden desk, forbidden to rise except for washroom breaks. June wouldn’t brood for the rest of the week, especially for something she didn’t do.

“Um, don’t you think that’s too harsh?” Jules raised his eyebrows in response. 

“What do you mean?”

“I said I didn’t do anything wrong but you still send me.” Jules stared blankly;

“You destroyed a school textbook. It can’t be anyone else who did it. The fragments were in your backpack tell my oth-.” He ceased as if a waterfall of insight flooded through his veins. June found that now was her time to speak.

“ Listen, whatever you’re doing has been hard for you. They have you wretched like this god - damn system that we step foot on but now, you’re acting like your father. Constant interrogation won't change the fact I didn't do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything so wrong so I will not receive this week's detention. I’m saying this because I know the camera behind your bookshelf is now in your dustbin and you stopped wearing your ties as proper as you used to. You’re not doing what's best for this school right now, you’re doing what’s best for you.”  As June uttered words she couldn't recall, her stomach churned uneasily as Jules stared at her in shock, as if suddenly realizing he was as spiteful as the rest.

“I shouldn’t tell you this but my-”

“I know about your dad, he will understand once you’re gone” Jules was shocked for a second;

“How did you know- Oh, when I was doing the electives.” His green eyes twinkled. “You were not supposed to hear that, clever.” June was taken aback, she had never been called clever before, nor by Julia also, her heart panged with guilt of her name. June's eyes gaped and widened at the vision of her. “How have I forgotten about her already?” She silently panicked, “I told her I will always remember her, am I a traitor? To myself or her?” Jules eyed concerned;

“Are you okay?” He croaked wearingly.