Hers From The Start: A Collection of First In Series Reverse Harem

by Laura Greenwood

  “Hmm, hi.” I lift my hand in a small hello and slip past her.

  “Come on,” she says, joining me. “Everyone else is here. I’ll introduce you.”

  Before I can tell her it’s fine, that I’ll just blend in, Amalia clears her throat and ushers the room into silence. “Everyone, meet Terra. Terra, this is everyone.” I’m almost knocked back by the chorus of greetings, and a couple of girls approach us, introducing themselves as Claire and Mischa.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” rolls off my tongue, because what else is there to say? I’m sure they don’t want to know how uncomfortable I feel. And they’re so warm and smiley and welcoming like Amalia. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.

  “We’re just getting started. Come on,” Mischa says, leading me to a cluster of chairs and bean bags. The room is a large rectangle, taking up most of the ground floor of the Earhart Building. Painted in pale lavender, one wall is covered in college posters and announcements, while there’s a vending machine, and a counter with a coffee maker and mini-fridge on the other. In the middle, is a haphazard arrangement of seating, and a group of about twelve girls all looking at me.

  “Is this everyone?” I whisper to Amalia. From my calculations, the building houses at least twenty girls but I’ve kept a low profile up until now, only passing girls on the way to and from the bathroom.

  “Most of us,” she shrugs dismissively, taking a seat on one of the leather cubes. I take a pink plastic chair beside her, tucking my hands underneath my thighs, keeping my eyes on the floor.

  “As you all know, every year the six dorms on campus are pitched against one another in the fall Prank Wars.” Amalia pauses for a beat, a mischievous smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. “For those of you not familiar with this tradition, from now until Thanksgiving weekend, we’ll duke it out for the title of Prank Champ.”

  “Prank Wars?” The words fall from my lips before I can stop them, and I clap my hand over my mouth. But it’s too late, and from the way all eyes slide from Amalia to me, I know they all heard.

  “You do know what a prank is, right?” The voice belongs to Jesse. Unlike the other girls, who look at me with a mix of confusion and pity, her eyes glower at me, her thinly plucked brows arched in amusement.

  “Yes,” I clear my throat, rolling back my shoulders. Something about her makes me want to stand tall instead of shrinking into myself like my usual MO. “I know what a prank is. But isn’t it a little childish?”

  This is college. We’re practically adults.

  Amalia chuckles, flicking silky dark hair off her shoulder. “It’s fun, Terra. Atchison is big on tradition and this is just one of them. Besides, the dorm crowned Prank Champs get awarded extra money to improve their dorm building.”

  “The college supports this?”

  Jesse and a couple of other girls groan, obviously annoyed by all my questions. But I still don’t fully understand.

  “As long as we stay within the rules, the college see it as a dose of healthy, creative competition.”

  There are more questions on the tip of my tongue, but Amalia bends down and lifts a box onto her lap. “Okay, tonight we need to come up with some prank ideas. We’ll all take a piece of paper and write down one idea and add it to the box. Next meeting, I’ll compile a list and we’ll take a vote.”

  The girls nod their heads and someone hands around slips of paper, and pens. One by one they come forward, placing their slips into the box.

  “Terra?” Amalia says, and I meet her expectant gaze. “Do you have an idea?”

  “I…” Everyone is watching, waiting for me to write something. Feeling the pressure, I quickly scribble the first thing that comes to mind and push it into the hole.

  “Good. Last year, we just lost out to Allender.”

  “Those guys kill it every year.” A girl with tight spiral curls shakes her head. “But last year was ridiculous. They out-pranked every other dorm.”

  “Yeah, well,” Jesse speaks up, “with Sol Ericson on their side, what do you expect? That guy is something else.”

  “And don’t forget about Cael Cormack. The guy likes to play it cool, but he’s practically a genius.” Two girls nod in agreement.

  The mention of Cael sends my stomach into a tailspin. It might not be my Cael—I mean, the Cael I went to coffee with—but what are the chances? Besides, from the dreamy expressions on the girls' faces, it must be him.

  “Okay, okay.” Amalia slides her hands over the box. “Let’s bring it back in. Allender are good, yes, but we can be better. I just know it.”

  “Damn right we can,” Jesse pounds her fist against her thigh. “Those self-absorbed cocksuckers need to go down.”

  “Jesse.” Amalia’s eyes narrow on the dark-haired pixie who flashes her a contrived smile. It’s all teeth and malice, and I realize I’m so out of my league here. Most of these girls know each other—they’re friends or, at least, dorm mates. They understand the nuances of dorm life, college life. Me, on the other hand, I’m as clueless as they come. And I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into.

  The room breaks out in a flurry of activity. Some girls shuffle their chairs and launch into prank war plans while others help themselves to drinks and snacks from the mini-fridge.

  “Terra?” Amalia’s voice pulls me back to her and I smile.

  “Yes?”

  “I hope that wasn’t too overwhelming. Sorry if I threw you in at the deep end.”

  “It’s fine,” I say knowing my expression probably betrays my words.

  “I know it sounds kind of lame, but Prank Wars is actually one of the highlights of my whole year.”

  “You’re a senior, right?”

  “Yes, this is my final year.”

  “I’ll take your word for it then.” It comes out snarkier than I intend.

  “So, hey, I was hoping you might want to hang out? After the meeting gets done, I mean?” Her eyes twinkle something I don’t understand.

  “You were?”

  She smiles again, and it’s so warm, so familiar, I can’t help but say, “Okay.”

  “Yes! I have something to show you.”

  Half an hour later, I’m trailing behind Amalia as we follow the path away from our dorm and past the main student buildings “So where is this place again?”

  She casts me a sideways glance as I catch up, falling in step beside her. “It’s not much further, you’ll see.”

  The wind howls around us and I shrink into my lightweight jacket. “Where did this come from?” she asks, and I pause, her words sinking in. She’s right. There wasn’t so much as a breeze when we left the dorm building. Peeking over my shoulder, my eyes strain against the shadows. Campus looks eerie at night. The tree branches loom overhead like pointed fingers. Searching. Clawing. A shiver rolls up my spine and I hug my jacket tighter.

  “Come on, we’re almost there,” her voice jolts me into action and I hurry to her side, but I can’t shake the strange feeling.

  The feeling I’m being followed.

  True to her word, after a couple more minutes we arrive in front of a small building. I recognize it from my exploration of campus, but from the looks of the splintered door and dirty windows, it hasn’t been in use for a really long time.

  “What is this place?” I ask as she takes the steps up to the door. I linger back, though, my eyes mesmerized by the shadows dancing across the wall. A blast of ice zips through me and I snap out of it, blinking at Amalia who’s staring at me with a strange look on her face.

  “The old drama building. It’s mostly used for storage now but sometimes we use it to rehearse after hours. The caretaker leaves it open for us.”

  “Are you sure it’s okay for us to go in there?” My eyes do another sweep of the building. Pitched in darkness it doesn’t look like anyone’s inside, but the amused curve of Amalia’s mouth eases the knot in my stomach. “It’s fine, I promise,” she says. “Harry is the caretaker’s nephew.”

  “Harry?”
/>
  She jogs back down the steps and holds out her hand. “Stop worrying. Do you trust me?”

  “I—” Hesitation lingers on my tongue. I have no reason to distrust her—she’s a senior and the dorm rep and has been nothing but nice to me—but I can’t extinguish the little seed of doubt. And the shadows, well, they look real. Inky black things swirling over the building, sentinels protecting whatever’s inside and keeping trespassers like me and Amalia out.

  Shaking the thoughts away, I return her smile and slip my hand into hers. “Okay, let’s go.”

  The door swings open with a whoosh, and silence greets us when we step inside. It’s dark but Amalia came prepared, switching on the small flashlight in her hand. “I think you’re going to like Harry,” she says. “He’s a junior but Atchison is practically his second home.”

  I’m too busy trying not to choke on my nerves to pay her any attention. Hand in hand we move further down the dark hallway, our footsteps echoing off the walls. “Why don’t they use this place anymore?”

  “It’s been out of commission since before I came here.” Amalia doesn’t expand, and I don’t ask because the low murmur of voices catches my attention.

  “And here,”—Amalia stops before a door and switches off the flashlight, dangling it on her wrist—“we are.”

  She pushes it open and a stream of amber light illuminates her face. I follow her into the vast room. It’s an auditorium, or was, when the building was in use. Steeped seating arranged in sweeping arcs overlooks a stage.

  “Come on,” Amalia says making her way down the steps.

  But I’m frozen in place. Unable to comprehend what I’m seeing. Hooded figures stand around a circle marked with candles. Five, in total. And I realize now, that the sounds I’d heard outside in the hallway, weren’t chatter but chanting.

  “Terra, what’s wrong?”

  My head snaps to Amalia who’s watching me, her brows pinched together. “What is this?” I ask, unable to disguise the tremor undulating my voice.

  “We’re celebrating Lammas.”

  “Lammas?”

  “Yeah, you know, the celebration of the first grain harvest.” She offers me an encouraging smile, but my eyes flick past her back to the circle beneath us. When I settle my gaze back on Amalia’s face, her smile slips into a grimace. “Surely you know what Lammas is?”

  When I press my lips together and arch my eyebrow, her eyes widen with panic. “Oh,” she breathes out. “I just thought... I mean, I assumed. Oh.” She runs a hand through her long silky hair.

  “Amalia, what’s happening right now?”

  “But I felt it, felt you.” I don’t know if her words are meant for me, or herself, but either way they do little to ease the knot in my stomach.

  “Felt me? Felt me how?”

  She’s pacing now in a short line. Back and forth. Back and forth.

  “Amalia, what do you mean, you felt me?”

  Slowly, she stops, and I wait. Some part of me, deep inside, knows what she’s about to say and yet, my head already refuses to accept it.

  “I felt your power, Terra.”

  “My power.” I roll the word around on my tongue.

  “You really have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

  My stomach tightens, the blood in my veins turning icy. “I- I need to go.” I stumble back and hit a desk. The noise echoes around the high ceilings and the chanting stops.

  “Terra,” Amalia calls but I’m already moving, palms tracing the line of the walls, guiding my way through the maze of dark hallways. “Terra, wait.”

  I pick up the pace, breaking into a gentle jog, my eyes straining against the darkness. Then I see it, a sliver of light. Pushing my legs harder, I follow it, hoping it’s the way out. Relief rushes into me when the door looms up ahead, and I don’t think as I hurtle my body forward and tumble out, breathless and dazed. And I don’t look back as I take the path back to my dorm.

  6.

  I leave the dorm early to avoid bumping into Amalia, but when I step outside, I almost run straight into Cael. “Good morning to you, too.” He rights himself and I move back putting some space between us.

  “Cael.” My fingers curl around my backpack strap. “What are you doing here?”

  “I figured you might be heading to Beans.”

  “You did?”

  “I can go, if you didn’t want—”

  “No,” I rush out. “Actually, you read my mind. I’m just surprised, is all.”

  “Surprised?” His brows furrow, and it’s on the tip of my tongue to mention yesterday, but instead, I hitch my strap up my shoulder and smile.

  “It doesn’t matter. Now how about that coffee?”

  Beans is quieter this morning and I have the pick of tables but choose the same one as yesterday. Something about the view of campus calls to me, and I drop into the armchair, waiting for Cael. The line moves quick and before I know it, two cups are placed on the table in front of me and the rich aroma of coffee fills the air.

  “So, Terra Materson, how was your first day of classes?”

  I take a quick sip from my cup and sink into the chair. “It was okay, I think.” I leave out the part where Amalia lured me to the abandoned building. And it occurs to me, maybe it was a prank. She seemed pretty excited by it. Maybe she thought she’d ease me in first.

  “You think?”

  “I mean, I probably need a couple more days to make an informed opinion.”

  “Touché.” He grins, and my stomach goes crazy. I find myself grinning back. It’s difficult not to when his playfulness is so infectious.

  “I have a question for you, actually.”

  “You do?” He shifts forward, anticipation dancing in his eyes. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “Are you…” I pause for a beat; it’s unlike me to be so forward but something about him puts me at ease. As if I could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge me. “Cael Cormack?”

  “Who wants to know?” he whispers, glancing around conspiratorially.

  “Only me.” I match his tone and he smirks. And if I thought his smile was something, the lift in his mouth is positively breathtaking.

  His eyes sparkle as he adds, “Well, in that case, Cael Cormack at your service.” He pulls off his beanie—today's is pale green—ruffles his hair and bows his head. I struggle to contain the laughter building in my throat. There’s just something so endearing about him. Even if he did technically dodge the awkward moment outside of the Malcolm Building yesterday, I’m drawn to him.

  We sit in comfortable silence, watching students come and go. The weather is already changing, the edges of the leaves beginning to crisp with shades of orange and brown, marking the arrival of fall.

  “So, I hear we’re technically arch-enemies now?” I say after I drain my coffee.

  “We are?” He drags a hand over his jaw.

  “Prank Wars?”

  His reaction isn’t one I expect, and I chew my bottom lip, wishing I could take back the words.

  “Cael?” I ask when he doesn’t reply. He’s staring at me, his eyes fixed on my mouth. Burning with something that makes my heart gallop in my chest.

  A loud crash somewhere in the coffee shop startles us, breaking the connection, and he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “Prank Wars is kind of lame.”

  “It is? I got the impression it was a big deal on campus.”

  Cael shrugs but offers no explanation, and I go back to looking out the window trying to figure out what just happened.

  “What class do you have first?” he finally breaks the awkward silence, and I dig out my schedule and double check.

  Crap. In my haste to get out of the dorm, I’d failed to realize my first class is with Professor Klaxon... and Ross.

  “Terra, what is it?”

  “N- nothing.” I carefully fold the paper and stuff it into my pocket. “I have Nature of Mind first.”

  “Nice. We probably should get moving. I don�
��t want to make you late.”

  “Okay?”

  I don’t know why it comes out as a question. But Cael is already moving. After cleaning our table, he grabs his backpack. “Ready?”

  With a little nod, I push past him and make my way outside. He’s so hot and cold. One minute I feel pulled toward him, drawn to his smile and infectious personality. The next, he pushes me out and I feel like a burden he somehow feels responsible for.

  I don’t know why, but as we walk side by side, a little voice in my head whispers, maybe this is just how it is.

  I arrive early for Professor Klaxon’s class, breathing a sigh of relief there’s no sign of Ross. After the way he fled yesterday’s class, I’m not sure partnering together for our assignment is the best idea. Maybe I can find someone else to work with. Scanning the room, my eyes land on a girl sitting on her own and I make a beeline in her direction. Just as I reach her row, two girls sit down and the three of them break out into chatter paying me no attention.

  Okay then. Maybe finding another partner won’t be so easy.

  Moving to an empty seat at the back of the room, I pull out a notebook and pen and wait for class to begin. I feel Ross before I see him. The sharp tug in my stomach startling me. I’m used to the trees, plants or earth calling me, but this is new. I’ve never reacted to people this way, but then, I haven’t been around people in a really long time.

  He slides into the seat beside me, not bothering to say hello, and I sigh quietly to myself. Professor Klaxon is ready to start, and I lean forward, trying to ignore the urge to look at whatever Ross is scribbling in his notebook.

  “Good morning, class. Yesterday, I introduced the course. Today, we dive into the real stuff. Thales said, ‘the most difficult thing in life, is to know yourself’. In studying nature of the mind, we’ll be exploring…” he talks in fluid sentences, pacing the front of the room, stopping to make eye contact with those sitting in the front rows. He’s been talking for about five minutes when something lands on my desk, distracting me.

  I pick up the folded triangle, smoothing it out until I can read the words.