Page 15 of First Echo

MADELINE

I still couldn't believe that Brooke hadn't woken me up until the last possible minute.

I mean, who does that? I probably looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge backward—my hair tangled from sleep, my face bare of makeup, still wearing my ski clothes from earlier.

A quick glance in the mirror confirmed my fears: my carefully cultivated image was completely ruined.

We walked to dinner in silence, the tension between us almost tangible.

I kept a few steps ahead of her, trying to minimize the chance of anyone seeing us together.

It wasn't that I was embarrassed to be seen with her—or at least, that's what I told myself.

It was more that I didn't want to deal with Victoria's pointed stares or Julian's insufferable commentary.

The dining hall was already crowded when we arrived, the noise level rising with each group that filed in.

Long wooden tables stretched across the room, covered with checkered tablecloths that gave the place a rustic, homey feel.

Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow over everything.

The smell of hearty mountain food filled the air—something rich and savory that I couldn't quite identify.

Mr. Sinclair stood at the front, checking names off his list as students entered. He gave me a nod as I walked past, his expression suggesting mild surprise that I'd actually made it on time. I pretended not to notice.

Victoria waved me over to a table where she sat with Audrey, Sophie, Julian, and Sam. I slid into the empty seat beside Sam, grateful for his steady, comforting presence. He leaned over, giving my shoulder a light squeeze.

"Nice of you to join us looking like that," Julian teased, gesturing to my disheveled appearance.

I shot him a glare. "Shut up, Julian."

Victoria examined me with critical eyes. "You could have at least brushed your hair, Mads. What happened to you?"

"I fell asleep after we got back," I said with a shrug, trying to sound casual. "Lost track of time."

Sam grinned. "Did you have a good nap at least? You were pretty worn out after those last runs."

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Brooke make her way to an empty table in the far corner of the room. She sat down alone, pulling out her phone as if to shield herself from the reality of her solitude.

Something twisted in my chest, an uncomfortable feeling I didn't want to examine too closely. I turned back to Sam, forcing a smile. "Something like that."

The conversation flowed around me—Julian and Sam discussing which runs they wanted to try tomorrow, Victoria complaining about the cold, Audrey and Sophie debating which ski instructor was cuter.

I nodded at all the right moments, made noncommittal sounds when questions were directed my way, but found my thoughts continuously drifting.

Brooke was eating quickly, methodically, her eyes fixed on her plate or her phone.

Every so often, she'd tuck a strand of hair behind her ear in that unconscious gesture I'd noticed before.

She looked so completely alone, yet somehow at peace with it, as if the noise and chaos of the dining hall couldn't touch her.

"Earth to Madeline," Sam said, waving a hand in front of my face. "You with us?"

I blinked, pulling my attention back to the table. "Sorry, what?"

Julian snickered. "Someone's a million miles away tonight. What's got you so distracted, sis? Plotting revenge on your roommate for making you look like a mess at dinner?"

My cheeks warmed. "No, I'm just tired. What were you saying?"

Sam repeated whatever it was he'd been telling me about tomorrow's plans, and I tried to focus, I really did.

But my gaze kept wandering back to Brooke's corner.

Except this time, when I looked, her table was empty.

Her tray was gone, her presence vanished from the dining hall.

When had she left? I hadn't noticed her get up, hadn't seen her walk out.

For some reason, this bothered me. Where had she gone?

Back to our room? Out exploring on her own?

"Madeline, hello? Earth to Madeline!" Victoria's sharp voice cut through my thoughts.

I looked up to find everyone at the table staring at me. "Sorry, what?"

Victoria rolled her eyes dramatically. "I said, we're going out to explore town a bit and maybe hit up a bar. So let's go."

The others were already standing, collecting their things, excitement buzzing between them at the prospect of sneaking into one of the local bars with their fake IDs.

On any other night, I would have been the first one ready to go, eager for the adventure, the change of scenery, the chance to do something a little rebellious and completely fun.

But tonight, for reasons I couldn't quite articulate even to myself, I hesitated.

"Actually, I think I'm going to pass," I heard myself saying, ignoring the chorus of surprised protests that immediately followed. "I'm pretty tired from today. I think I need an early night."

"Seriously?" Julian looked at me like I'd grown a second head. "Since when do you, of all people, need an 'early night'?"

"Since today," I shot back, not wanting to explain the strange restlessness I couldn't shake. "Besides, I need to be rested for tomorrow."

Sam looked concerned. "Do you want me to stay back with you? We could watch a movie in the lounge or something."

The offer was tempting, but I shook my head. "No, you go have fun. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" His green eyes searched mine, and for a moment I felt a pang of guilt, like I was somehow betraying him by wanting to be alone.

"I'm sure," I said, stretching up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "Go. Have fun. Tell me all about it tomorrow."

After a few more protests and promises to text, they finally left, their voices echoing in the hallway as they headed for the exit. I sat for a moment longer at the empty table, surrounded by dirty dishes and half-empty glasses, feeling strangely hollow.

The walk back to my room felt longer than it had earlier, the corridors emptier, the silence more profound. I kept my pace measured, not rushing but not dawdling either, my mind spinning with thoughts I couldn't quite wrangle into coherence.

When I reached room 217, I hesitated outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob. What was I expecting to find inside? Why did the prospect of entering fill me with such an odd mixture of anticipation and dread?

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

The room was dimly lit, with just the small bedside lamp casting a soft golden glow over Brooke's side.

She was propped up against her pillows, a book open in her hands.

It was old and worn-looking, the spine cracked from repeated reading, the pages yellowed with age.

She glanced up when I entered, her expression guarded.

"You're back early," she said, her tone carefully neutral.

I shrugged, dropping my key on the dresser and kicking off my shoes. "Yeah, well, I wasn't really in the mood for whatever bar-hopping adventure the others had planned."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical, but said nothing, returning her attention to her book.

The silence stretched between us, not quite uncomfortable but not entirely easy either.

I grabbed my pajamas and headed to the bathroom, changing quickly and then busying myself with my nighttime routine, washing my face, applying my various serums and creams, brushing my teeth until they gleamed.

All the while, I was acutely aware of Brooke's presence just a few feet away, quietly turning pages, existing in her own little world.

When I emerged from the bathroom, she was still reading, completely absorbed.

I studied her for a moment, taking in the slight furrow of concentration between her brows, the way her fingers delicately turned each page, the small, almost imperceptible smile that sometimes flitted across her lips in response to something she'd read.

"What are you reading that's so fascinating?" I asked finally, unable to contain my curiosity any longer.

She looked up, seeming almost surprised that I was still there. "Oh, it's just... a fantasy novel. Nothing you'd be interested in."

There was something in her tone, a defensiveness that piqued my interest even further. "Try me," I challenged, sitting on the edge of my bed facing her.

She hesitated, her grip on the book tightening slightly.

"It's called 'The Shadow Realms.' It's about a girl who discovers she can travel between parallel worlds.

Each world is like a different version of our own, with its own rules and dangers.

She has to learn to navigate them all while trying to find her way back home. "

"God, that sounds boring," I said, the words coming out before I could stop them. "Is that really what you'd rather be doing than going out and having actual fun? Reading about some fake girl's adventures instead of having your own?"

I regretted the words immediately, watching as her face fell, something flickering in her eyes that looked almost like pain before hardening into anger.

"Not everyone thinks getting drunk with a bunch of shallow idiots is the definition of fun," she snapped, closing her book with more force than necessary.

"At least I'm not so boring that I sit alone in a hotel room reading on a ski trip," I shot back, stung by her dismissal of my friends. "Do you even know how to have a good time, or is your idea of excitement getting to the end of a chapter?"

She laughed, a short, bitter sound that held no humor. "You don't know the first thing about me or what I find exciting. But sure, go ahead and judge me based on your narrow definition of what's cool or fun. That's what people like you do best, isn't it?"

"People like me?" I repeated, my voice rising slightly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"People who think their way is the only way," she said, her voice tight with restrained emotion. "People who judge others for being different, for finding joy in things they don't understand. For having the audacity to exist outside their little bubble of acceptability."

Her words hit harder than they should have, striking some chord deep inside me that I didn't want to examine too closely.

"You think you're so superior, don't you?

With your books and your perfect grades and your little judgments about everyone else.

At least I know how to connect with actual people instead of fictional characters. "

Something flashed in her eyes then, a raw vulnerability that made me falter for just a moment. She clutched the book tighter, like it was something precious, something more than just paper and ink.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," she said, her voice tight with emotion. "Not everything has to be loud and public to be meaningful."

The implication hung in the air between us—that I was too shallow, too self-absorbed to understand deeper connections. It stung, partly because it wasn't entirely untrue.

"Whatever," I said finally, unable to think of a better response. "At least I'm not using a book to hide from real life."

She looked at me for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. Then, without another word, she placed the book carefully on her nightstand, turned off her lamp, and rolled over, her back to me in a clear dismissal.

The room plunged into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the blinds. I stood frozen, a strange heaviness settling in my chest. I'd won the argument, technically—she'd been the one to retreat, to turn away first. So why did it feel like I was the one who had lost something?

I slipped under my covers and stared at the ceiling, listening to the sound of Brooke's breathing across the room. It wasn't the even rhythm of sleep, but rather the carefully controlled pattern of someone trying very hard to appear calm when they weren't.

Something nagged at me, something about the way she'd reacted, the hurt that had flashed across her face before anger replaced it.

A memory stirred—something Julian had mentioned once about the weird quiet girl whose mom had died a few years back.

Was that Brooke? Was I missing something important here?

The thought made me uneasy, like I'd stepped into deeper water than I realized.

"Brooke?" I ventured quietly into the darkness. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to—"

"I'm fine," came the flat response, no emotion coloring the words. "Just drop it."

I swallowed hard, an unfamiliar feeling of discomfort washing over me. "Look, I'm sorry about what I said. About the book. I didn't realize it was important to you."

The silence stretched so long I thought she might not respond at all. Finally, she sighed, the sound barely audible in the quiet room.

"Whatever. Just go to sleep, Madeline."

I lay there in the darkness, wondering how I always seemed to say the exact wrong thing to her, how every interaction ended with one of us hurt or angry or both.

It was exhausting, this constant back and forth, this endless dance of advance and retreat.

And yet, I couldn't seem to stop myself from engaging with her, from pushing her buttons, from trying to get past that careful wall of indifference she maintained.

As sleep finally began to claim me, one thought kept circling in my mind: why did I care so much about what Brooke Winters thought of me? Why couldn't I just ignore her, like I did everyone else who didn't matter in my carefully constructed social hierarchy?

The question followed me into my dreams, unanswered and unsettling, like a shadow I couldn't quite shake.