Page 5 of First Echo
brOOKE
T his was the only day I seriously considered skipping school .
Thursday. The day I dreaded, the day I had to tutor Madeline Hayes.
My alarm blared at its usual time, but instead of rolling out of bed and preparing for the day with my usual sense of responsibility, I just laid there, eyes shut, willing time to stand still.
My mind had spent half the night spinning out possibilities for how badly this could all go.
In some of those anxious scenarios, I endured Madeline’s relentless ridicule until I finally burst into tears and fled; in others, I shouted at her, my frustration morphing into a moment of angry humiliation.
I’d only slept for about four hours, and my body groaned in protest when I finally forced myself to climb out of bed.
I dragged my feet to the bathroom, turning on the shower in hopes the warm water would rinse away my nerves.
Steam filled the air, fogging the mirror.
I tried to calm myself with a few deep breaths, but my stomach still tensed at the thought of facing Madeline this afternoon—at her house, of all places.
When I got downstairs, I could barely eat breakfast. My appetite was as absent as my courage.
My dad shot me a concerned look, but I waved him off with a tight smile.
I couldn’t explain that I was freaking out because today I had to tutor the most intimidating, entitled person in school.
Sometimes I wonder if other people overthink things as much as I do.
Maybe my dad had his own worries, but he was probably too busy to notice mine, and in that moment, I was grateful for the lack of interrogation.
Has Madeline thought about today? If she did, it was probably only for a split second, maybe just enough to remember I was supposed to show up.
She likely didn’t lose any sleep over it, certainly not the way I did.
Who am I kidding? She might have even forgotten I exist, let alone that we’re meeting.
That realization brought a twinge of annoyance I couldn’t quite shake.
The school day felt like it dragged on for an eternity, each hour crawling forward while the dread in my chest coiled tighter.
I sat in chemistry class—ironically the very subject causing all this trouble—trying to focus, but my brain was stuck on the same endless loop: Madeline, tutoring, her mansion, my potential humiliation.
Even my favorite subject couldn’t distract me from the tension gnawing at my thoughts.
Eventually, the final bell rang, and the moment I’d been dreading arrived.
I had to make my way to Madeline’s house.
I walked briskly out of the school, ignoring a couple of acquaintances who tried to wave me over to chat.
I just gave them a nod and hurried to my car.
Once I was settled in the driver’s seat, I tried putting on some music to calm me down—a soft, acoustic track that usually soothed my nerves.
But my heartbeat still hammered with anticipation.
During the drive, I found my mind drifting into a bizarre mix of fear and…
excitement? It was so strange, so illogical, that I almost wanted to shake myself.
What could possibly be exciting about tutoring Madeline?
Maybe the unknown always sparked a little adrenaline.
Or maybe I was just plain nervous, and it was twisting itself into something else.
The entire way, I kept tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally peering into the rearview mirror to see if I appeared as anxious as I felt.
The roads were mostly empty, a bit of a blessing, so at least I didn’t have to battle through traffic.
After about fifteen minutes of driving past large, well-manicured lawns, I reached the imposing iron gate that guarded Madeline’s property.
That gate itself was probably bigger than my entire garage. I paused, taking a deep breath, then rolled down my window to press the bell. A static crackle buzzed through the intercom before an unmistakably haughty voice filtered through.
“ Who is this? ” Madeline asked, and even through the small speaker, I could detect her bored, dismissive tone.
I blinked in disbelief. She told me to come, and now she’s acting like she doesn’t know me? That’s precisely the sort of thing that drove me nuts about her. “ It’s me, Brooke, ” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice.
“ Who? ”
I felt my annoyance sharpen. Did she have some short-term memory problem, or was she just messing with me? “ Brooke Winters, your new chemistry tutor, ” I repeated, more agitated this time.
Silence lingered on the other side of the intercom, and I felt my stomach churn.
But then, mercifully, the gate began to open with a metallic groan.
I drove in slowly, marveling at the absurdly long driveway.
The gravel crunched under my tires, and the entire path radiated wealth and perfection.
I knew she lived in a big house, but this was a full-on mansion.
The fountain in the center of the circular drive sparkled with water jets spraying gracefully into the air.
It was so ornate, I half expected marble statues or cherubs to be perched along its edge.
The neatly trimmed hedges were shaped with surgical precision, and perfectly symmetrical rows of flowers flanked either side of the driveway.
Everything looked meticulously maintained, as though an entire team of gardeners spent hours ensuring a single twig never fell out of place.
Even the house itself, with its huge arched windows and grand columns, seemed to boast its superiority.
I couldn’t help but feel like I was stepping into a movie set.
And in that instant, I felt smaller, more insecure.
I adjusted the rearview mirror again, checking if I had any stray hairs or smudged eyeliner.
I doubted Madeline would notice or care, but I still wanted to avoid appearing sloppy.
As I got closer to the end of the driveway, I finally caught sight of Madeline standing in the open doorway of her mansion.
She wore a casual but stylish outfit—leggings that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and a fitted top that matched her sleek ponytail.
Her posture was relaxed, yet there was something about the way she rested her hand on the doorframe that gave off that vibe.
She was the reigning queen of this place, and she knew it.
My heart raced, and my palms started sweating against the steering wheel.
I swallowed hard, annoyed at my own reaction.
It’s not like I was scared of her, though she did have a reputation for cutting remarks and icy stares.
And I definitely didn’t like her. But my body refused to cooperate; my heart thumped like I was about to walk on stage in front of thousands of people.
I parked the car, turned off the engine, and sat for a second, willing myself to stop freaking out. A breath in, a breath out.
Finally, I opened my door and stepped onto the gravel.
The crisp autumn air made me shiver. I slammed the car door shut behind me, immediately worrying about whether the sound was too loud or if she’d think I was clumsy.
I just wanted to make the best possible impression—or at least a decent one—so I could finish the tutoring and get out of there without incident.
I started walking toward her, each step feeling heavier than the last. Something in my stomach was doing somersaults, but I forced a tight, polite smile.
She didn’t wave. She just stood there. Her expression was unreadable, and the silence between us stretched until I finally reached the steps leading up to her front door.
My thoughts were a jumbled mess: Why am I so worked up?
Is she going to insult me right away? What if I mess up somehow?
I tried to remind myself that I was here for a simple reason: to help her pass chemistry.
But as I felt my cheeks grow warm and my pulse pound in my ears, I realized nothing about this day was going to feel simple.