Page 6 of First Echo

MADELINE

N ormally, I’d be in my room, drawing to clear my head.

On any other day, I would have sprawled on the floor, pencils and colored markers scattered around me, letting the lines and shapes flow until I forgot whatever was bothering me.

But today, I just couldn’t. My mind felt too jumpy, like a constant buzzing under my skin, and every time I tried to pick up my pencil, my hand trembled enough to ruin any straight line I attempted.

There was this restlessness I just couldn’t shake.

Like an itch under the surface of my skin that refused to go away no matter what I did.

I paced around my room for what felt like ages, staring at half-finished sketches and canvases propped against the walls, none of them inviting enough to calm my nerves.

Eventually, I gave up on trying to create anything and decided to go downstairs.

My parents were still at work, and Julian was at football practice with Sam.

The entire house felt oddly quiet—normally, I’d relish having the place to myself, but today, the silence pressed in on me, reminding me of what was coming.

Brooke. My new tutor. I’d told her to show up at my house at five, but I didn’t expect myself to be so.

..anxious? Or whatever this feeling was.

I flopped onto the couch in the foyer, mindlessly scrolling through my phone, half-watching the clock and half-begging time to slow down.

The second I heard the bell of the gate ring, I jumped up to answer.

My heart gave a jolt, but I forced myself to stay cool.

I knew it was Brooke, but I sure as hell didn’t want her to know that I’d been practically waiting by the speaker.

I had a certain reputation to maintain, and restlessly hovering around for my tutor didn’t really help with that.

I pressed the intercom button and put on my best bored voice. “ Who is this? ” I asked, listening to the slight hiss of static. Even though I knew it was Brooke, I had to feign disinterest.

I wondered how Brooke felt about all of this.

Would she feel restless too? Would she care at all, or was she rolling her eyes at the thought of having to come here and teach me of all people?

I tried not to care, but deep down, a tiny voice inside me kept prodding, asking questions I didn’t want to answer.

Once I opened the gate, I decided to wait for her in the doorway. The grand double doors behind me loomed like a statement of how ridiculously large this house was. I’d seen it a million times, but now it felt too quiet, too still, as if the house itself was holding its breath for Brooke’s arrival.

As I stood there, I watched her drive down the driveway.

I almost did a double-take when I saw her car: a vintage black convertible with red leather seats.

The top was down, and the wind caught her wavy brown hair, making it flow around her shoulders like something out of an old Hollywood film.

I blinked in surprise. I had never expected Brooke Winters —the quiet, studious girl from chemistry class—to have that kind of taste, or the money to match.

It looked kind of expensive, and I found myself wondering how someone like her could afford that.

Yet, there she was, cruising up to my place with her sunglasses on, exuding this effortless cool vibe that made her seem like she belonged somewhere else entirely, maybe in a scenic coastal town or on a road trip across the country.

And, as much as it pains me, I had to admit she actually looked…

hot. Not in a nerdy way, either. Something about the way she carried herself in that moment was unexpectedly confident.

A flicker of realization hit me: I noticed that feeling, that restlessness, was gone.

As soon as she showed up, the tension in my stomach melted away, leaving me strangely calm.

That couldn’t possibly be related to her, right?

It had to be a coincidence, just my mood changing because I had a distraction now.

She parked her car and got out, slamming the door behind her.

She walked up to me a little too fast, her posture rigid, and when she stopped right in front of me, I saw the annoyance etched into her features.

Her gaze locked onto mine—she had to tilt her head slightly because she was shorter than me—and I could feel how agitated she was before she even opened her mouth.

“ Who? Seriously? ” she snapped, clearly pissed.

If she was trying to intimidate me, it wasn’t working—not that I’d let her see any sign of discomfort.

But I couldn’t ignore the fact that standing this close to her felt…

odd. My heart gave a weird flutter. She had this intensity about her, something that made me feel like the room had tilted just a bit, like I was caught off balance.

I hated that sensation. I didn’t want to think about why she could affect me like that, so I shoved it aside.

“ What? I just forgot we were supposed to meet today. Some of us actually have lives, you know, ” I said coolly, lifting my chin a fraction.

Brooke scoffed, rolling her eyes so hard I was sure she saw her own skull. “ Right. Let’s just get this over with, ” she retorted, sounding fed up already.

For a moment, the sunlight streaming behind her caught her eyes, and I realized they weren’t purely brown.

There was a dark green ring around her pupils, something you could only see if you were close enough.

I’d never noticed that before. It was… beautiful, an unexpected complexity.

And it irritated me, because part of me was fascinated, and I really didn’t want to be fascinated by Brooke Winters.

“ Great, we finally agree on something, ” I said, letting out a mocking laugh. I smirked, enjoying how her face tensed. There was a small flash of hurt—or was it frustration?—in her eyes that only fueled my desire to push her buttons. I always get what I want, after all.

I took a few steps back and motioned for her to follow me into the house, heading toward my bedroom on the second floor.

I could practically feel her eyes burning holes in my back, the tension radiating off her like an electric current.

I tried to hide my smug satisfaction, but a tiny grin tugged at my lips.

After about a minute of walking through the polished marble foyer and past the winding staircase, I realized Brooke had stopped.

She was standing in the middle of the hallway, looking around at everything like she couldn’t believe it.

The high ceilings, the crystal chandelier hanging overhead, the elaborate artwork my parents insisted on displaying…

it was a lot to take in for someone who’d never been here before.

“ What’s wrong? Did you forget how to walk? ” I asked, crossing my arms. A trace of impatience laced my voice. Maybe I was showing off, or maybe I just wanted to see her reaction.

“ You actually live here? ” she asked in disbelief, her eyes scanning the gold accents on the picture frames and the pristine white marble floors.

“ Never seen a real house before, have you? ” I shot back, arching an eyebrow.

Then Brooke said something I definitely didn’t expect. Her whole demeanor shifted, and she straightened, looking me right in the eye. Her posture turned more confident, and the annoyance in her gaze became something else entirely—almost challenging.

“ Do you always have to be such an insufferable bitch? ” She sounded amused, but there was an undercurrent of real frustration.

I blinked, surprised and… oddly impressed. So this was the real Brooke? The one who wasn’t too scared to talk back to me? Or was it an act, some last-ditch attempt to convince me that she didn’t care what I thought?

Either way, she was right. I usually am an insufferable bitch. That’s just how I’ve learned to handle people, especially people who think they can stand on the same level as me.

“ Sorry, just can’t seem to help it, ” I said with a dramatic shrug, raising my hands in a mock surrender.

My voice dripped with sarcasm, and I turned back around, doing my best not to let Brooke see the small grin tugging at the corners of my mouth.

In a weird way, it was almost… refreshing to have someone stand up to me.

“ Must be a genetic trait, ” I added under my breath, thinking of Julian’s own sharp tongue.

She let out a short laugh, rolling her eyes, but she looked genuinely irritated.

Her eyebrows drew together, and for a second, I thought she might just drop her bags and leave.

But she exhaled, letting that tension pass, and followed me in silence toward my bedroom.

The hallway seemed longer than usual. Maybe it was the awkwardness stretching it out, or maybe the strange vibe between us made every step feel loaded with some new tension.

Finally, we reached my door. I pushed it open and stepped inside, my sanctuary—except it didn’t feel so private anymore.

The walls were decorated with minimalistic art my parents had picked out, but in one corner, I had my secret stash of my own sketches piled next to the desk.

I quickly glanced that way, hoping none of the pages were out in plain sight.

I sat down on my bed before she could say anything, crossing my legs so I could watch her with a slight smirk.

She lingered by the doorway, still taking it all in, and I found myself curious about the thoughts racing behind those inquisitive eyes.

Did she see something here that intrigued her?

Did it match whatever expectations she had about my life?

I couldn’t read her entirely, but I could see she was annoyed. Her jaw tightened a little, and she set her bag down with more force than necessary, as if she were trying to keep her temper in check. An uncomfortable silence settled between us, almost tangible.

Even so, part of me couldn’t ignore how alive I suddenly felt with her standing here, in my space, confronting me.

That restlessness I’d been wrestling with all day was gone, replaced by a different kind of tension, one that I didn’t know whether to fight or welcome.

I tried to bury the thought that maybe I liked the spark of challenge in her eyes.

I reminded myself that I was Madeline Hayes—I got what I wanted, I was in control.

No matter what this tutoring session brought, I refused to let Brooke Winters see me as anything less than the confident, untouchable person I was supposed to be.