I watch the segment as images of each person who’d been on the plane cycle by. I get lost in their faces until it’s past time for my first class, and no one else is left in the lobby but me. This is not a good start to being normal.

A woman with blond hair and a pink blazer smiles at me.

“Can I help you?” Her voice sounds robotic, filtered through the round metal intercom.

“I’m new. I don’t have my schedule—”

“Oh! You must be Anora Silby!” She retrieves a folder from her desk and hands it to me via a small opening at the bottom of the glass barrier. Why is there a glass barrier? Does alternative school mean violent? Is she expecting someone to accost her? “Inside you’ll find your schedule and your student handbook.”

I open the folder and stare at the materials. My schedule sits on top. I have already zoned in on my first hour: trigonometry…a.k.a. hell.

I am terrible at math.

“Be sure you’re aware of curfew.”

“Oh, I won’t be living on campus. We have a place in town.”

“Curfew is countywide,” she advises. “No one’s to be outside after midnight.”

“Why?”

It takes the lady a moment to realize I’ve asked her a question. She blinks.

“It’s always been like that. Since the twenties.”

“What happened in the twenties?”

“Well, you know, after the murders.”

I blink. Did this woman just tell me, a student, that there had been murders in this county? What the hell kind of place is this? “No, actually…I don’t know.” I wave my folder around to remind her I’m the new girl.

“It’s nothing to be worried about,” the lady assures me, apparently realizing this isn’t the sort of gossip to share with a teenager. “There haven’t been any murders since then. The curfew’s just in place as…a precaution. It’s best if it’s obeyed.”

She says it like a warning, like she thinks I’m one to break the rules. I can understand curfew for campus, but if nothing has happened since the twenties, why is it countywide?

“Would you like a guide to help you find your classes?” Her voice brightens, and her smile intensifies. It looks fake, and I get the sense I’m not welcome anymore.

“Uh, sure.”