Expelled Souls

The morning chill

"Ivy, get up. You'll be late."

Her mother's voice sliced through the warm comfort of sleep, cold and sharp like the first breath of winter. Ivy blinked against the early morning light, groaning as she pulled the blanket over her head. But Evelyn Cassidy wasn't one for patience. With a sigh, Ivy pushed herself up, catching a glimpse of her mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed, and face set in its usual hard lines.

"I said, get up. You don't want to be late again," her mother said, her voice devoid of any real warmth.

"I'm up," Ivy muttered, rubbing her eyes. Evelyn turned and disappeared down the hallway without another word. It was always like this - efficient, to the point. No tenderness, no softness, but Ivy had learned not to expect it. Her mother showed her love through actions, right? The clean laundry, breakfast on the table, the rides to school. That's what love looked like, she reminded herself.

Downstairs, her mother had already set out a simple breakfast-toast and a glass of orange juice. Ivy ate in silence, the faint sounds of the radio murmuring in the background. Her father was already gone, off to work before the sun even rose. As usual, it was just her and Evelyn.

"Try not to be late today," her mother said again as Ivy finished her toast. "And don't forget your French homework this time."

"I won't," Ivy promised, grabbing her bag. "See you later, Mom."

Evelyn gave a curt nod but said nothing more as Ivy stepped out the door, the cold morning air biting at her cheeks.

---

The walk to school was brisk, the kind that made Ivy quicken her pace just to stay warm. Rosewood High was already bustling by the time she arrived. She could hear the faint chatter of students, the familiar scrape of lockers, and the low hum of activity that always greeted her in the mornings.

At the front entrance, she spotted her best friend, Olivia Marsh, waiting by the steps. Olivia was practically bouncing on her feet, her auburn hair catching the early sunlight. Always full of energy, always a little too excited about everything. She waved frantically when she saw Ivy.

"There you are! I thought you were going to be late again," Olivia chirped, linking arms with Ivy as they headed inside.

"Almost was," Ivy admitted with a smile. "Mom's in one of her moods."

"She's always in one of her moods," Olivia teased, though there was no real malice in her voice. "Anyway, you ready for English class? I totally forgot to finish the reading."

"I did the reading," Ivy replied with a grin. "As usual."

"Of course you did." Olivia nudged her playfully.

As they walked through the hallway, Violet Walker appeared, slipping in beside them. Dark-haired and quiet, Violet was the exact opposite of Olivia. Where Olivia was loud and bright, Violet was reserved and thoughtful, often lost in her own world. But she was fiercely loyal to her friends, and her sharp wit made her a force to be reckoned with.

"I can't believe we're doing schoolwork like nothing happened," Violet said quietly, her eyes scanning the hallway.

Ivy glanced at her, confused. "What do you mean?"

Violet hesitated, then nodded toward a group of students further down the hall, whispering and laughing by their lockers. "You know... about Noah."

Noah Harrison. The boy who had died just last week. He was known for his humor and charm, always able to brighten up a room with his well-timed jokes and easy manner. Ivy and Noah had never spoken much; they moved in different circles, and while she had heard of his wit and kindness, they hadn't interacted directly.

"Yeah, I know," Ivy said softly. "It's strange, though. No one really seems to be... affected?"

"They are," Violet replied. "They're just pretending they're not. People don't know how to deal with stuff like this."

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Come on, let's not make this a thing. It's sad, but life goes on, right? We've got to survive Mrs. Stevens' English class, and that's tragic enough for one day."

They all laughed at that, even Violet, as they headed toward their classroom.

---

By mid-morning, the day had settled into its usual rhythm. Ivy found herself slipping easily into the comfort of her favorite classes-English and French. Mrs. Stevens, though strict, was one of the few teachers Ivy actually enjoyed learning from. Today, they were diving into a discussion on 19th-century poetry, something that always sparked Ivy's interest.

Across the room, Aiden Carter was doodling in his notebook, his gaze only occasionally flickering up to the board. Aiden was one of those guys who never seemed to take anything seriously, but somehow, he always managed to scrape by with decent grades. His laid-back nature made him easy to be around, and Ivy had grown fond of his carefree attitude. He made everything seem just a little less complicated.

As the class dragged on, Ivy's mind wandered. She glanced around the room, taking in the normalcy of it all. Despite what had happened to Noah, everyone seemed... fine. Too fine, really. A few whispered jokes floated through the air, mocking in a way that felt wrong, but Ivy tried to push it aside. It wasn't her place to question how people grieved.

By lunchtime, Ivy, Olivia, Violet, and Aiden had claimed their usual spot in the corner of the cafeteria. Olivia was animated as usual, regaling them with some story about a drama unfolding in her French class, while Violet quietly picked at her food.

"I heard someone say that Noah's death is a curse or something," Aiden said suddenly, his voice low but playful. "Like, the start of something weird. Isn't that what people say when someone dies unexpectedly?"

Ivy raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Aiden. That's not funny."

He shrugged, grinning. "Just saying. People come up with the strangest stuff."

Violet shook her head. "You know, not everything has to be a joke."

Aiden's grin faltered, but he didn't push it further. The conversation shifted back to lighter topics-school projects, weekend plans, Olivia's latest crush-and the day continued much like any other. But as the afternoon wore on, Ivy couldn't shake the odd sense that something was off, a feeling that had been creeping up on her ever since Noah's death.

Not that she'd admit it to herself, but Ivy couldn't help wondering if there was more to the quiet whispers, the uneasy tension in the halls. The way people seemed to be carrying on as if nothing had happened... it didn't feel right.

As she gathered her things at the end of the day, she spotted a memorial photo of Noah taped to a wall near the gym. It was small and unremarkable, easily overlooked by the passing crowd. Ivy paused, staring at his face for a moment.

And then, just as quickly, she turned away.