prime numbers ✓

01

Frankly, accepting the invitation to one of the poshest academies in England was an imprudent whim on Emma's part.

But anything to get out of the shitshow she called a family. Emma was certain that she would have grabbed a pair of kitchen scissors and done unspeakable things to herself with it if she had stayed a day longer. For the first time in ages, she was glad she had something called a brain.

Things were made much simpler by the fact that she had no ties to her hometown — no friends, nothing. She couldn't be bothered to make any back in her old school — the lack of intellectual stimulation in that stinking place was suffocating. She wasn't too sure if Somerset Academy would provide a different setting either, but still she privately held out hope. They had better have a half-decent math class with an actually competent instructor — or, Emma decided as she shoved underwear higgledy-piggledy into a trunk, she would simply break out of the school in the middle of the night and proceed to drown herself in the Cornish seas.

Everything was settled in her mind — if Somerset Academy was disappointing just like everything else, she would kill herself. There was nothing in her life left to live for. Back when she was naive, the original plan was to become the next Einstein, achieve international glory, before drinking the rest of her life away. But now, after a series of disenchanting events, Emma just wanted to cut to the chase and end it. Death was an infinitely better prospect compared to staying stagnant.

Of course, her parents let her go. Emma saw the glimmer of relief in their eyes when the letter for the scholarship arrived. She could practically hear the singing in their hearts. Finally, their troublesome and problematic daughter would be erased from existence and they could live out their fluffy fantasies. For a second, Emma even contemplated coming back for the holidays, just out of petty spite. Sometimes the sheer extent of her immaturity amazed even herself.

At least the uniform was pretty. Emma liked the preppy look of a white blouse and plaid skirt. The leniency of the dress code for Somerset Academy took her by surprise; her previous school didn't even allow braids, let alone makeup. Those contouring skills she'd picked up for fun last year would be of use at last. Seeing herself in the mirror, donning the uniform with a light dust of blush on her cheeks, she felt... nice.

On an early September morning, not concerning herself with the trouble of saying goodbye, Emma left for Kent.

She wasn't nervous. The horrid churning in her stomach was more out of the grim knowledge that Somerset Academy would definitely disappoint her in some way or another, no matter how pleasant the uniform was. Why was she even considering the likelihood of being let down in the first place? That must mean that she had expected, even hoped for something.

Emma gazed through the windows of the coach, a cup of cold coffee held firmly in her hands. She had the odd habit of fixating her eyes on a random spot of grass and following it until it disappeared from view. Yet this barely distracted her from the incessant screeching of rusty metal below her feet. She had half the mind to get up and tell the coachman to stop the vehicle so that she could go and fix the blasted thing by herself. 

"New girl, aren't you?"

Emma gave a start and whirled her head to the right. Unbeknownst to her, a boy had slipped into the seat beside hers, and was observing her with a sparkle in his dark eyes. She gave him a once-over, immediately noticing that he had on the exact same uniform as her, just the skirt being swapped for trousers.

"Yes, and you are...?" She was quite unable to suppress the note of wariness in her voice.

He didn't seem to realize her discomfort. On the contrary and to her chagrin, he edged closer to Emma, beaming. "I'm Jonah Park. Rather late in the day to come to Somerset, isn't it? Where'd you come from?"