What's Wrong With Us?

R

The afternoon broadcast echoed down the hallway, the voices of student broadcasters reverberating off the tile—bright, booming, inescapable.

"Good afternoon, Zaxtonians! Today we’re diving into the proud legacy of our beloved Academy, a beacon of educational excellence—renowned for shaping tomorrow’s leaders and champions!" The voice was steady, almost theatrical in its authority, demanding attention from the bustling crowd.

Everyone listened.
Except Kamaria.

To her, this annual performance was nothing but déjà vu—another tired chorus in the Zaxton's Academy highlight reel, playing on loop every June.

"Founded in the 1940s by Sir Zaxton Dlamine Sr., our Academy began as a humble school committed to providing quality education for underprivileged children, especially youth of color. Today, it stands as a model of holistic education and community service." A second voice piped up—higher, cheerier, and to Ria, utterly unbearable.

She clenched her jaw as she tried to focus on the page in front of her, the cheerful tone stabbing through her concentration. High-pitched voices had always gotten under her skin, short-circuiting her focus in record time.

"Zaxton’s has nurtured countless scholars, artists, scientists, and athletes—many of whom have gone on to become world champions, Nobel laureates, and pioneers in their fields." The original broadcaster returned, calm and self-assured.

Ria groaned quietly. She reached into her bag in a desperate search for her headphones—her salvation—but came up empty. Of course they weren’t there. Just her luck.

"Located in the scenic heart of Santa Cruz, our campus boasts state-of-the-art facilities, a diverse and dynamic faculty, and a student body committed to learning, service, and personal growth." A third voice joined the audio assault—deeper, with a smug sort of polish.

Meanwhile, Ria sat hunched on the polished wood floor of the library, pretending to read but barely seeing the words on the page.

"As we welcome new students and families to Zaxton’s Academy, we invite you to join us in celebrating a legacy of excellence, innovation, and community." The second broadcaster returned, chipper as ever. Ria’s grip on her book tightened, fingers pressing so hard into the cover it might’ve left dents.

“I’m just trying to read,” she muttered under her breath, exasperated. “Why is that a federal crime now?” She didn’t have anger issues, really—she had restraint. But this? This pushed her to the brink.

"Stay tuned for more updates on sports, academics, and the vibrant life at Zaxton’s Academy. We’re here to keep you informed and inspired—thanks for tuning in!" The trio ended in perfect harmony, synchronized like a cult choir. Ria rolled her eyes—but she had to admit, the timing was freakishly good.

Still, talent didn’t make the message less repetitive. She’d heard this broadcast every school year of her life. At least it was over now.

With a sigh of relief, Ria opened her book again—The Secret Place, the very first novel she’d ever fallen in love with, back when she was eight.
It was the catalyst for her obsession with Dark Academia—mystery, thrillers, friendship wrapped in secrets and shadows.

Her happy place. Her refuge.
Even if, in Zaxton’s halls, peace was always just a little too loud.

Suddenly, mid-sentence in Chapter 12, a familiar—and painfully annoying—voice crackled to life over the school intercom: "Kamaria Dlamine, please stop reading in the library and report to the Dean’s office immediately."

Ria froze. Her eyes widened like she’d just seen a ghost crawl out of her book. That voice.
No way.
No freaking way.

It was Abena.