The first light of a dull Monday morning, weak and watery, slipped through a narrow gap in the heavy curtains. It sliced across Ashton's face like a pale blade. He groaned, a low, guttural sound, and turned away, burying his face in the pillow. He clung desperately to the last fragments of a dream, noise, movement, the surge of a crowd. In his dream, they roared, deafening, relentless. He struck the ball cleanly; it arced, dipped, and snapped the net. For a moment, victory was real, bright, undeniable. Now, the dull weight of morning threatened to wash it all away, leaving only the dragging certainty of another week ahead.
"Ashton!" His granddad's voice rumbled up the stairs.
He jolted upright. "Coming!" His voice came out thick with sleep. He dragged himself out of bed, grabbed his bag, and hurried downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. His grandparents were already waiting. His grandma stood by the table, arms folded, her expression tight. "Sorry," Ashton said. "Couldn't find my phone." It was easier than telling the truth. "I've got football practice after the trip," he added, forcing a small smile. "Trials, actually."
His granddad looked at him, eyes warm. "You've got the heart for it, son. That's what matters."
I wish they were here. The thought slipped in quietly, as it always did. He pushed it down before it could settle, slung his bag over his shoulder, and headed out. Ashton knew better than to let his thoughts drift there.
The cold morning air hit him sharply as he stepped outside. It woke him up better than anything else could.
At the end of the street, Hayley was already there, talking to no one in particular, full of energy as always. She spotted him instantly and waved. Ashton managed a small smile and walked over. "You're late again," she said, grinning.
"Barely," he replied, adjusting his bag strap. "Got lost in a daydream."
"You always do"
"I'm here, aren't I?"
Hayley rolled her eyes, then suddenly lifted her phone like a microphone and burst into song, loud and dramatic. Her voice echoed down the street. Ashton huffed a laugh. Nothing ever changed with her.
They were halfway to school when a car horn blared beside them. Both of them turned. Ross leaned out of the passenger window, grinning like he'd known them his whole life. "Oi! You two alive this morning?"
Ashton chuckled. That was Ross, he could start a conversation with anyone, anywhere. "Barely" Ashton called back
Ross laughed, then disappeared back into the car as it pulled ahead.
By the time they reached the school gates, the place was already buzzing. Groups clustered together, some excited for the trip, others clearly wishing they were still in bed.
Hayley leaned closer to Ashton, lowering her voice slightly. "I swear, Scott is just… so handsome," she said, a small smile creeping onto her face.
Ashton snorted. "He'd never date you, Hays. I mean—he's basically the school bully."
"Ashton's right, you know."
The voice sliced through the air.
They turned. Scott stood there, hands in his pockets, a slow, mocking smile pulling at his lips. His gaze dragged over Hayley, deliberate and judging. "I wouldn't be seen dead with a girl who dresses like that."
The words landed hard. Hayley froze. For a second, no one moved.
Then a boy shoved past Scott's shoulder, knocking into him slightly as he passed. Scott's expression snapped. Without thinking, he lashed out, his hand catching a girl beside the boy and pushing her back.
She stumbled but didn't fall. "Felix, it's fine. Leave it," she said quickly, steadying herself.
Felix turned, fists clenched at his sides. "It's not fine, Ellen."
Now Ashton was watching properly. He recognised her—Ellen. She'd helped him study once. Maybe twice. Quiet, but kind. Not someone who deserved that.
Scott scoffed, already losing interest, like none of it had mattered.
Students began lining up by the minibus, the earlier tension dissolving into low chatter and whispers. Ross reappeared, joining the line, glancing around at everyone like he was taking inventory of the morning.
Ellen stood beside Felix, her shoulders tight. Around her, voices curled and shifted—whispers that never quite disappeared.
They had followed her from the moment she arrived. From the house. Everyone knew about it. The old place at the edge of town. Forgotten. Rotting. The kind of house people crossed the street to avoid. Mould stained the ceilings, weeds swallowed the garden, and the windows looked like they might give up entirely in the next strong wind. But it wasn't empty anymore. Ellen and her family lived there now. People stared when they passed. Some out of curiosity. Others for something harder to name. The rumours had come quickly.
They said the house once belonged to a man who had gone mad—obsessed, unstable. That he had taken his own life inside those walls. That something of him had stayed behind. Watching. Waiting. Looking for someone new. Of course, Ellen's family didn't believe any of it. But the whispers never stopped. And standing there, surrounded by them, Ellen could still hear every word.
Ashton had always been aware of Ellen's living situation, the somewhat dilapidated house on the outskirts of town that had seen better days. But Ashton wasn't one to judge a book by its cover, or a person by their address. In his eyes, a roof over one's head was a blessing, a basic necessity that transcended the superficialities of wealth and status. He valued people for who they were, not where they lived.
The whispers and rumors about Ellen's house being haunted were as old as the house itself. Locals spoke of strange occurrences, unexplained noises, and eerie apparitions that roamed the halls at night. Many would have been unnerved by such tales, perhaps even avoided the place altogether. But Ashton wasn't easily spooked. He approached the rumors with a healthy dose of skepticism, chalking them up to overactive imaginations and small-town gossip.
The teacher clapped his hands once, sharp enough to cut through the noise. "Alright, everyone—bags in the back and find a seat. We're leaving in two minutes." He sees the new students and heads over to talk to them.
People scrambled onto the mini bus.