The Bermuda Project

Mind you, Melissa Cameron wasn’t a typical hero. She was an ordinary adolescent who meant well. Was, that is. Once she was accused of vandalizing school property, she became bad-mannered and rude. She defended herself in a powerful fashion. Melissa claimed that the two girls who had accused her of destroying the school’s gym equipment, Vanessa and Sydney, had used her as a scapegoat. Melissa declared she had nothing to do with “appalling things such as vandalism.” The principal, seeing he had no incriminating evidence, decided that each girl would be suspended for three days. While the staff members slowly forgot, Melissa’s mother didn’t have the same calm, understanding reaction.

“Vandalism! Is that what I raised my own child to do? To ruin school property? Did I teach you to wreck gym equipment? No! I didn’t!” Mrs. Cameron had thundered loud enough for half the neighborhood to hear. She wouldn’t hear of Melissa’s protests and denials. She declared that there would be changes. The next day, because of her suspension, Melissa stayed home. She was surprised when her mother marched out the door and into her van in formal clothes, leaving Melissa curious and alone with her little brother and her sleeping father. Crouching down to her younger brother, Leighton, she smiled friendlily.

“Lee, do you know where mom’s going?” Leighton looked up at her with bright eyes. Taking his thumb out of his mouth, he wiped the spit off before answering. “Mommy said she was looking into new schools,” Leighton's thumb popped back into his mouth. Melissa titled her head sideways, trying to resist screaming in front of a four year old boy. Offering a sweet smile, she stood up slowly, silently praying that Leighton had heard wrong. A boarding schoo...

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...ary blinked, then rapidly typed on her computer.

“Yes, you are correct. You may leave her here, and Jennifer will show her to the dorm she will be staying in,” Mrs. Cameron left without another word, but did look back pitifully at Melissa. The lobster-eyed woman rung a shiny bell on her desk. A woman in her mid 30s civilly strutted out. “Ah. You must be Melissa. Come with me,” Without letting Melissa ask a single thing, the woman sped up, turning rapidly. Melissa felt like she was in a complicated maze. A loud buzz sounded. Melissa braced herself for rowdy kids to burst out and trample them, but instead, students in a flawless line poured out of the classroom door, one after another. None of them talked. The hall was silent as it was beforehand. Melissa sped up to catch up with the woman, but her mind was still on the students. Why were they acting so strangely?