Melly Harlow had never liked being noticed. At fourteen, she'd mastered the art of hiding behind her long black hair, letting it fall like a curtain whenever the world felt too close, which was most of the time.
Now, with her knees pulled up in the back seat of her dad's car, she wished she could disappear entirely. Her father called this move "a fresh start." Her mother called it "quaint." Melly called it unfair.
Melly didn't know how else to put it—today, her parents packed up their lives and moved to Faireyport.
The little port town clung to the edge of the North Sea as if it were afraid the waves might wash it away. With a population barely scratching 4,000, its main export was sea salt. Faireyport Academy, the private school she would soon attend, was even smaller. Fewer than 200 students filled its drafty halls, and every face would be a stranger.
Her parents had made the move after her father lost his job in Bristol and found new work in Faireyport as a saltworker. The pay was good, and he insisted he "needed a change in environment." The fact that Faireyport Academy was a well-regarded private school—and now within their budget—had only helped convince them.
Still, Melly thought moving to the other side of the country was overkill. She'd already cried for the better part of a week after telling her friends she wouldn't be starting high school with them. It had taken her years to make those friendships, and now she'd have to start all over again.
Her mother, sensing her dread, had handed her a small journal as an apology. Melly liked to write and scrapbook, and her mum suggested she use it to record her experiences in Faireyport—something she might look back on fondly one day. Melly wasn't so sure, but she hoped her mother was right.
She balanced the journal on her knees, still tucked tight to her chest, and ran her fingers over the smooth leather cover. When she opened it, the scent of fresh paper rose faintly, sharp and clean, like the inside of a new book. The pages were blank, waiting.
Melly flipped through them slowly, pausing now and then to test how they felt beneath her fingertips. Halfway through, something caught her eye—a small sticker wedged between the seat cushions beside her. It was scuffed at the edges, probably forgotten there months ago, but the design made her smile. A cartoon monkey peeked from behind a wall, one hand gripping the edge while the other waved as if it had just been caught spying. It felt fitting somehow.
She peeled it free, smoothing the wrinkles with her thumb, then pressed it firmly onto the inside cover. The little monkey seemed to settle there, peeking into the empty pages as if it was curious about what she might write. She signed her name next to the monkey and just like that, the journal was hers.
Melly and her parents arrived the next morning.
As they rolled into town, a weathered wooden sign greeted them: Welcome to Faireyport – Established 1823. The words were painted in peeling white letters, framed by a faded image of a ship cresting a wave. Its once-bright colors now muted to greys and browns.
Melly stared at it through the car window, unsure whether it was meant to be inviting or a warning. It looked tired, like the sign had been standing there too long and no one cared to fix it. She wondered if the whole town would feel that way.
The first thing she noticed when she stepped out of the car and finally stretched her legs was the smell. The air carried the tang of brine and the cold weight of wet stone. Most people probably wouldn't have given it a second thought; her parents certainly didn't seem to notice. But Melly had always had a sharper sense of smell than most. It wasn't unpleasant, just different. She would need time to get used to it.
Their new house wasn't large, but compared to their cramped apartment in Bristol, it felt almost roomy. Once their furniture arrived, she could imagine it being quite cozy. Against her expectations, she was pleasantly surprised.
After they unpacked the last of their essentials, her parents took her to Faireyport Academy to meet the headmaster and tour the grounds.
The headmaster, Magnus Reinhart, was an older man with neatly combed silver hair and a well-trimmed beard that gave him a dignified air. His posture was straight, almost rigid, as if he'd been standing at attention his entire life. A pair of round spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, catching the light whenever he turned his head. His voice was deep but measured, each word chosen carefully, the kind of tone that could calm a restless classroom without ever needing to raise in volume. There was a formality to him, from the polished brass buttons on his coat to the faint scent of pipe tobacco that seemed to cling to him, as though he belonged to another time entirely.
Melly felt nervous around him. He seemed polite enough, but there was something about the way his gaze lingered that made her straighten her posture without thinking. She felt as if he could see right through her, weighing and measuring her worth before she'd even said a word. She glanced away, letting her eyes wander over the building instead.
The academy itself was old, its weathered stone and pointed arches giving it a kind of gothic charm she didn't mind. But it was also far bigger than she had expected for a town this size, far too big for fewer than a couple hundred students. Somewhere in its history, someone had imagined a much larger future for Faireyport's youth.
The thought lingered as she crossed the courtyard with Headmaster Reinhart. For a population of four thousand, there should have been more people her age. She asked the headmaster about it, and he explained that most of the town's residents were working men in the salt industry. It made sense, she supposed, yet something about the answer bothered her. She had seen no shortage of women while walking the streets earlier, though perhaps that had been coincidence.
Maybe it was for the best. Fewer students meant fewer chances to fumble her way through awkward conversations.
As for the rest of the town, Headmaster Reinhart's description made it seem like it didn't have much to offer in entertainment. A few food stalls, the occasional shop. There was mention of an annual festival every November, some kind of market celebration, but Melly wasn't sure what it involved. For now, Faireyport's biggest draw was the view of the sea and she thought, perhaps that was all there was to it.
Just as Melly and her parents were about to leave the academy, her new uniform folded neatly in her arms, Headmaster Reinhart stopped them.
"I nearly forgot to mention," he said. "Faireyport Academy serves students from infant through secondary. The south wing is for the infant school, the east for primary, and the west for secondary. You'll be in the west wing, Melly, and I strongly advise you not to wander into the others. Classes begin September first at eight o'clock sharp." His expression softened just enough to pass for a smile. "Welcome to Faireyport."
He extended his hand, and Melly hesitated before taking it in a firm shake.
The tour ended shortly after. Melly and her parents made their way back through the quiet streets toward their new home. The late afternoon sun hung low, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Once they stepped through the front door, her mother set her handbag down on the kitchen counter. "So," she asked, glancing at Melly, "what do you think of the school?"
Melly shrugged, shifting the uniform in her arms. "It's… big," she said finally. "Bigger than I expected."
Her father smiled as he opened the fridge to grab a drink. "That's a good thing. Means there's room to grow."
Melly's lips pressed into a thin line. "But I don't want to grow here. I had friends in Bristol. I liked my school. We didn't have to move halfway across the country for you to take some random job."
Her mother's tone sharpened. "Melly, we've been over this. This is a good opportunity for your father, and for all of us."
"For you, maybe," Melly shot back. "You're not the one who has to walk into a place where everyone already knows each other and pretend you belong."
Her father closed the fridge door with a little more force than necessary. "Life isn't always fair, Melly."
She spun toward him, heat rising in her voice. "I know that! You keep saying that, but we didn't have to come all the way here. You could've found another job near Bristol. We could've stayed close to my friends, my school, my life."
"Melly—" her mother started, but she cut her off.
"You didn't even ask me what I wanted or gave me any time to process it. You just decided, and now I'm supposed to smile and pretend this is fine."
Her father's expression soured. "You're right. We didn't ask, because sometimes there isn't time to ask. Things happen fast, and not always for reasons that make sense." He held her gaze, his voice dropping lower. "Sometimes… bad things happen without reason. And right now, you need to learn to live with it."
Melly let out a frustrated breath that came out closer to a scoff. "This is so unfair!" She turned sharply, her uniform and journal still clutched to her chest, and headed up the stairs. The floorboards creaked under her quick steps as she pushed open the door to her room.
It was bare except for a mattress laid against the wall and a few unopened boxes stacked in the corner. The air smelled faintly of dust and something stale beneath it, like a closed cupboard that hadn't been opened in years. It pressed in on her, heavy and dry, making the room feel smaller than it was.
She tossed her belongings onto the mattress and sank down beside them, pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes. The knot in her chest swelled, threatening to spill over into tears. She held her breath, forcing it back. Crying wouldn't change anything.
Instead, she reached for her journal. She unclipped her pen from one of the pages and began to write her first entry.
I hate my parents.
She stared at the words, the ink still wet, before groaning in frustration. With quick, angry strokes, she scribbled them out and wrote beneath them:
I hate Faireyport.
The days that followed were quiet. Melly mostly kept to herself, unpacking only what she needed and avoiding long conversations with her parents. Each night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the uniform hanging in her closet like a reminder of the day she couldn't avoid forever.
September first came quicker than Melly would have liked. That morning, she got ready for school slowly and without a word to her mother. Her father was no where in sight, already having gone to work. She was still bitter about the move, but more than anything, she was trying to work up the nerve to face a school full of strangers.
Before she could leave, her mother stopped her in the hallway. Her eyes were soft with worry.
"You'll be okay, Melly."
Despite her grudge, Melly hesitantly nodded, trying to let the reassurance sink in.
Faireyport Academy was only a few blocks away, the walk short enough that she could see its stone towers rising above the rooftops long before reaching the gate. Along the way, she passed other students heading in the same direction, some chatting in groups, others walking alone with the same reluctant shuffle she felt in her own steps.
When she reached the academy's gate, her feet stalled. For a moment she stood still, watching the steady stream of uniforms disappear through the archway and the morning chatter dulling to a low hum.
Suddenly, a stench hit her so sharply she instinctively covered her nose and mouth. Buried beneath the usual tang of brine and damp stone, it was metallic, like rusted iron, laced with a rotting, sickly-sweet edge that made her flinch and nearly gag.