We arrived at school on time at 8:10am joining the long line of students ready to enter. The school stands like a fortress in the heart of the city, a towering 30-story building with sharp-edged architecture, its grey exterior streaked with grime from decades of exposure to the polluted air. The large glass entry doors reflect the morning light, though they’re clouded with fingerprints and smudges from countless students.
I reach into my bag and pull out toggles for Ernie and myself, their smooth, cool surfaces fitting neatly into my hand. The line ahead of us is packed with younger children, their faces a mix of excitement and apprehension. It’s hard to imagine I once looked that young in high school.
Ernie steps up to the scanner, using the device to input his six-digit code. He carefully types the numbers, and the faint beep of confirmation is followed by a green light. Holding his head high, he waits for the biometric scan. Another green light flashes, and the gate clicks open, allowing him to pass through. I follow right after, punching in my own code with practiced speed and directing my face towards the camera. The gate grants me entry with a metallic clunk as the toggle’s faint hum disappears back into my bag.
Security officers, dressed in crisp navy uniforms, approach us at the next checkpoint. Their faces are stern, their gazes scanning the line with practiced precision. We empty our pockets into trays before sliding our bags onto a conveyor belt. The dull whir of the scanning machine fills the air as the metal detectors hum quietly in the background. The walls around the checkpoint are bare concrete, marked with numbered signs and scratched graffiti that no one bothers to remove. We walk through the arch, its sensors beeping faintly with each student’s movement. After collecting our belongings, we step into the final stage of security—the radiation scanners for traces of explosive materials.
The fluorescent lights overhead flicker erratically, casting harsh white light on the cold, tiled floors. The sterile smell of cleaning agents mingles with the faint scent of metal as the machine swabs my backpack. My shoes squeak against the polished floor as I raise one foot onto the bench, then the other. The security officer gestures for me to raise my arms, checking my sides, front, and back with brisk efficiency. The sharp click of his nod signals the ‘all clear,’ and I re-join Ernie, who waits patiently nearby.
It’s amazing to think that schools and even airports once didn’t have any of these precautions. All of those school shootings, bombings, terrorist attacks and no one had the brainpower to increase the security? One day, I hope to fly a plane and visit a different country. I’ll never be able to afford it myself of course, but maybe I’ll get a job someday that will give me the opportunity to travel… anywhere. We are so disconnected from the rest of the world in Australia, as an island nation, and with United World geographically restricting the internet reach to save power. Snow looks so magical in the movies I’ve seen; Switzerland or Austria would be incredible! I am close to fluent in German and Chinese so it’s not inconceivable.
The hallway ahead is a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Rows of lockers line the walls, their paint peeling and doors dented from years of abuse. The crowd of students jostles and chatters, their voices amplified by the echoing acoustics of the building. The air feels heavy, weighed down by the lack of natural light and the ever-present hum of security cameras mounted in every corner. A boy waves to Ernie as we pass, and two girls call out cheerful greetings, their smiles wide and eager. Ernie just maintains his typical carefree smile, his happy expression unwavering as he follows me. I smile inwardly. He’ll have to be careful—girls like that will take over his life if they get half the chance. I don’t want him ending up like Sam did with Sabina.
We ascend the eight flights of stairs leading to Ernie’s classroom. The stairwell is narrow and windowless, the concrete walls smudged and worn from the touch of years of dirty hands and the scuffs of passing shoes. A dim, flickering emergency light casts an eerie glow over the steep, worn steps. His classroom door, slightly ajar, reveals many rows of desks arranged neatly beneath a whiteboard smudged with marker stains. I give him a quick hug, goodbye. “Be good this morning, Ernie, and I’ll see you in the hall at lunchtime.”
“I will,” he replies, his voice light with promise. He steps inside, joining a small group of students animatedly discussing a futuristic world where people live in space. I don’t think he ever contributes much to the conversation, but he always looks genuinely happy to be part of it.
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I walk back to the stairwell, leaning against the cold metal railing as I wait for Claudia. The stream of students moving past me is a blur of faces, uniforms, and hurried footsteps. While I wait, my thoughts drift back to the uneasy feeling I had on the way to school. I need to tell her about it. It is not the first time I’ve had this feeling of being followed and I have to tell someone. We have been best friends since first starting school and we have been through a lot of highs and lows together. Ever since she started dating Jono, we have been a bit more distant, but we still tell each other everything. It might sound crazy to anyone else, but Claudia won’t judge me.
She has been raised to be a strong female by her mother. Although she has always been too insecure to show me her house, I know her family really struggle to get by without her father and that she has led a hard life too. It is a part of what brought us together. We have never allowed ourselves to fall to the pressures and expectations of others around us. The importance of protecting our individuality may have cast us as outcasts from the many mindless sheep at school, but we have had each other and always respected each other’s thoughts and beliefs that has made us who we are.
I hope she hurries up. It is a 30-story building and being in our final year, the class coordinators decided we are able to make our way up to the higher floors. Our legs aren’t really that much longer than the year 7-9 kids. I am sure they would manage it fine. There are also many offices leased out to academic research businesses on the first 10 floors. I can’t imagine who would want to finish school to come straight back here!
The sound of stylish ankle boots clacking against the steps snaps me out of my thoughts. A group of girls passes me, on the way to join my brother’s class, one of them, a black-haired girl from Year 8, deliberately bumps into me. Her malicious stare lingers as she continues down the hall. I don’t recognise her. It angered me for a few seconds knowing she will most certainly be just another follower of Dom’s group, deflecting their hate towards me whenever they can. I hold the gaze of her stare without flinching. Saying something will likely start a fight, but I refuse to back down either.
“Victoria!” I turn back around at the sound of the familiar voice calling my name. There is Claudia standing by the stairs with Jono. I let go of my resentful feelings towards the year 8 girl and begin heading toward my best friend. Claudia flashes me a smile as Jono kisses her cheek and hurries off to his class.
She joins me on the stairs, and we begin climbing together. “How was your weekend? Did you do anything fun, or meet any cute guys?” she asks in a teasing tone. I grunt. “You know that I had to study and do assignments all weekend, just like you. Oh and no, I didn’t meet any cute guys at my boring job.”
She raises a challenging eyebrow. “C’mon, really? I thought you said your boss was attractive? Something about his intelligence and the drive of having his own business?” “No, not my boss,” I reply quickly. “We barely even speak, and he’s, like, forty! Anyway, I need to tell you something before class.”
Anyway, I have something to quickly talk to you about before class. Do you remember how sometimes I feel like I am being followed?” She nodded slowly as the playful smile drops off her face into a serious look of concern. “I had the same feeling all the way since Newtown. Every time I turned around to try and catch who it was though, they were either hidden in the crowd or maybe it was one of the homeless… but that would only make sense if I only felt watched in the same location. It has been to and from work and on weekends in different places too. I don’t know how worried I should be, or what to do about it.”
We had been walking more slowly up the stairs since I had started talking and we stop mid-stairway as Claudia turns to face me directly with a determined expression. “I’m not saying that you’re imagining it. I’m not saying that it might not be dangerous and that you shouldn’t be worried. Until you have actually seen a person following you, it is hard however to tell you that you should be panicking about someone who either doesn’t exist or will never cause you any trouble. Maybe it’s one of those girls who have a crush on Ernest, or maybe it’s no one. Either way, you should try and just forget about it and not let it consume you until there is definitely something to worry about.
Hmm, it is either brilliant advice or terrible advice. I decided that the best thing I can do for now is to try not to overthink the situation and go along with my best friend’s advice. “Thanks Claudia, you’re right. I should just put it out of my mind. Maybe it’s nothing, and I already have enough things to think about.” “Like this renewable energy distribution assignment” she interposed. “I don’t care how they get it as long as there’s more where it comes from!” We laugh, and the conversation shifts to schoolwork as we climb the final flights of stairs. The science classroom is waiting, its barred windows offering a view of the grey, sprawling city below, a stark reminder of how confined we are in a world that feels increasingly small.
