FIFTY-NINE | WESTCLIFF

I smoothed down the lapels of my blazer before shutting the car door behind me. Gravel crunched underfoot. I dug my heel of my boot down, making a tiny hole in the neat ground.

I’d never been to the University of Westcliff before, though it wasn’t any further away from Seafall than Bournehurst was. When I’d been applying to university this had been one of my options, but it wasn’t sat on the coast, so I’d put it low down on my list.

I locked the car and hefted my bag up higher on my shoulder. The car park I was in looked fancy, with barren trees secured in iron fencing scattered across its expanse. Cyrus had told me this one was closest to the building his office was in, but I’d driven past a few others on my way here. The campus seemed bigger than Bournehurst’s, but that had been halved, with the humanities clustered together on one side of town and the sciences on the other. Perhaps together they w