Campus Missed Connections Novels & Stories

“What, is there like one journalist in the entire Capital!?” I shrug as they both turn their eyes to me, letting them see that I’m as shocked as they are. But there’s no room for further consideration as my dad moves to the front of the room, Captain Stanzor standing behind him and glancing at his watch. “Thank you,” dad calls out, his way of getting everyone to quiet. We all settle down, eager to hear what’s going on. “We’ve called you all today for several reasons. But the first is to let you know that what scanty cell connections you’ve been able to get over the past few weeks will be cut to nothing today.”

My chain of thoughts broke when Jack patted my shoulders. " Coollip?" He asked and I nodded. He forwarded me a packet and I placed it under my tongue . I spat it outside the window after sometime and left the class as it's break time. My phone beeped with a message. " Emergency! Come to the tutorial room near the canteen." It's from Nandhini. I rushed to the tutorial room , I felt like something bad is gonna happen. My steps halted , my heart raced and I felt like my entire world turned upside down in just a moment , my legs shivered .

Makeup would have to wait; I could only manage a quick swipe of sunscreen. As I sprinted across campus, my phone kept buzzing non-stop. I glanced at the messages, each one increasing my anxiety: Message 1: Emily, where are you? Mrs. Frost is looking for you! Message 2: We've got a full house waiting to hear from Mr. Martin's speech! Message 3, Also, from my roommate Evelyn: Emily, I have to go home to Pennsylvania for a week due to family problems. You're in charge of the apartment for now. See you soon!

How many goodbyes she never understood. Eventually, she calms enough to let Mrs. Chen take her, though her grip lingers on my sleeve longer than it should. The bus ride to campus takes forty long minutes. When I step off, everything looks exactly the same. Students laughing. Music playing. Life moving forward without pause. Of course nothing’s changed. The world doesn’t stop just because mine feels unrecognizable. I check my phone to see three missed calls from my mom. Two texts from Amy asking if I’m okay.

The number wasn't linked to any of my contacts. I had a feeling I knew what this might be. "Hello?" "Ah, Miss Taylor Jones, right? I'm a lecturer from the Faculty of Fashion Design. I was wondering if you'd be interested in joining our centennial celebration next month!" I really suspected Soren had talked to the academy about me. "I am. I work here in Metropolis after all." "Great! For your information, we'll add you to a group chat on Telegram. It's a group for alumni returning for the centennial."

She pulled out a white square card with the university's blue logo. She furrowed her brow in confusion and read what it said: Dear Alumni, We are pleased to inform you that the students of the 2009/2010 class will have a reunion on June 19, 2015, at 2:00 PM. All alumni will gather at the entrance of the Affiliated Center for Social Work at 12:00 PM. To confirm your attendance, please call 850442402. Attendance confirmation is requested. Katia stared at the paper with slightly uneven breathing. Should she attend? What would she tell her former classmates about why she didn't attend in the last year?

I would self-study to make up for it when my head was properly back on my shoulders, but for now, I had to run, run, run. I mindlessly explored every trail I found, taking care never to wander too far. Eventually, the hours passed, and it was already the afternoon. So much for at least trying to attend the latter half of my classes. My stomach still churned at the memory of Flicka's back and the flip of her hair as she pushed her way into the manor. As if any lesson would make its way into my head right now. My phone vibrated in my pocket multiple times, waking me from my brooding. It wasn't until I absently checked the screen that I realized I must have unwittingly traveled through a recept

The counselor's words hit me like a truck. My mind went completely blank. For a moment, I couldn't think straight. "Elena! Are you listening to me? The organizers checked—your name and student ID are on the reservation, but it was an e-ticket. There's no scan record. "That means they never even made it inside. Now all three of their phones are off. Their families are losing their minds. Tell me the truth. What the hell is going on?" The booking info was mine?

She interjected impatiently. My stomach started to get knotted. “No.” “Check it.” Her tone already set my mind and body working. I pulled my phone out, unlocking it with a thumb that didn’t particularly feel steady. Notifications flooded the screen. Mentions, tags, messages. Too many of them. My breath hitched as I tapped on one. It was a link that led me to the campus page. I opened it. At first it didn’t register. A clean and polished headline. One would could easily have assumed it was regular editorial.

I put my counter chair under my doorknob, since my landlord still hasn’t fixed the deadbolt. Then I plug in my ancient phone to see if I got any messages. There are two voicemails. “This message is for Billie Black, this is Tricia from the Wesley Dance Scholarship fund. We’re pleased to inform you of your acceptance. Terms will be sent to your email, there will be a housing and equipment stipend. Since your acceptance is so last-minute, there was only one housing spot available, on campus. Welcome to Crescent University. We’ll see you Monday.” My jaw is dropped, and the second voicemail plays.