Chapter 9 Ella

Chapter 9 Ella
The days passed by slowly and uneventful. It’s the weekend already, but I had no plans. Sophia was on the phone with Alex.

“Will you follow us to the race tonight? Alex is asking,” Sophia said, waiting for a response.

“Yeah, I have nothing to do anyway,” I replied, already feeling a spark of excitement deep down.

“What got you so excited?” Sophia teased.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m always excited,” I denied, feeling my cheeks grow warm.

“Yeah, girl, whatever you say. It’s not like you’re blushing right now or something,” she said, laughing.

I hid my face in my pillow, already thinking about what to wear. There was still time, it was only twelve noon and the race began at ten p.m. Having nothing to do, I decided to sleep again. When I woke up, it was just two p.m. Why was time so slow today?

“Why are you staring at the time every single minute?” Sophia asked, clearly amused. “Are you that excited to see Damien?”

“Who said I want to see him?” I said,trying hard to keep a serious expression.

Sophia just rolled her eyes, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Let’s get a portable sewing machine,” I suggested, needing something to take my mind off the time.

“Sure, school starts Monday anyway,” she replied, getting dressed. She wore black jorts, a white cropped shirt, and white sneakers. Simple and cute. Her hair was down.

I wore a black tank top with grey sweatpants and black Adidas slides. I put my hair up in a messy bun. The craft shop was just down the street.

The cashier greeted us as we walked in. We headed straight to the sewing machine section. There were different colors and models, each with its own functions listed beside it.

“I like the white one,” Sophia said, pointing.

“I’m leaning towards the black one because it’s less expensive,” I replied.

“Well, the white one is just two dollars more. Let’s get it,” I said after thinking it through.

We left after paying. Since we’d already gotten our school supplies yesterday, there wasn’t much else to buy. I checked the time, four p.m. Only two hours had passed?

Sophia burst into laughter. I looked at her, confused, but she said nothing. I found myself scrolling aimlessly on my phone.

“It makes no difference if you keep checking the time,” Sophia said suddenly from behind me. I hadn’t even noticed her walk in. “Just eat lunch and sleep again,” she suggested, shrugging her shoulders as she walked away.

She had no reason to be bored , she was always on the phone with Alex. I scoffed.

“Do you want pizza?” she asked from the room. “I already ordered.”

“Yeah,” I replied.

Five minutes later, the bell rang. I rushed to open the door and grabbed the pizza. After eating, I followed Sophia’s advice and slept off.

When I woke up, it was finally time to dress up. I wore black denim shorts, a white tube top paired with a black leather jacket, and knee-high black boots. I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and did simple makeup.

“Ohhh, someone took their time to doll up today,” Sophia said teasing.

I ignored her comment, though my stomach fluttered nervously. She wore a short black bodycon gown with a black leather jacket and boots. Her hair was curled, her makeup on point — she looked sexy and hot.

Alex honked outside and we headed to the car. They made small talk at the front while I tried not to stare at the time on my phone.

We arrived at the alley near the racing tracks , it looked exactly the same as the last time I was here. The bikers were lined up at the starting point. I scanned their faces, but I didn’t see Damien.

“Alex, are all riders here already?” I asked, still trying to spot his hair or eyes.

“Oh, Damien can’t race today. He got into a little accident earlier,” he said casually. “The race won’t be as epic.”

I heard giggling beside me — Sophia was trying to hold back her laughter but failed miserably.

“I just noticed the bikers were one less, so I had to ask,” I said, glaring at her. That only made her laugh harder.

“Are you disappointed? You dressed up and he's not here to see it.” she said between fits of laughter.

I hated that she was right.

The race started, but I was too annoyed to watch. After it ended, we went home. I was angry, so I took a cold shower and fell asleep.

The weekend passed quickly.

I woke up feeling refreshed on Monday. It was our first day at Havenbrook. I wore a white long-sleeved shirt tucked into black pants with a black suit vest and red heels. I straightened my hair and wore it down.

Sophia wore a white long-sleeved shirt tucked into a short black flare skirt with a black vest, red heels, and a red beret. Her hair was down too.

“Will you be wearing berets every day?” I asked, laughing, slightly worried.

“Yes, almost all the time. It’s my thinking hat,” she said, adjusting it proudly.

Sophia did our makeup and we were ready to go. At the receptionist’s desk, we got our IDs and folders that read Welcome to Havenbrook in shiny golden letters.

The orientation hall was bright and spacious. Everyone looked their best in oversized blazers, skirts — each person showing off their fashion sense.

I spotted two empty seats beside a girl and dragged Sophia along.

“I’m so nervous and excited,” Sophia whispered, holding my hands.

“Me too, girl! We’re really here,” I said, squeezing her hands gently.

“First day nerves?” the girl beside me asked with a smile.

I nodded sharply.

“Me too,” she said, and we both laughed.

The head of department walked onto the stage, and the room fell silent. She wore all black, a tape measure draped around her neck like a necklace.

“Welcome to Havenbrook,” she said, her voice steady and warm. “Here, we don’t just sew clothes, we bring imagination to life. What you create here will carry your name long after you leave.”

Her words sent a small shiver down my spine. I looked up at the screen as pictures of past students' collections flashed by — flowing gowns, streetwear pieces, bold experimental designs. I was mesmerized. I wanted to create something breathtaking too.

After the speech, we were divided into groups for a campus tour. The guide led us through the illustration room first ,the walls were covered in sketches and color palettes. Then the textile lab, where the air smelled faintly of fabric dye and starch.

But it was the sewing studio that stole my breath.

Rows of sewing machines lined the tables, threads stacked in neat rainbow towers. Mannequins stood everywhere , some half-dressed in fabric, others pinned and marked for fitting. I ran my fingers lightly along the edge of a worktable, trying to take it all in.

“This is where the magic happens,” our guide said with a grin.

At the end of the tour, our instructor gave us a simple task: sketch an outfit that represents who you are.

I froze for a moment, then opened my sketchbook. My pencil moved awkwardly at first, but soon the lines began to flow — quiet, sure, alive.

When I looked up, the room was buzzing with energy. I caught my reflection in the window, eyes focused, a small smile tugging at my lips. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I belonged.

I glanced at Sophia. She was lost in her own world too.

“In fashion, always go wild with your imagination,” the instructor said as she ended the class.

“What did you draw?” I asked Sophia.

“I drew a blazer and pants. I added a lot of details to the blazer,” she said, smirking. “It was too hard to choose — that was my last resort.”

“It explains why you were so immersed in your work earlier,” I said.

“What about you?” she asked.

“I just drew the first thing on my mind, a short jumpsuit with a halter neckline. I pictured you wearing it.” I replied

“Make sure you sew it for me then,” she said, smiling.

I nodded.

We got home, took our showers, and slept early. Tomorrow, lectures will begin properly. We needed all the sleep we could get.