The ship groaned as it pushed deeper into the open sea, its massive body slicing through the dark blue water with a steady confidence that felt almost alive, and the sound of the shore slowly faded behind them until it became nothing more than a memory nobody could reach anymore. The students crowded along the rails at first, their fingers wrapped around the cold metal, their eyes stretching toward the distance where land had once been, and Newton stood among them with his hands buried inside his pockets, staring at the empty horizon and wondering why his chest suddenly felt heavier than his bag.
Some of the girls wiped their eyes quietly, turning away so nobody would notice, and a few boys pretended to laugh loudly, forcing excitement into their voices as if they could trick themselves into believing they were not afraid. Newton remained silent, his fingers brushing against the locket beneath his shirt, feeling its shape, its presence, its promise.
Then the sharp sound of a trumpet pierced the air.
It came suddenly, clean and commanding, echoing across the deck like a signal meant to wake something sleeping inside them.
A man's voice followed immediately.
"It is time for your welcoming party."
The sadness scattered at once.
The students turned toward the sound as if pulled by invisible strings, their curiosity rising faster than their fear could hold them back, and within moments they began moving, their footsteps quick and eager as they followed the uniformed attendants toward the grand hall inside the ship.
Newton hesitated for a brief second before following, his shoes tapping softly against the polished floor as he stepped inside, and the moment he crossed the doorway, he froze without meaning to.
The inside of the ship was nothing like he had imagined.
It did not feel like a ship.
It felt like a palace.
Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling like frozen stars, their light spilling over marble floors so smooth Newton could see his own reflection staring back at him, and long golden curtains draped along the walls, moving gently as the ship breathed.
The air smelled rich.
Warm.
Expensive.
The students' voices filled the space, rising in excitement, their earlier homesickness swallowed completely by the beauty surrounding them, and Newton walked slowly behind them, afraid that if he moved too fast, the place would disappear.
They were guided to a massive dining hall where round tables stretched across the room in perfect order, each covered in white cloth and shining silverware, and the students quickly found their seats, their eyes moving everywhere at once, afraid to miss anything.
Newton adjusted his black suit as he sat down, his fingers brushing the sleeves carefully, remembering how his mother had stood in front of him two nights ago, fixing the collar with trembling hands, her eyes soft but worried.
"You must look respectable," she had said quietly.
Now he sat taller.
Straighter.
Trying to honor that moment.
"You are looking dashing, man."
Newton turned his head and saw Stella watching him with a teasing smile, her eyes moving over his suit as she leaned closer, her phone already in her hand.
"I should take a picture of you and send it to your girlfriend."
Newton felt heat rise to his face, but he did not stop her as she raised the phone, and instead he straightened his shoulders and adjusted his tie, forcing confidence into his expression as the camera clicked.
"If the picture was meant for Amalia, I have to present myself well," he said, trying to sound calm even though his heart had already begun beating faster at the thought of her seeing it.
Stella laughed softly, lowering the phone as she examined the image.
"She is going to miss you," she said.
Newton did not answer.
Because he already knew.
A sudden movement at the front of the hall pulled everyone's attention forward.
The government representative climbed onto the stage, his polished shoes reflecting the light, his uniform pressed perfectly as he stood behind the podium, his eyes scanning the room slowly, carefully, as if counting them without moving his lips.
"Welcome," he began, his voice smooth and steady, carrying easily across the hall.
The students leaned forward.
Listening.
"You have been selected for a special experience," he continued, his hands resting behind his back.
"You are entitled to three square meals and one wine every day, prepared by the finest chefs, and during the day you may remain on the upper deck to view the beauty of the sea."
A murmur of excitement moved through the room.
He smiled faintly.
"And during the night, you will attend dinner parties such as this one."
A boy suddenly jumped to his feet.
"That is it man, I came for fun."
Laughter erupted around him, and Newton recognized him immediately.
Briam Stonebell.
Newton's stomach tightened.
He could still remember the last time Briam had cornered him behind the school building, the taste of blood in his mouth, the sound of his friends laughing, and Newton lowered his eyes quickly, hoping Briam would not notice him now.
His stomach growled suddenly.
Loud.
Embarrassing.
Samuel leaned closer at once.
"Do not worry man, we are here to protect you."
Newton forced a smile, nodding slowly, even though something inside him whispered that protection did not always arrive on time.
The music began shortly after.
Soft violin notes drifted through the air, wrapping around the students like invisible hands, and dancers stepped onto the stage, their movements smooth and perfect, their bodies floating across the floor as if gravity had forgotten them.
Newton watched without blinking.
He had never seen anything like it before.
The night moved forward in a blur of color and sound, plates arriving one after another, each meal more beautiful than the last, and when Newton took his first bite, he froze.
The taste exploded in his mouth.
Rich.
Warm.
Unfamiliar.
He had never eaten anything like it.
"Take some wine, man."
Samuel's voice broke his thoughts as he poured the dark red liquid into the glass in front of Newton, the wine catching the light like liquid blood.
Newton stared at it.
"No," he said finally.
"I do not drink alcohol."
He hesitated before adding quietly.
"My mother will break my head if she finds out."
Stella laughed.
"Come on, my dear," she said, her voice playful as she leaned closer.
She glanced around the room.
"Who is going to tell her?"
Newton followed her gaze.
The hall was alive with noise and laughter.
Nobody was watching him.
Nobody cared.
He could drink it.
Nobody would know.
His fingers moved slightly toward the glass.
Then stopped.
He shook his head.
"She might ask," he said.
"And I do not want to lie to her."
Stella raised her hands in surrender.
They did not press him further.
The party continued long into the night, but eventually Newton stood, his body tired, his mind heavy, and he excused himself quietly before anyone could stop him.
He stepped out into the hallway, the sound of laughter fading behind him, replaced by silence.
His footsteps echoed softly as he walked alone.
He did not see the eyes watching him from the corner.
Briam leaned against the wall, his arms folded, his lips curled into a faint smile as Newton's figure disappeared down the corridor.
"Come on, man," one of his friends whispered beside him.
"His girlfriend is not here."
"Let's beat him up once more."
Briam remained still.
Watching.
Thinking.
Then he shook his head slowly.
"No."
His voice was calm.
"It is too early for that."
He pushed himself off the wall.
"I do not want to get into trouble with the authorities very early."
His smile returned.
Cold.
Patient.
"We will do that towards the end of the trip."
His friends laughed quietly.
And far down the corridor, unaware of the decision made behind him, Newton walked to his room, his hand resting over the locket beneath his shirt, his heart calm for now.
And so Newton walked free for the first one week of the trip.
The days blended into each other until time itself began to feel soft and meaningless, like the ship had cut them away from the real world and placed them inside something that existed only for pleasure, and the students stopped counting how far they had gone because every new day gave them something else to hold on to
That afternoon, the sun hung wide and golden above the sea, pouring light over the endless water until everything shimmered like polished glass, and the students crowded the upper deck where music played from hidden speakers, laughter mixing with the sound of waves slamming gently against the ship's body
Newton leaned forward against the rail, his fingers gripping the metal as he stared into the deep blue, his eyes squinting as he searched the moving surface
Then suddenly he pointed
"Ooooh, there has to be a big fish out there