Chapter 9
The morning air in upstate New York was crisp, carrying the sharp, earthy scent of pine needles and damp soil—a jarring, welcome contrast to the relentless exhaust and asphalt heat of Manhattan. Leo pedaled his vintage brown bicycle up the long, winding limestone driveway that led to the main entrance of the institute. The campus was an architectural masterpiece of red-brick Gothic buildings draped in thick, emerald-green ivy, surrounded by sprawling lawns where clusters of incoming students mingled nervously under the shade of towering maples.
His heavy canvas backpack rested securely on his shoulders, and the cardboard box containing his belongings was safely strapped to the rear rack. As he coasted to a halt near the grand stone steps of the administration building, Leo unstrapped his box and stood beside his bicycle, taking a slow, deep breath to steady his racing pulse. Around him, expensive cars dropped off students laden with modern luggage and high-end electronics. Amidst the sea of privileged wealth, his vintage bicycle and battered cardboard box made him look distinctly out of place, yet a quiet sense of belonging rooted him firmly to the pavement.
A tall student with messy blonde hair and an open denim jacket walked past, catching sight of Leo's vintage machine. He stopped, stepping closer with an appreciative grin. "Whoa. Is that a genuine late-sixties Raleigh frame? You don't see those restored very often."
Leo blinked, slightly caught off guard by the friendly intrusion. "Yeah, it is. My dad and I rebuilt the crankset a few years back."
"That's incredible," the student said, extending a hand. "I'm Sam. Civil engineering, freshman."
"Leo," he replied, shaking Sam's hand firmly. "Mechanical engineering."
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"Brutal department," Sam laughed, shaking his head. "Expect sleepless nights and endless calculus. But the labs are state-of-the-art."
Before Leo could respond, a sharp, elegant chime rang out from the nearby administration clock tower, signaling the official start of orientation week. Students began drifting toward the massive oak doors of the main hall. Leo secured his bicycle to a heavy wrought-iron rack near the entrance, ensuring the chain lock clicked securely into place. He adjusted his backpack, grabbed his cardboard box, and joined Sam as they walked up the stone steps together, stepping into a vaulted hall filled with echoing footsteps, nervous chatter, and the undeniable promise of a new beginning.
