“Is Director Clausen gifted?” I ask as we walk, happy for any distraction that puts my fairytale back on track.
Maria glances back at me, but doesn’t slow her pace. “You mean, like you? No. He’s just dedicated to helping those who are.”
“What about you?”
“No.”
“Are any of the staff gifted?”
“Some are. Most aren’t.”
“Which ones are?”
“I can’t answer that.”
“Which ones aren’t?”
I smile to myself at her annoyed look. The thing is, it’s hard not to ask questions when you constantly get answers you don’t want. I know it’s a problem, and that’s reason number seventeen I’m here. I’m about to try something less controversial like ballpoint versus gel pens, when I freeze.
Reason number one nearly tramples us in the main hallway.
My gaze locks on the wave of students. Laughter lifts from one cluster, excited chatter from several others. Multiple couples pass holding hands, and I study their entwined fingers with fascination. Fine—with longing. It’s almost like high school again, well, what I remember before dropping out in tenth grade. Everyone in high school thinks they’re alone. I was one of the few who actually was. Friends don’t exactly line up when you invade their minds. There are ghosts in there, and no one’s a good enough liar to pretend there aren’t. Madison Academy is the place that’s supposed to accept that. Clausen promised my nineteen years of isolation would end the day I got sucked into this hallway. He promised there’d be others like me. Freaks and outcasts and monsters who also know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself. He promised this was the place I’d learn to laugh. I stare down at my fingers, imagining them wrapped around someone else’s.
“The Birchwood Suite is somewhat isolated from the other dorms, but two of its residents are highly respected students at this school.”
I blink and force my attention back to the impatient guide. “Why were you surprised when Director Clausen said I’d be staying in the Birchwood Suite?”
She fails at another tight smile. “No reason. I thought it was full, that’s all.”
I don’t believe her, but there’s no point in asking for more lies. I steel myself for whatever surprise waits in the mysterious Birchwood Suite. Spirits, demons? Maybe vampires. I can think of worse things. Prom committee.
Then again, who needs monsters when there are so many living faces to explore? I want to memorize each one, but Maria doesn’t stop for introductions. We’re on a mission, and I try to stem my irritation as she careens us from one hallway to the next. She’s just doing her job, but she also has no idea what it’s like to duck around potential friends I’ve waited nineteen years to meet. She probably has a boyfriend and weekly card nights with the girls. Best friends, dinner parties, night clubs. Okay, maybe not, but she’s got her closet organizing club. I’d give anything to organize closets with real friends.
I’m out of breath from our sprint through the maze of corridors and staircases by the time we climb another labeled: North Wing. The castle-mansion seems a hundred times bigger from the inside, and I’m pretty sure we passed the same room twice. Why couldn’t they build a new facility with actual dorms? Converting old, creepy mansions is one of those things eccentric rich people do, not prestigious Ivy League universities with mountains of grant money for pet projects like Madison Academy. I consider asking for a map when we finally stop before an ornate door straight out of any girl’s princess fantasy.
I stare at the brass nameplate with Birchwood etched in severe script and fight the urge to duck behind the carved oak doorjamb. If there are demons on the other side, I don’t want them to sense my fear. Kind of funny, considering my own monster complex is reason number two that I’m here.
Maria knocks, and I brace myself for the fires of Hell. Maybe I even squint against imaginary flames as she opens the door to reveal a very normal, handsomely adorned sitting area. It even has two well-dressed angels reclined in the leather chairs. Huh. I hadn’t considered angels.
One of them rises, and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen his bust on several pianos and mantels throughout my life.
“You must be Rebecca,” he says with a breathtaking smile. His voice breezes through me like a sexy sonata. “We heard about your arrival. I’m Ben.”
My pulse pounds in an alarming pang of attraction. My gaze fixates on him in awe and concern. He’s beautiful, sure, but I’m not the type to fall into easy crushes. I’m confused, not smitten, when I take the hand he offers, and quickly pull back after a brief shake. Skin-to-skin contact again? I don’t like how this place has made me abandon nineteen years of carefully crafted rules so quickly. I turn to the other woman who seems less eager to connect with me. At least it should be easy to stay on guard around this one.
“Hi. I’m Laura.” Her facial muscles barely move with her greeting.
I lift a hand anyway in an awkward wave. “I’m Rebecca. I mean… sorry. You know that.”
Ben chuckles, but Laura doesn’t even pretend I’m welcome. She clearly doesn’t like me, but why? It makes no sense for her to be jealous. I can’t possibly be competition for a goddess supermodel angel who makes those jeans look like runway material. I squirm beneath their divergent appraisals and decideMaria probably wasn’t worried about Birchwood monsters at all. Like I said, there are worse things. Things like my new role as fifth wheel to the campus golden couple.
Vampires are starting to look really good.
“Well, I’ll leave you to get acquainted. Your things should have been sent up, but let me know if you’re missing anything.”
“We’ll take good care of her, Maria,” Ben says, and I don’t miss her stiff nod during her retreat. He closes the door with a smirk.
“She hates us,” Laura mutters, and Ben shoots her a look. “What? She does.”
