Dear Miss Quinn: it began.
This message is to confirm your placement in Stormcloud Academy’s first-year class, commencing at the beginning of the spring term. Financial obligations associated with your admission have been fully satisfied by a favored patron who wishes to remain anonymous. Should you not be present on the first day of term, your enrollment will be forfeited and no refund granted. Congratulations on the opportunity to matriculate to our exemplary institution. Stormcloud Academy has educated the globe’s elite for more than three centuries. With your admission, you join a storied lineage of alumni who include kings, political leaders, titans of industry…
It went on from there. I read it three times to be certain of what it said.
It must have been directed to someone else, but it would have been too much of a coincidence. Stormcloud Academy was located at the shared borders of Italy, France, and Switzerland. I only figured that out because I grabbed my phone and pulled up Google maps to see if it was even a thing.
It was. Right there on my phone screen. My tuition was paid in full, sponsored by someone who wanted to remain anonymous. Anonymous?
I was to begin class at the start of the spring term. Two weeks away.
Tears rose to the rims of my eyes and flowed openly down my cheeks. It was, undoubtedly, my dad’s gift to me. He knew how badly I wanted to go to Harvard. He’d had a contingency plan for my education. This was an exclusive academy with a lot of old money behind it. It could open doors for me, maybe even the doors of Harvard. Dad knew that and was probably going to surprise me with the announcement after I tried a little on my own. He would let me test my wings before giving me a hand up. I loved him for that. Now he was gone. I swore right then and there that I would find a way to parlay this into an Ivy League admission next year, no matter what it took. I’d do it for him and hope he was watching.
Ten days later, I stood outside the condo and had one last look. My plans had changed, and I was bound for the airport and a plane to Switzerland. I’d sold or given away everything I couldn’t fit into my suitcase.
A clean start. No looking back. I took a deep breath and shut the back door of the Uber, looking forward so I wouldn’t cry. I tried hard not to think of it as an ending but as the beginning chapter of my new life. Somehow, though, it felt sad and scary. I missed Dad. I pictured him waving goodbye from the front porch.
The flight wasn’t as long as it had been to India, and the passengers were considerably different. These were mostly bespoke suit businesspeople with black-rimmed glasses and perpetual scowls. As financial types, they didn’t waste time on idle conversation or even polite smiles. They lived not in years but in minutes and knew the value of each one. I wondered how many of them had graduated from Harvard. That gave me something to think about until I dozed off.
The captain’s voice over the intercom brought me out of the last vestiges of sleep. It was the same old adjust your seats upright and fasten your seatbelts. A look out the window revealed a gorgeous landscape. I would catch a bus from the airport directly to Stormcloud Academy. If all went smoothly, I would arrive late but sleep in my dorm room that night.
If all went smoothly was the key phrase.
Chapter 2
Biba
My eyes opened as the bucketing and swaying of the bus thumped my nodding forehead against the window.
I nearly had a heart attack as I realized how close we were hugging the steep cliffside that plunged down along a twisting road without guardrails.
We finally came to a stop. There were other students on the bus, but to my luck, I found myself crammed between two old Italian women with huge bosoms and black chin hairs. They were debating something in Italian—not angrily, but the language intonation made everything sound like the declaration of war. I watched as the passengers at the front half of the bus grabbed bags from overhead and shuffled out into the night. I followed suit, but not until each of my Italian seatmates gave me a suffocating embrace of bosoms and garlic. I almost hated to leave them behind. They seemed to be the sort of women who would have my back if anyone tried to mess with me. I put that thought away.
I could take care of myself.
Dad had prepared me for a lifetime, even though I would always be daddy’s little girl. I could get through it on my own.
As it turned out, there was a white van waiting with the Stormcloud Academy logo emblazoned in gold on its side. It screamed money. I knew this place wasn’t going to be cheap, but I could already smell the scent of rich people. I hefted my backpack and gripped the handles of my bulbous luggage, taking that first steep step into the vehicle. The weight threw me off balance, causing my shoulder to crash into the doorway. Raucous, young male voices shouted disgusting things, but no one came forward to give me a hand. Even the driver stared straight ahead. Well, my life of taking care of myself had suddenly begun.