“You won’t be saying that when they get you locked up in their basement or something.” Ava shudders, then whisper-yells, “You know those rumors about them being financed by mafia money? I totally believe it. And I’m definitely not going to let you be chopped up nineties mafia movie style.”
“We’re in a country of law,” Cecily says with pure determination, and she even sounds to believe it.
“Law is bullshit to some people,” I say, feeling the terror from two days ago mounting to my throat.
“What she said.” Ava bobs her head up and down, then flips her blonde ponytail back. “Now, can we go back to the dorm without worrying about finding Ces’s corpse floating in the sea tomorrow?”
I can tell Cecily wants to continue with her original plan, despite our warnings. She’s usually laid back, but not when her things are touched, and I honest to God think she doesn’t give two flying hecks about the reputation of The King’s U’s students.
She might even witness them doing horrendous acts and would choose to psychoanalyze them instead of running the hell away.
Like her hair, she’s silver to me, not really white, and can be smudged with black.
Ava is, without doubt, pink, like her dress, aura, and personality.
“Excuse me?”
A soft voice interrupts my and Ava’s attempts to drag Cecily back with us to the dorms.
We share a small apartment at the top that costs a fortune but at least gives us the chance to stay together.
I stare back to find a petite girl, around my height but way leaner and with a lithe body, standing near REU’s gate. Her brown hair falls to her neck and her blue eyes are big and breathtaking amidst her small features. Juggling a soft pink backpack with a fluffy kitten keychain on one shoulder, she rests her matching suitcase on the asphalt and stares at us.
She’s wearing a purple dress with a lacy hem with an elegance that rivals Ava’s princess wardrobe.
Having the same reaction as me, my friends study her intently. It’s Ava who asks, “Do you need something?”
“Yes, would you please tell me where the School of Art is?”
American.
The new girl, who must be right out of high school, is definitely an American—if the accent is any indication. And while we do have some American students at REU, they’re very few and far between. They always try to get to The King’s U first. It’s also why almost all of us British students don’t even attempt to apply to the other university.
“Are you perhaps lost?” I say with a warm tone, then point behind her. “The King’s U is that way.”
“Oh, I know. They don’t have a ballet school there, so I applied here and luckily got accepted between semesters. I’m going to try and do the college thing aside from ballet, but we’ll see how that goes.” She smiles brightly. “I’m Annika Volkov, by the way. You can call me Anni or Anne. Just not Nika.”
“I’m Ava Nash. A cellist. I study classical music at the School of Arts and Music.”
“Cecily Knight. Psychology major.”
The newcomer, Annika, stares at me expectedly, and I realize she’s waiting for me to also introduce myself.
I’m so out of it lately, it’s a little embarrassing. Maybe I should lock myself in my room for the week to come.
“Glyndon King. I’m a studio art student in the same school as Ava.”
“Nice to meet you all. I’m sure we’ll get along.”
“Judging by your fashion sense, I’m sure we will.” Ava glues herself to Annika’s side. “Let us show you around your new school first.”
Cecily slides her black-framed glasses over her nose and shakes her head in a ‘here we go again’ gesture. Ava has always been the most social out of us, and she’s probably met her match in Annika since they’re chattering happily about fashion and the latest trends.
We let Ava guide Annika through the giant halls as Cecily and I fall a step behind.
I feel a flash of movement in my peripheral vision and I freeze. Slowly, I turn back, only to find some students are buzzing around.
But the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and sweat trickles down my back.