I ran down the stairs, my footsteps echoing in the space, and I figured that by tonight, the rooms would be filled with students when the next trainload arrived. His tall figure was visible through the stained glass in the long, narrow windows cut into the door. My feet paused for a moment as nerves fluttered in my chest before I pulled myself together, scolding myself for being silly.
As soon as I unlocked the door, “Did you sleep well? On the grass.”
“Best sleep ever,” his chocolate eyes twinkled. “Black Sabbath or Metallica? Or maybe Deftones? No, not Deftones.”
“What are you talking about?” I was confused, although I did listen to those bands, but I wasn’t a fanatic. I wasn’t a big fan of any band or genre of music.
He wiggled his finger at me. “Black on black. Metalhead? Metalcore? Definitely not Deathcore.”
“I…don’t know,” I replied, cautious about opening up to him, but finding it odd that he’s firing these questions at me. “I listen to all sorts of music.”
“Yeah, like what?” he pressed, as his stride stepped in line with mine up the stairs, as I caught his eyes sweeping over my face, and I instantly felt self-conscious.
“I don’t know…I’ve been listening to Prince and ABBA lately,” I replied, expecting him to scoff at my taste.
“Yeah, Prince has a mean riff on Purple Rain,” he sounded enthused and friendly, and I was starting to like him.
“What about Dancing Queen? Does that song have a good riff?” I asked him as another gorgeous smile appeared on his face. His whole face lights up and almost turns him into a different person.
“Maybe I’ll listen to that tune later.” I didn’t believe him because even the name Dancing Queen didn’t seem like his taste.
Once we reached the landing, something had shifted behind his eyes, and he became distant and moody. “I’ll see you later,” he said and turned away from me, walking in the opposite direction.
Pausing to watch him disappear into a room, I was surprised that he was only two doors down from mine. Maybe he and I could become good friends, since he seemed alone here, like me.
As soon as I opened my door, I was hit with a disgusting smell coming from my room. It wasn’t too strong yet, but enough to drive me crazy until I found the source. It was definitely coming from my bathroom, so I opened the cabinets and drawers and found nothing. Then I crouched over the shower drain, but the smell had faded, so the cause wasn’t in there.
Outside my window, I could hear students chatting as they walked to the hall for breakfast, but the smell turned me off food for a while. Nothing kills my appetite like the stench of dead things.
I gave up searching for the dead thing for now so I could take a shower and get dressed, but first I messaged Mila to see if she wanted to go orienteering to find our way around campus. She didn’t reply before I jumped into the shower, and once I was slathered in soap and shampoo, I couldn’t smell the dead thing rotting under the floorboards or wherever the hell it was.
The scent had faded a little after I bathed and dressed, and I wondered if it was the smell coming in through the window or from the next room, or maybe my senses were just getting used to it.
Mila had declined my request to explore campus because she wanted to go straight to the music studio to meet a friend there. Jealousy stirred in my stomach. Mila had a friend, and I had something dying under my floorboards. But that’s okay, I didn’t mind going it alone.
I packed my bag because I suspected that I’d be gone for most of the day, and as I left my room, my eyes glided to the door at the end of the hall, wondering if he was still inside. He didn’t tell me his name, so perhaps I should tap on his door and ask him. But as I approached his room, I heard him talking to someone on his speaker phone and a female voice replying.
My heart sank, so I turned away and trotted down the stairs, trying to lift my spirits. My father hadn’t replied to the message I sent yesterday, so I sent another, just stating that I had arrived in one piece and thanks for asking after me. The last comment was sarcasm, of course. But he was becoming more distant ever since he married my wicked stepmother, and I didn’t like it one bit.
I trotted down the stairs as hunger pangs struck after being in my room with the smell, so once outside, I turned left toward the dining hall, hoping they were still serving breakfast. The scent of coffee and toast warmed my heart, and I grabbed a cup and a slice of wholegrain bread to toast, then spread peanut butter thickly.
The dining hall was only a third full of students who looked as if they’d been there for a while, but I slotted a lid on my cardboard up and sat down at the same table from last night and studied my map of the campus.
Castlehill School of Business looked as though it was on the side of a forest-covered hill on the far east side of the large campus. I estimated that it will take me about twenty minutes to walk there and about seven minutes by bus. It was a fine day,no sign of rain at that point, even though the temperature and weather could change at any moment on the side of a mountain.
My father finally replied to my message, thank goodness, with:Glad you’re safe and sound, A.
What a bizarre answer! I reread the message I sent him:Why have you sent me across enemy lines? There are people who hate the Boleyn family here. Are you trying to kill me?
Me: The Warwicks are here. Did u know?
Dad:
Me: Specifically, the sons of the actual man who did you know what.
Dad:
Me: His sons. Nikolai and Ezrah are their names. Is it wise for me to stay here?
