Zoe shook out her hair and undid the top button of her coat before she straightened her shoulders, strode determinedly up to the door and knocked. A few seconds later, it swung half-open. The dull thud of music flowed out of the gap, in which a broad-shouldered boy leant against the frame, his hood pulled up. His eyes wandered down our bodies. When he reached the run in my tights, he frowned. ‘Password?’
I bit my lower lip to hold back a snort.
Zoe jabbed a warning elbow into my ribs and beamed at him. ‘Sturnus vulgaris,’ she said, voice lowered.
He nodded slowly and opened the door wider. ‘In you come. Down the corridor, turn right. Just follow the music.’
Before I could think better of it, Zoe grabbed my arm and yanked me inside. ‘Stu… what?’ I asked under my breath.
‘Sturnus vulgaris.’ She was dragging me impatiently down a long corridor. The floor was patterned like a chess board, the walls hung with gold-framed portraits in oil. Whatever kind of building this was, it certainly lived up to the college’s traditionalist reputation. ‘It’s the scientific name for the common starling. You know, like the bird.’
This time, I didn’t bother holding back the snort. ‘Seriously?’
Zoe threw me an exasperated look. ‘Mabel, you promised!’
‘Fine, fine.’ I was undoing my coat as we turned the corner. ‘At least we didn’t need to bring birdseed to get in, I guess.’
‘Starlings are a lot more impressive than you think,’ said a deep voice ahead of us.
Zoe and I both stopped short, staring at the young man leaning against a plinth a few yards in front of us, his head level with the bust on top of it. Both had wavy hair and a faint smile on their symmetrical faces. His eyes swept over Zoe before he turned his attention to me. While her face broke into a radiant smile, I felt the skin pucker on my arms. This must be Ashton.
‘Oh, yeah? How’s that, then?’ I asked.
With a languid movement he stepped away from the plinth and walked towards us. ‘They’re incredibly intelligent and very observant. They also have the best-trained syrinx of any songbird, which means they can mimic almost anything.’
‘They usually move in flocks, don’t they?’ With an effort I dredged up the only piece of information I had about the species. ‘I think I read that in many places they’re considered vermin, so people take measures to keep the population down.’
‘People often tend to destroy things they feel threatened by. In this case it seems like a rather vain effort. There are still starlings everywhere.’ He smirked, then his eyes were scrutinising Zoe again. Reaching out, he brushed a stray lock of flaxen hair from her face with the tips of his fingers. ‘If you ask me, they’re the true kings of the sky.’ Gently, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘Hello, Anima.’
I didn’t even bother to ask if that was a term of endearment or if he’d simply forgotten her name. Probably it was just another one of thosesturnustype things.
Zoe blushed, murmuring a soft ‘hi’ and smiling rapturously. She seemed to have forgotten I was there.
Ashton had not. He turned, looking at me with interest. ‘So. You must be the fabled friend. Zoe’s told me a lot about you. Says you’re the cleverest person she’s ever met.’
I couldn’t quite tell if that was a trace of mockery I caught in his voice. Everything about him was so perfect, so glossy, in a way that felt unreal. It was like I was staring at a façade, and there was no telling what–orwho–was concealed behind it. Erring on the side of caution, I made no attempt to return his smile. ‘If I was, I wouldn’t be here. I’m not keen on being kicked out of uni because I got caught at an illicit party.’
Zoe stared at me, aghast, but Ashton laughed, the sound flowing warm and golden through the dim passageway. ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. We never get caught.’ He winked before turning around and beckoning us to follow.
We made towards a room at the end of the corridor, the music drifting from underneath plain double doors. Ashton waited until we came to a halt right behind him before pushing them open.
If Zoe hadn’t dragged me over the threshold, I probably would have stayed there, rooted to the spot, overwhelmed by all the sensory input. It was just so… unexpected. I didn’t go to a lot of student parties, but I knew they weren’t generally likethis.
A large room, almost a hall. Music, slow, not much bass, and not so loud that snatches of conversation couldn’t filter through. Dim pools of light around candles placed on wooden tables. Velvet sofas and dark carpets. Oil portraits on the walls, the faces scowling down at us disapprovingly. Muted tones, both the furnishings and the clothes of the guests. Swaying dresses, blouses with ornate stand-up collars, skirts tight at the waist. Plain rollneck jumpers, here and there a jacket tossed over the back of a chair. Straight-cut trousers, leather shoes, socks with embroidered hems.
In seconds I had spotted the odd ones out. Roughly a dozen of them, actually: people who did not fit in. Shirts too pleated, dresses too colourful. Zoe was one of them, because her dress gleamed silver. So was I, because… well, everything.
I curled my fingers into the stretched-out hem of my grey wool jumper, ill at ease. The safety pin I’d used to fasten my skirt poked uncomfortably into my waist as I followed Zoe.
I couldn’t get a sense of how many people were there. Some were lounging on soft furniture, others reclining against the pale grey walls. Two young men played chess at a table at the back of the room, while on the opposite side a couple kissed by the slightly open window. In the middle of the room, two women were playing a piano, the lid of which was cluttered with glasses and candles.
Well, this is weird, I thought, as Zoe whispered to me, her eyes huge, ‘Isn’t it the coolest thing you’ve ever seen?’
I was about to answer when I saw I’d already lost her attention. Ashton had taken her hand and was drawing her towards an old drinks trolley at the other end of the room.
As I lost sight of her tulle dress among the mass of shadowy figures, I had a bad feeling. Zoe had met her fair share of oddballs, sure, but this one seemed to be in a class of his own.
For a minute or two I just stood there, worrying at the fabric of my jacket, which was draped over my arm. The more I looked, the more I began to feel like this wasn’t a party at all. More of a cult meeting. What I really wanted was to fish out my mirror compact and take a look at myself–that was the only thing that even remotely helped when I felt this isolated and out of place.
