Page 9 of Veiled

A feeling of obligation to make sure my new neighbor is okay takes over, concern pushing me each extra step to her door.

I lift my hand to knock, but freeze. What’s the proper etiquette when barging in and meeting your neighbor for the first time in a maybe emergency? Knock awkwardly and hope she hears it? Walk in and pray to the gods she isn’t the throw daggers first, ask questions later type?

Ugh, I am completely overthinking this. Taking a deep breath, I decide on a combo: a light knock, and then gently push the door open.

The door creaks open an inch before there’s a low thud from whatever stops it from opening further.

“Hello? Are you ok?”

Nothing. Maybe she’s hurt in the bathroom and can’t hear me?

Putting my full body weight into the next push, whatever is behind the door slides a few more inches, just enough for me to slip my head inside. The room can only be described as a war zone of clothes, gear, and what I’m hoping are spell-casting supplies next to the desk, which is lying on its side.

A girl my age with a cascade of soft brown hair that frames a face sprinkled with freckles is hopping on one foot near the window, clutching the other and cursing with words that sound like a kid made them up. She hasn’t even noticed me yet.

“Uh…hi?” I offer, still mostly hidden behind the door. “Are you okay?”

“Oh. Great. A witness,” she mutters to herself, grimacing as she limps toward me. “Yeah, I’m fine. Conducting a very scientific experiment in how many things I can trip over in ten seconds.”

“I’d say you’re breaking records,” I joke, trying to ease her tension.

She sighs, her brown eyes flicking up to mine for the first time—quick and uncertain, but warm.

“I’m Sasha,” she says, voice soft but steady. “Sorry you had to, um…see all that.”

“Don't worry about it. I’ve definitely made worse entrances. I’m Annalise, friends call me Lee. I just moved into the room next door. Charlie Company.”

“I’m Charlie Company, too!” she practically shouts at me, which leads to an awkwardly long stretch of silence. She glances around at the scattered mess, cheeks coloring slightly. “This…wasn’t really how I imagined meeting my hallmate.”

“Hey, could’ve been worse,” I say. “Now you have someone to help you move this desk back and to make sure you don’t accidentally set our building on fire in the process. Dare I ask what happened?”

Sasha lets out a small giggle, the tension in her shoulders easing a little bit. “That would actually be really helpful, thanks! I was trying to make things feel less like a cell, but then I tripped over my stuff, kicked the corner of my bed, and considered throwing it all out the window so I don’t have to deal with it. Buuut, accepting your offer to help may be the more rational choice.”

“Just a little,” I say with a wink as I squeeze the rest of the way inside. “And look on the bright side, we lucked out and got rooms free of ghosts and mattresses without suspicious stains.” It's only partially a joke, but I feel like it might be too soon to tell her that this is luxurious compared to the very real jail cell I’ve been living in for the last few months, vile mattress and all.

Sasha nods, her voice lowering to a whisper. “Right? I heard a girl last year on the first floor swore her room was haunted because her armoire door kept opening on its own.”

She pauses for suspense, and I take the bait.

“Was it ghosts? A prank? Come on, you can’t keep me hanging!”

“Plot twist—it was her cat!” she breaks into laughter. “It snuck into one of her suitcases and was hiding behind her clothes for a few weeks. She only found out because the cat happened to be hiding under her bed when she was searching for a shirt she wanted to wear out on the first free weekend. Supposedly, it had been climbing in and out of her window and was finding mice and other rodents to eat while she was in class.”

I snort. “That’s oddly comforting. Maybe the academy should invest in some cats.”

As we right the desk and I help her refold her clothes, we fall into easy conversation.

“I’m not sure how much dragons like cats, but I could be convinced to keep one.” Her face turns serious. “Okay, Annalise, tell me everything. Right now.” I freeze. How could she already know?

Then she continues, “Where are you from? Why are you here? And most importantly, what are your go-to late-night snacks?”

I raise an eyebrow and laugh in relief. “Wow, straight for the deep, soul-baring questions, huh?”

“Hey, if we’re going to navigate this place together, I need to know if we’re compatible on the sacred snack level.”

I take a deep breath. She’ll find out about me soon enough, and I guess I’d rather she hears it from me. “Fair. Well, I’m from South Hollow—about a ten-hour drive from here. My best friend Matt and I were sentenced to be here…” I pause, bracing for her to freak out or make an excuse to get me out of her room. But she doesn’t. She just waits, calm, curious.

Ok, going better than I thought it would.