by J. N. Colon
I gave up on the sweater and tugged the pleated gray skirt, attempting to make it longer. That was a bust too.
I hooked a finger in my sweater, pulling it down to reveal the tiny star shaped pink scar on the left side of my chest thankful it was covered. I fell out of a tree when I was five and a branch stabbed me on the way down. I didn’t actually remember the accident, but my parents claimed I hit my head too.
The tip of my finger traced the raised skin, knowing a few millimeters over and it would have pierced my heart. I’d be worm food.
I was lucky not to remember. It probably hurt like hell.
I forced those memories or lack thereof away and turned my attention to my hair, which took all of three seconds. Down. I never did anything with it. It had a mind of its own. Two minds actually. The dark strands had a split personality, claiming they were brown and other times deciding to be black. And currently it was a mess of dark brown waves mixed with straight as a board chunks. Like I said—personality disorder.
I leaned toward the mirror, the gold frame glinting in the soft overhead lights, and checked my teeth for food. They were unusually spotless. My nerves had trumped my appetite since yesterday.
My lips rested back over my teeth, making me grimace. You know those models with perfectly pouty mouths? I wasn’t one of them. My lips were huge. They looked like the result of bee stings or like I’d been punched in the mouth too many times. And I had one dimple. Who just had one dimple?
I self-consciously touched my face, wondering why I had to be so effing weird.
On a semi-good note my eyes were okay. Dark lashes line bright honey colored orbs, but the drawback was they were big and round like bug eyes. Oh well. At least I was fit. Swimming laps in my pool at home was responsible for that.
My face suddenly dropped, disappointed at the prospect of missing those hours of swimming. I wouldn’t be doing any laps at Highland. There was probably a creepy indoor pool hidden away in the basement with Nessy’s twin sleeping on the bottom, waiting for juicy legs to munch on. No thanks.
I left the mirror and trudged down the empty corridor toward my first class, my mood darker than ever and nerves raw with trepidation.
Anderson Hall, where my first class was held, was less lustrous than the dorms and office building and yet still managed to make me feel out of place. High arches pulled the ceiling into shadows and iron scones lined the walls between pewter lockers and heavy wooden doors. My mouth turned dry as my Mary Janes echoed ominously on the hard floors.
The classroom was every bit as daunting as the rest of Highland. Everything was dark, dark, dark. Deep mahogany on the floor, polished wood wainscoting on the walls, jet black chalkboard, and deep stained desks. The leering students made the unnerving and terrifying picture complete.
“We have a new student everyone.” The history teacher’s clipped, upper crust British voice interrupted the speculation. His shiny bald head gleamed from the antique light fixtures as he twisted his white handlebar mustache in anticipation. He wore a boring brown three piece suit with a crumpled burgundy handkerchief hanging out the vest pocket. “This is Rubiks Moon-Gem McHale.”
Laughter exploded through the room like wildfire. A tall boy with a golden halo of hair and hooded hazel eyes was especially verbal.
Embarrassment burned my face like always when my full name was spoken, a product of my parents’ attempt at a unique compromise. My father held the record for the fastest Rubik’s cube solver at Duke and my mother—well she was a hippy and liked the word moon-gem. So naturally they thought it would be a great name for a little girl.
Wrong on so many levels.
I cleared my throat. “I go by Rubi.” My voice came out squeakier than usual.
Professor Forsyth’s lips twitched and satisfaction sparkled in his beady black eyes. “In this classroom we go by our real names.” He turned his back to scribble on the chalkboard. “Not some silly nickname, Rubiks Moon-Gem.”
He just had to add my middle name.
A boy a few rows away pressed a textbook to his face in an attempt to mask his laughter. All I could see were his large pale hands and shock of midnight hair spilling over the pages.
I slumped even lower in my seat, gritting my teeth against the stinging tears forming in my eyes.
How was I going to make it through the rest of the day let alone three months?
The remainder of the day continued in the same manner. Most of the rich kids snubbed me, shooting contemptuous sneers or outright poking fun of my name. The girls were the worst. One in particular, Paisley Collins, was exceptionally nasty. I later found out she was my roommate’s best friend.
No sign of any witches in Salem so far, but replace that W with a B and the quota for those had been surpassed.
The rest of the rich kids ignored me completely. They weren’t mean or nice. They weren’t anything at all as if I was invisible. Maybe it was because they were the wealthiest kids and seemed to be a different caliber than the rest of Highland’s student. They were all ridiculously attractive too and a very close knit group, always whispering and shooting covert glances between classes. It was a little more than your average clique behavior.
Maybe they were in a super-rich secret society. That was a possibility at a snooty private school like Highland, right?
I didn’t even bother to eat lunch in the dining hall. Instead I snuck to my room and ate half a bag of teriyaki beef jerky. The end of the day was even worse because normally I’d be going home to my familiar room with sunny beach views. At Highland I had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
The thought of going back to my dorm room after school made me want to impale myself. Aspen was probably there with her followers, laughing at my expense. I thought I’d find an empty common room in the dorm to hide out in for a while. In its extreme overindulgence Hampton Hall had one on each floor. I figured I’d start with mine.
Big mistake.
The wall to wall glossy wood room matched the rest of Hampton Hall’s ritzy atmosphere. Plush leather couches and chairs dotted the space in front of a big screen television and others were dispersed in small congregation areas. Tables and chairs were stationed around and soft muted rugs interrupted the mahogany floors. Two vast marble fire places dowsed everything in warm, flickering light. But of course there were those impenetrable shadows in the corners and the eerie twinge lingering.
This particular common room was busier than I hoped. Students lounged on couches, the boys loosening their ties and the girls—well they wouldn’t dare become unkempt. Sutton Danvers, a friend of my roommate, was perched on the edge of a couch, talking to a senior boy with messy brown hair and soft brown eyes. The girl was already petite and pixy-like, but next to him she looked itty-bitty. He could probably fit her in his pocket and the way Sutton batted her lashes and flipped her dark shoulder length hair she probably wouldn’t mind.
The moment my presence was noticed several pairs of eyes flickered toward me and the snickering began. My face burned with embarrassment as I trekked across the rugs, heading for the mahogany doors leading to another hallway.
Please let me make it out of here before anyone stops me.
Unfortunately I could already see movement in my periphery. A figure shot out and blocked my path several feet from the door.
Paisley glared down at me, her black hair framing her sharp angled face like a curtain. “Hello Rubiks.” She ominously loomed over me, several inches taller. While Paisley was very beautiful and nearly as prissy as Aspen she had a strong, athletic stature.
She probably played field hockey or lacrosse or whatever kind of sports they had in New England.
When I attempted to sidestep her she blocked my path again until I eventually sighed and met her slanted cobalt eyes.
“Were your parents high when they named you?” She giggled and shook her perfectly straight black bangs from her face.
I clenched my teeth and ignored her, simultaneously hating that I wondered the very sa
me thing about my parents.
“You’re from Florida right.” It wasn’t a question. It was clear she already knew the answer from her smug expression. “I bet you went to public school too.”
I nodded and several students wrinkled their noses at the idea. Public school was looking exponentially better the more time I spent at Highland.
“You’re lucky we have to wear uniforms.” Paisley motioned toward mine. “I can just imagine what your wardrobe looks like.” She stepped closer and tugged the handmade shell earing I wore. “These are so tragic.” Ice chilled her eyes, turning them several shades grayer and colder like winter ice. “It matches your hair.”
Laughter echoed around the room, burning my cheeks and I bit my lip to staunch the tears. How could girls like Paisley always sense another’s insecurities?
She proudly glanced over her shoulder to peer at a handsome boy with porcelain skin, spikey blonde hair, and burning gold eyes. He nodded at her approvingly from his lounging position on a couch and she ate it up. But honestly he seemed more bored by her antics than anything even rolling his eyes behind her back. He was one of those exceptionally beautiful and rich students.
Maybe he was above her petty ridicule.
Probably not.
“Do you shop at thrift stores? Or do you get hand-me-downs from charity?”
More laughter resonated until a tall boy stood. “She’s in our dorm Paisley. I think she can afford brand new clothes.”
Some of the other kids blinked as if they were suddenly reminded of that and Paisley’s expression turned murderous. “Shut up Patrick,” she hissed.
He flipped her off before separating his gray sweater from his collared shirt, mussing his short blonde hair.
Paisley crossed her arms against her chest. “Who asked you anyways?”
He ignored her as two girls entered the room—or more like glided. One was the beautiful swan-like Emmaline Northwood and the other was Tatum Donnelly, a petite strawberry blonde with a sweet, heart shaped face and kind hazel eyes. Patrick moved toward Tatum as if he was magnetically pulled, his eyes turning dreamy while she returned a warm smile.
At least my humiliation was momentarily stalled. Only momentarily.
Paisley flicked her hostile gaze back to me, her lips curling in a sneer. “You may have money, but you don’t belong here.” She pointedly poked me in the shoulder. “And I’m going to make sure you remember that Rubiks Moon-Gem.”
My throat felt tight and eyes hot on the verge of tears. I stepped around Paisley, her hateful gaze boring into my skull along with everyone else’s. I hurried out the doors and they closed with a thud of finality, leaving me alone in the cold hallway to illustrate what an outsider I really was.
Chapter 3
I sat in an ancient part of the building—possibly the basement—on cold stone steps in a deserted, barely lit corridor. The distant sound of dripping water echoed hollowly and cool air forced its way through the cracks. Long shadows stretched down the hall, darkening as the autumn night continued. A spider threaded an intricate web at the bottom of the steps.
I wrapped my arms around my torso and leaned my head against the chilly wall. The tears I’d fought all day finally got their way, leaving wet trails down my cheeks.
Why did my parents make me do this? They had to know I wouldn’t fit in. Hell, I barely fit in at my old school, but at least I had a few friends. And I had my room, my pool, my beach, my sunshine, and my privacy.
Highland was the exact opposite of home. Most of the teachers were cold and the students were cruel. I used to enjoy being alone, but here it was more loneliness than anything. Even after one day I felt it swirling around me, pushing an ache into my chest.
My sniffle echoed through the hollow stairway, reminding me just how alone I was—in a dim, creepy crook of the school where shadows edged closer. My flesh prickled and I suddenly recalled the nightmare I had a week ago. I hadn’t thought about it since then, but this eerie atmosphere brought it rolling back. The fog, bloody knife, claws, and hot breath on my neck…
Eyes were on me now, watching from the darkness. I stopped breathing and reluctantly craned my neck behind me… and screamed.
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” A tall girl scooted around the rest of the wall. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I pressed my hand against my chest and sucked in a lungful of cold air.
“I heard someone and thought you might be hurt.” She ran a hand through her short choppy hair, mixing brilliant scarlet highlights with shiny black strands. “People fall down this staircase a lot.”
I raised a questioning brow.
“It’s dark and there’s a crack on the stair.” She pointed a long finger with chipped purple nail polish toward the top of the landing.
“I’m fine,” I mumbled, embarrassed a stranger found me crying.
The girl smiled warmly and glided down until she settled next to me. “You must be Rubi. I’m Madison.”
I eyed her suspiciously, surveying her kind dark eyes, elfin features, and olive complexion. Her Mary Janes were scuffed and uniform loose instead of clingy like all the rich girls’—even mine.
“I don’t hang with those people,” she said as if reading my mind, her nose wrinkling in dislike. “I’m a scholarship kid, meaning I’m smarter than all those socialites since I had to use my brain instead of mommy and daddy’s wallet to get into Highland.”
I unsuccessfully suppressed a grimace since I was actually rich.
“Oh,” she laughed, her voice echoing off the walls. “I know you’re not here on a scholarship, but I’d hardly count you in with Aspen and the rest of that crowd.”
“That obvious?” I lived with them yet I was pointedly different.
Her mouth twisted in a wry smile. “And some of those rich kids are like from another planet—like they’re not even the same species.”
She must be referring to the uber-rich ones that all looked like movie stars. “I’ve noticed.”
“I think they’re in a secret society or something.”
My lips twitched at our mirrored suspicions and I was thankful to meet someone who wasn’t a snob. “I think you’re probably right.”
We both giggled and I felt a warm sensation replacing the cold lonely one that had taken up residence in my chest since this morning. I was about to ask her if we had any classes together when my stomach interrupted, suddenly screaming for food.
Madison lifted a dark brow. “Hungry much?”
A nervous laugh escaped my mouth. “I missed lunch.”
“Lucky for you dinner’s about to start.” She stood, dusting off her skirt. “We can sit together.”
Relief lightened my heart as I stood, never more thankful for company. “Okay.”
“Awesome.” She linked her arm with mine, standing several inches taller than me. “I’ll lead the way.”
The dining hall was far from a normal school cafeteria, appearing more like an extravagant restaurant. Fancy dark paneling coated the walls and the long tables were lustrous mahogany. A giant crystal chandelier dangled from the tray ceiling, dowsing the massive room in a soft glow.
I eyed the gently twinkling pieces as we passed underneath, thinking they were probably Swarovski crystals and worth a fortune. A warm, hardy aroma of beef and rosemary wafted through the air, making my mouth water. The smell of meat cooking to me was like Pavlov’s bell to a dog. My stomach growled in response.
Velvet burgundy curtains draped the floor-to-ceiling windows, fastened back by gold tasseled rope. An enormous marble fireplace sat in the corner, a brilliant fire dancing in its hearth.
Everything was grand and lavish, but a dull edge of creepiness lingered, matching the foreboding castle exterior. The unlit corners of the hall contained impenetrable shadows and the cushioned benches for the tables seemed cold and uninviting. The fire in the corner danced ominously as if someone with precarious motives was controlling it. The view of the courtyard out the windows was menacing, the nigh
t turning those cherub statues evil and that gurgling fountain chilling.
And don’t forget those leering students.
They turned up their noses and snickered as Madison and I ambled toward the food line. Apparently I wasn’t their only form of amusement.
“Nice hair,” a girl called and I wasn’t sure if she was referring to me or Madison until she made a crack about do-it-yourself hair dyes and red chunks being trashy. Madison ignored them.
We passed one long table where ordinary snobby kids and those incredibly gorgeous, super-elite ones were intermixed, passing around an old, leather bound book with ruffling edges. Hungry, excited eyes ate up the content on the pages.
What the hell would they find so interesting in a giant old book?
A familiar voice suddenly grated against my ears and I saw my roommate Aspen laughing at something a very tall and broad shouldered boy with a shock of midnight hair said. My heart did a funny little dance when I realized it was the same guy from my history class who buried his face in his book to staunch his laughter.
I continued walking—until he turned around. Holy filet mignon! Hot didn’t even come close to accurately describing him.
Madison bumped into me, but I was rooted like a tree.
“What gives Rubi?”
“Who. Is. That?”
She followed my line of vision and sighed heavily. “Oh him.”
I nodded. He was unbelievably gorgeous like those secret society students, but a notch above the rest. His sharply etched face was surrounded by a mess of wavy midnight hair that my fingers were dying to delve into. I imagined those strands were softer than the most expensive silk ever made. I wanted to press my face into them, getting lost in their heady darkness. Of course I’d eventually have to come up for air and get hypnotized by the most beautiful pair of pure jade eyes I’d ever seen. Thick, sooty lashes outlined them, fanning around the sea of green I wanted to jump into and never leave.
