Tricky Girls (Girls of Hazelhurst #1)

1. CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Tilda

Monsters swarm. The air is foggy. People are screaming.

And I’m still here freezing my tits off alone.

White vapour wisps from my mouth as I sigh for the billionth time, pluming towards the full moon hanging in the sky. Fitting for Halloween night. Fitting for any night here. Even during the day it stands sentinel above the castle, pierced by its spires like an animal on a spit.

It had followed me in the city too, a friend at first, something to pray to and dance to and dedicate our childish potions of mud water and berries.

It had also been there the night everything fell apart, and I’ve hated that stupid lump of rock since.

Air reeking of gunpowder, donuts and spilled booze, I stamp my boots in the dirt, arms tight around my skeleton bodysuit. Might as well have not worn tights for all the protection against the cold they’re giving. At least the bodysuit has long sleeves. Be even better if someone was here admiring it.

When I told my useless prick of a boyfriend I wanted to fuck in the hedge maze, I at least expected him to turn up.

I check my phone again but it’s still only showing one bar. This bloody island. At sea level the signal’s shite but take a hike to the clifftops, surrounded by nothing but the wind and the sea, and it’s full bars all round.

Still, one bar should be enough for a text to go through, so where the hell is he?

Body stiffening up, I drop onto a hay bale at the entrance to the maze, toeing my boot into the strewn straw. Students shriek behind me. From the mouth of the maze, dry ice fogs, blinking with colour from the strobes they’ve hooked up.

Jiggling my phone in my lap, I scan my eyes over this year’s Fright Night. Halloween was mint last year but this time Hazelhurst’s really gone all out. The clearing, surrounded by the towering evergreens the island’s so known for, is lit only by the globe above and sporadically placed lighting in orange, green and purple. Stalls run haphazardly up and down, hundreds of students thronging through with plastic cups filled to the brim with triple vodkas and whatever mouth staining mixer. I don’t recognise anyone, each face decked in some ghoulish mask or makeup. At least I’m not the only silly girl turning numb from cold.

Screeching sounds from my left. I crane my neck to watch a mime skid to a halt before a gaggle of girls. Tonguing the straw of my drink into my mouth, I take a sip of my vodka cherryade. Fit. The mime’s tall, sinewy, and he knows exactly what he’s doing when he stands back up, one arm boxing a girl in against a wall of hay, his painted face pressed closed to hers.

In the light of day, he’s probably any old geek but anonymous behind his costume and the heady atmosphere of a full moon Halloween night, he’s a cocksure fiend. He wanders off to find another victim and I follow him with my eyes, half hoping he’ll turn back and fall down at my feet too.

I look at the moon again, its yellowy light limning the spired towers of Hazelhurst Castle. It’s always Halloween here, the stone walls thick and impenetrable and undoubtedly full of secrets. Being here on a scholarship, I doubt there’s many I’ll be privy to. They give us a wide berth, the rest of them, lest they infect themselves with our impoverish cooties.

Can’t say I mind too much, it’s just cool to be here. Gutted it’s hump year already. I know nothing in the real world will come close to the magic of this place.

On the cusp of saying eff it and attempting the maze on my own, a roar of dry ice shoots from one of the machines, making more than one person in the vicinity flinch. We’re all watching when two masked figures, LED Purge style, emerge from the fog, hooded cloaks billowing, unsnapped glow sticks held aloft like wands.

My lips curl into a smile around my straw. The mime was hot but these two… I peer closer, making sure they are actually male. It’s hard to tell in the gender ambiguous costumes, the lit masks sporting grinning expressions. They’re large anyway, taller than me, and seem buff beneath all the black.

They’re making a good show of it, whoever they are, strutting through the crowd with all the confidence of lawless revelry. I notice plenty of other girls watching and huff to myself. God, how fucked are we all? Those masks aren’t even hot, not really.

I watch openly as they approach, swaggering along to Sleep Token. So apt. One inclines their head and I sit there pleased at having been noticed. Raising their glow stick, they use it to tuck a strand of dark hair behind my ear, leaving me all but swooning on the bench.

It’s possible I know them but as they melt into the crowd, I can’t think who they might be.

A violent shudder racks me, making all my hairs stand on end. Even my lips are numb with cold at this point. Getting up resolutely, I walk into the maze, engulfed immediately by thick dry ice.

I walk on slowly until it clears and I can see again. It’s darker in here, way, way darker, some tunnels not lit up at all. Those are the ones I go down, away from everyone else. I thumb my phone and find a quiet corner.

Swiping off my messages from Ryan, I bring up Natasha’s instead. We were supposed to walk here together, all hailing from the same trampy halls, our rooms one after another. I can forgive Ryan, he’s a guy and useless at the best of times, but Natasha’s my girl and pregaming wasn’t the same without her.

Wouldn’t even tell me why, which means she’s off with a guy, one she shouldn’t be—either that scrawny fresher from the year below or her on-again-off-again asshole with the annoyingly beautiful face.

I almost drop my drink at the feel of hands pawing my waist. Whirling round, I release a laugh at the plastic skeleton hands pushing through the hedge. I can’t see who’s on the other side but I give one arm a tug, smiling at the resulting muffled protest. I throw it over the hedge, hoping it hits whoever’s there.

I knew there’d be spooks in here, but I expected better than that. I round the corner, hoping to come face to face with a chainsaw-wielding loon. Or just Ryan, I suppose. There’re so many dark corners he could be pushing me into right now.

Instead there’s just more endless tunnels to wend down, losing myself deeper and deeper in the maze. Made from evergreen hedges, it’s a permanent feature all year, the vast expanse of which I’ve seen from the air during a helicopter ride around the island. It’s huge, fashioned into a map of the labyrinth supposedly lying beneath Hazelhurst, but I’m too drunk to care about getting lost. I’m sure some friendly clown or zombie will see me out if I do.

I run out of drink at some point and with my fingers too cold to keep them wrapped around the cup, I bend precariously to place it down, stomping on it out of habit. I don’t envy who has to clear all this up on Monday.

Multiple pairs of shoes are visible through the bottom of the hedge, and I hear a boy laugh, the lilt suspiciously familiar.

‘Ryan?’

I wait a beat, huffing at the lack of response.

The boy’s always been a bit deaf. We’re under orders to evacuate halls if the fire alarm goes off and I’ve had to drag him from his slumber more than once.

The first time I told him I loved him, I whispered it under my breath figuring he wouldn’t hear. It was only later the fucker told me he did, just hadn’t felt ready to say it back. A year later and I’m still waiting.

I hasten to the end of the tunnel but there’s no left turn. Turning right will only take me further away from whoever’s on the other side. With only a brief thought to my tights, I push my way through the bottom of the hedge, grunting when the branches pull me back like hands.

I should have been thankful to them, the spook on this side way worse than any chainsaw-wielding crazy.

It’s Ryan alright, and Natasha, and they’re kissing.

‘Of fucking course,’ I laugh out before really making sense of what I’m seeing.

They turn to me, eyes bleary and unfocussed, twin smiles frozen on their faces.

‘Tilda, fuck,’ Ryan breathes.

The bastard’s hands are still on Natasha who’s finally lost her smile. She tips her head back and sighs into the air, as if me interrupting is far more vexing for her than me. ‘Tilda…’

I hold up a hand as I take a step away. I’m probably drunker than I should be, my mind a little slower to react, but I know it should be fury I feel right now. And sad, I suppose, but that can come later.

‘Are you for fucking real?’ I look between the two of them. They appear kind of hazy, far away—my mind doing that coming away from itself thing. ‘So this is why you were both busy earlier?’

Natasha steps out of the circle of Ryan’s arms, brushing straightened hair behind an ear. ‘We were actually going to tell you—’

She shuts up when I fall back to the ground, groping for my discarded cup. It might be empty but the plastic’s cracked and sharp enough to draw blood when I raise it to her face.

Her lack of reaction shows just how drunk she is. That and the fact she was just snogging my boyfriend. She catches blood on her fingers, staring at it dumbly.

‘Tilda!’ Ryan hisses, caught between dealing with me and all the red gushing from Natasha’s cheek.

Fuck, she’s actually bleeding, like a lot. I’ve never hurt someone who isn’t myself before.

‘I feel weird,’ I chuckle, taking another step away from them.

‘You’re a fucking psycho,’ Ryan shoots back.

Ah, and here comes the anger, that scary rage that’s been descending over him more and more lately—something I was planning on breaking up with him over, but the bastard doesn’t need to know that.

‘And you’re a cheating rat.’

I turn away from them both, hastening my steps when Ryan calls out my name. As I turn a corner, I spot a couple of girls leading Natasha away, cooing over the blood that’s kind of everywhere now.

Shit.

‘Tilda!’

‘Touch me and I’ll wreck your face too.’

‘Oh, come on.’ Ryan sighs in frustration, his steps halting for the moment before speeding back up. ‘We’ve been bad lately, you know that.’

‘And you thought making out with my best friend would solve that, did you? Shit, Ryan. I’m fucked up right now but this is going to be messy.’ I feel something wet on my face and wipe away a tear, looking at it on my fingers the same way Natasha had. ‘We all live together.’

‘I think we’re all fucked.’ He makes a grab for my arm. ‘Would you stop walking!’

He pulls me around, hard enough for something to pop. I cradle my arm, peering up into his dark, angry eyes. Angry at me? He has no right, but it’s just like him to deflect his mistakes onto me. He’ll be spewing some shit soon, spinning all this so it’s my fault.

‘Touch me again and I’ll kill you.’

He scoffs at that, a slimy smile on his face. ‘Fuck off, Tilda. Jesus, you can be a bitch.’ He throws up his arms. ‘You don’t even like me!’

Well, he has a point but… ‘If you don’t get away from me, Ryan, I am going to fucking scream.’

‘Go ahead.’ He folds his arms, eyes goading. ‘We’re in a haunted maze. Everyone’s fucking screaming.’

As if on command, a group of students shriek in the next tunnel, one of them shouting about The Purge.

Those LED mask wielders, probably.

Wish they’d come round here, so I could take their glow sticks and shove them up Ryan’s—

‘Let’s get out so we can talk. And we should probably find Tash and make sure…’

He looks over his shoulder to where Natasha had left, her name on his lips spurring me on to keep walking. I turn one corner and then another. This fucking maze. Where the hell’s the exit?

Ryan growls behind me, once again grabbing my arm. It’s throbbing from his earlier yank and the pain angers me even more than their kiss.

‘Get off! Stop’—I push at his chest—‘fucking’—and again—‘touching me!’

He’s too strong to be moved though, even with my teeth gritted and giving it my all. The momentum bounces me backwards, right into another immovable body. I look up into a lit, grinning face, black gloved hands steadying me at my waist.

I step away. For a moment there’s nothing but silence. Then Ryan tosses up his arms. ‘Do you fucking mind?’

‘Nope,’ one of the purgers says easily, voice muffled behind their mask. ‘But she clearly does.’

‘That’s my girlfriend.’

When I scoff, the purger looks at me. ‘That true?’

‘Dunno.’ I glare at Ryan. ‘Would he still be your boyfriend if you caught him kissing your best friend?’

The purger chuckles. ‘Oh, mate.’ They poke me in the side with their glow stick. ‘Want him gone?’

‘Yeah.’ I fold my arms decisively. ‘I do.’

It’s an odd moment, the four of us standing around like this. Ryan shakes his head, face screwed up at the incredulity.

When he makes no move to leave, the other purger steps forward. ‘Want me to punch him in the face?’

‘What—?’

There’s no time to answer before they’re flying their gloved fist into his face. He keels over, moaning. It was a good shot, the crunch of it still ringing in the air.

The purger pushes me down the tunnel. ‘Time to bounce, baby.’

I look back to Ryan once but it’s dizzying craning my head whilst running at full pelt with two purgers by my side. I blow out a laugh, the wind drying the tears on my cheeks. What’s even happening right now?

Purger One, the one who punched Ryan, lets out a whoop, leaping up into the air as it becomes opaque with dry ice. We exit the maze easily and I hope to God Ryan is still lost in there somewhere, preferably with his eyes blackening from a broken nose.

I can’t see Natasha anywhere. I wonder if she’s gone back to the dorm, or maybe to the nurse. Either way I can’t bear the thought of going back home. Ignoring the two purgers still plastered to my side, garnering thirsty looks, I make for a stall and order another triple vodka.

A gloved hand slams onto the bar when I take out my card, Purger Two pushing into me from behind. ‘I’ll get this, babe. You look like you’ve had a rough night.’

I let them go ahead, dwelling on their voice. Not only is it not male, it’s also somewhat familiar.

‘Here you go.’

I take the cup, sipping up the overspill. Even through the mask, I sense her staring at me. ‘What?’

She folds her arms. ‘Don’t know who we are, do you?’

‘Should I?’

‘Ouch.’ She puts a hand to her chest. ‘You’ve only spent about a billion hours in our company.’

I tilt my head as I examine them, for the moment choosing to forget about Ryan and Natasha and this whole fucking night. ‘Are you on my course?’

‘Bingo.’

Purger One leans forward. She has a serpent ring on her middle finger, over her glove. I wince. That must have hurt. ‘The fittest in the class,’ she says.

‘Take your masks off and I’ll be the judge of that.’

It’s dawned on me who they are by now, but it’s fun to play along.

Purger One says to their friend, ‘We done with wetting knickers?’

Purger Two snorts. ‘Be a different story if they knew we had tits. But yeah, this mask is like wearing fucking ice.’

‘Care to accompany two purgers through the forest?’ Purger One asks, turning back to me.

‘Dunno, planning on killing me?’

‘Wouldn’t that be a waste of a pretty face.'

I chuckle, already turning away. I’m paranoid about seeing Ryan and so cold that being out isn’t fun anymore.

‘If you can take me somewhere warm, I’m all yours.’

She slings an arm around my shoulders, spilling cherryade over my fingers. ‘Right choice.’

One perk to living in halls is how close they are to the castle. There’s none of this—trampling over loamy pine needles, eyes to the ground dodging roots and half-buried rocks, the ‘paths’ lit only by sporadic lamps that have a fifty percent chance of coming on at all once the sun goes down.

That hadn’t been a deciding factor when Ryan, Natasha and I decided to stay on at Portia House, but it certainly came in handy after a heavy night at Vipers.

We enjoyed living together in the rowdiness of halls, despite being lumped in with a bunch of freshers this year. The more I think on it, though, the more I wonder if Ryan and Natasha had wanted to stay living next door to each other for different reasons. Only single sexes can house together in the off-campus lodges.

Have I just been an unwilling third wheel this whole time?

I toss my head, blinking back tears.

A hand comes down on my shoulder, squeezing hard. ‘They’re not fucking worth it.’

No, I want to cry back to her, it’s me who’s never worth it.

Beyond caring where they’re leading me, I’m only thankful when one of them shrugs off her cloak and wraps it around my shoulders.

I moan, burrowing into the fabric. ‘Don’t care if you have tits, this is warm.’

She chuckles, reaching up for her mask. ‘Believe me, my face is better than my tits.’ They whip it off, baring the smiling, freckly countenance I was expecting. ‘Well, would be if my nose wasn’t snotting everywhere.’

The other lets out a disgusted sound before removing her own mask, shaking thick, shoulder length dark hair from her face. She peers at me through eyes just as dark. ‘Know us yet?’

I hum, sipping more of my drink. ‘Faces ring a bell, but remind me of your names?’ She narrows her eyes until I laugh. ‘Kidding. Harriet, right? And Elly.’

‘Right,’ she says. ‘Haz is better. Also, you’re fucking welcome.’

I’m assuming she’s talking about punching Ryan, but I don’t want to be thinking about him right now.

‘Is there booze wherever you’re taking me?’

Elly tucks me back under her arm. ‘Of course, babe. Our night’s only just begun.’