Mud (Chromatic Mages #1)

Chapter 8

Rosabel La Rouge

2 years ago

The Iridian School of Chromatic Magics was in front of me, the building twice as big as the private offices I was used to studying in with our private tutors. This was an actual school with over six hundred Iridians in attendance every year. A school of magic, not a class of eleven stinking rich, privileged children of the city’s wealthiest families.

An actual school swarming with teenagers of all colors, and I was to go in there, and I was to be a part of it starting today. For the next six months.

Six months of freedom from Baltimore. Madeline. Poppy. Everyone.

Most importantly, six months of freedom from Rosabel La Rouge.

For a moment there as I stood at the bottom of the long stairway that led to the school, I allowed myself to smile. And maybe I wanted to allow myself to smile more often while I was here, too. And maybe I wanted to allow myself to talk to people and make friends and give some color to my life— while I did what the IDD wanted me to do. What David Hill had brought me here to do, despite Madeline’s objections.

I looked at the papers in my hands that I’d been given by the driver, who dropped me and my suitcases off right by the sidewalk at my request. From this moment on and for the next six months, I would be Rosabel Miller, a Redfire from a small town on the other side of the country, come to finish her studies in school for the last semester before she went back home again.

That’s how I took those stairs, dragging my suitcases behind—as Rosabel Miller.

And I’d never felt more like me since the day my parents died.

Students everywhere. Teenagers of all ages, big groups of them hanging together, their uniforms simple—white shirts, charcoal black pants for boys, and skirts for girls—and the details, like the threads and the pins and the color of their shoelaces told you exactly which coven each one of them belonged to. The corridors were wide, the ceilings tall, the entire building made out of yellowish white stone. The tapestries and the lamps on the walls, even the benches on the sides of the hallways were in the colors of the covens as if to show that they all owned this building. It belonged to all schools of magic equally, and I loved them more than I thought I would.

Everybody was an equal here, by the looks of it. For the first time in my life, I felt like I might actually fit in—only because nobody knew, and nobody could know who my family was. Who my grandmother was .

So liberating I couldn’t stop smiling even while carrying my heavy suitcases all the way to the administration office.

It took them two hours to find my name, give me a list of books I needed, a list of classes to register for, then to process my application for said classes. Then they had to find my room in the dorms and an available scout to show me there, as well as to tell me about the main parts of the building made of four—what they called— towers.

All the while, I wasn’t treated any differently than the other seventeen students who were transferring to this school this semester, just like me, probably for different reasons. They didn’t look like spies to me, but then again, neither did I. That’s what Hill loved about me—I looked so perfectly innocent , he said.

The memory of our conversations made me uneasy, so right now I didn’t think about it at all. I just went along happily, didn’t think about who I needed to find or what I needed to do while I was here. All in due time.

The dormitories for the girls in senior year were located in twenty different chambers, the boy who took me there said. Each chamber had fifteen rooms, complete with a bathroom, a kitchen, and a common studying area. Who slept where was decided randomly, not by coven, which was another thing I found amazing. Back home in our private tutoring, we were all divided, each coven on their own side, on their own set of tables in the huge classroom. Our uniforms had been different, too—fancy and with a hundred layers—but that already seemed like a lifetime away now.

I was here. I was in an actual school, and I was going to enjoy it no matter what.

They put me in the third chamber with fourteen other girls, most of whom weren’t there right now, but about seven sat in the loungers and recliners in the main studying area. They introduced themselves, showed me to the free room—up the stairs and to the end of the corridor on the right.

It was a small room, smaller than my bathroom back home, but it was mine. The bed looked old, the wardrobe not even nearly big enough to fit all my clothes, the desk cracked and engraved with names of students who’d lived here before me, stained with ink everywhere—and I absolutely adored it. Every little detail, every crack and every surface—I adored all of it.

That was my first day in the Iridian School of Chromatic Magics.

On the second, I met him.

I was starting to get a little bit frustrated waiting there at the corner of the courtyard, which was basically a large field full of grass and trees and benches for the students to relax, study, or just hang out with each other. The cafeteria was at the other end of the building, and there were plenty who chose to eat on the grass, too.

One of the professors was supposed to meet me here on the morning of my second day to deliver all the information I needed about the guy I was supposed to spy on. Right now, all I had was a name. Once I had his file, I’d know who he was, what he was after, and what to look for while I basically followed him around to map out a schedule for Hill. I was to report directly to him about it, too. I had a special phone that I was always to keep fully charged and never use for anything else.

But it had been almost an hour of me waiting here alone. I was hungry, and I wanted to go join the girls of my dorm who’d told me to catch up with them later.

Actual girls my age who didn’t hate me on sight and who didn’t contemplate how they could benefit from me the second we met. Again, it was because they didn’t know who I was, but I took it. Undercover was the name for this. And I’d stay under this cover for years if they let me.

An hour and a half.

No professor in sight, and classes started in forty minutes. Today we would only be introduced to the general program for this semester. The actual classes began after the weekend. Iridian schools had different programs than human ones, but introduction was important. I wasn’t going to miss it for the world, and I was most definitely not starting the day with a growling stomach.

The mysterious professor could find me later when he was free. I’d waited long enough.

So, I made my way to the cafeteria to get myself a nice breakfast.

It wasn’t nice by any means, but it was eggs and sausage and bread and milk, which didn’t exactly look fresh. But still, it could have been worse—that’s what I told myself.

Then he came.

They had plates and napkin-wrapped silverware, plastic trays that didn’t look all that clean, but the plates were white and shiny, at least. I was in the process of debating which of the sunny-side up eggs I wanted to pick, when someone spoke from right next to me.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

My neck snapped to the side so fast it was a miracle my bones didn’t break. My heart was already galloping in my chest, but when I saw his face, everything came to a halt—even the loud sound of chatter in the cafeteria .

He was about six foot three, on the skinny side, though he had plenty of curves on his arms that the cut-off sleeves of his white shirt revealed. His hair was as dark as a starless night, and so were his brows, thick as my pinkies. His eyes were such a deep brown they looked completely black. The gorgeous pink tint to his full lips could make a girl jealous, and his skin looked silky smooth, perfectly shaved.

Not going to lie, I stared. How could I not? Every line on his face was perfect, every strand of hair exactly right. I was tempted to reach out a hand to touch him, just to make sure he was real because no way in hell.

“See, Frankie there cooks the eggs for us,” he continued because he couldn’t tell I’d stopped breathing completely. Of course not—my face remained expressionless. By that point it was pure instinct— feel something, conceal it, continue to act unbothered.

“And Frankie, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, isn’t exactly…clean.” He pointed at the other side of the food stands, at the wide kitchen full of stainless-steel appliances and people dressed in white uniforms. Elves and dwarves, most of them, but some halflings, too. There were twenty-three of them that I could see, and each was working in a certain part of the kitchen, but I found the guy this boy was talking about fairly easily. He was the first in the third row of appliances, and he was cracking eggs open on the four skillets over the fires. He would then throw the shells somewhere under his stovetop, wipe his hands on his white uniform and continue to shake the skillets.

“Stains,” I muttered, surprised to find I had a voice when this boy was so close to me—and he smelled like my next, wildest fantasy, one I would not stop daydreaming about for days to come. Leather and smoke and darkness. He smelled like a night at the beach sitting near a bonfire—at least in my imagination since I’ve never actually seen a bonfire before.

“Wait for iiiit… ” he whispered, sending goose bumps up my arms instantly. My eyes were on Frankie still, but half my attention was on this stranger.

Until Frankie ran his hands over his greying hair that looked a tad bit greasy, if I wasn’t mistaken, then wiped his nose with one hand, and used that same hand to guide the eggs onto a metal tray.

A metal tray identical to the one in front of me on the food stand now.

Bile rose up my throat.

The stranger chuckled—what a sound. Cold and warm at the same time.

“He’s been doing that same thing for the past year and a half since he started working here,” he said, and the more he spoke, the more alluring his voice became—or maybe it was just me.

I looked up at him again —goddess, you’re beautiful —and stepped away from the stand. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Any time,” the boy said, dark eyes on every feature of my face, analyzing me slowly.

Maybe I should have left right away, turned my back to him and disappeared—but how could I when he was leaning against the other stand with his arms crossed in front of him, a sneaky, mischievous smile on his face? He had dimples, too, that added so much to his appeal, and those lips. Wow, his Cupid’s bow was shaped exactly like a heart. Though the sun shone outside the windows, he was somehow standing in the shadows. I was right in front of him, and the sun was on my face, but none of the rays touched him. Like they couldn’t reach him. Like the shades that fell from the window frames and the pillars existed for the sole purpose of protecting him from the light.

“You might want to stay away from the pudding, too. Mrs. Channing is in charge, and she has long black hair that will inevitably wrap around your spoon while you eat, and you’ll only realize it when you touch it with your ton?—”

“ Stop! ” I said, raising my hand at his face.

“But I’m not done yet,” he said, his smile growing and growing, pulling my own out of me. His dimples looked good enough to eat.

“Yes, I realize that, but I’m going to throw up all over you,” I warned him, bringing my hand to my mouth as if to prove to him that I was serious, but in reality, I was only hoping to hide my smile.

“See, I really don’t think I’d mind all that much,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, and there went my attempt at killing that first small smile. This one was too big, too powerful. I didn’t even bother.

He looked at my lips stretching like he’d never seen a more fascinating thing, which then made me blush harder in turn.

“You have freckles,” he said, as if freckles were a rarity he’d never come across before. “And a triangle right there.”

Before I knew it, his hand came up and he had silver rings on all four fingers that looked really good on him. The tip of his index finger lightly touched the beauty mark near the corner of my right eye, and I didn’t move away. I didn’t even blink my eyes as I looked at him, and I thought, I’ve never experienced a moment like this before. A stranger moment. A fuller moment. One so intense that it scared me and made me giddy at the same time.

A moment like those the characters of my books went through all the time .

He put his hand down then, eyes on my lips. “Try the oats with the apricot jam and Greek yogurt. They’re all safe,” he said.

Safe —to eat, he meant. To eat breakfast.

Which was what I was here for.

All of the sudden the noise in the half open cafeteria returned and I realized there were probably more than a hundred people surrounding us right now. Shit. I’d probably stared like an idiot.

I went for a smile, this time deliberately. “Thanks for… the tips.” Stepping back, I held onto the tray tightly. What the hell else was I supposed to say?

Bye? See you around? Catch you later?

It occurred to me that I had no idea how to speak to people who didn’t know who I was, who didn’t try to kiss my ass in hopes to gain something out of a friendship with me. It occurred to me that I was completely, utterly clueless in the how-to-make-friends department.

Fuck, life with Madeline Rogan had screwed me over worse than I’d even realized. Poppy would have nailed this had she been here instead of me. She had no trouble talking to strangers. She’d probably have this guy’s number by the minute’s end—which gave me a strange sense of jealousy.

And before I made an ass of myself by standing there a second longer, I just turned around and walked away without a word, hoping my cheeks didn’t melt off my face.

Stupid, silly Rora, I chided myself in my head. A hot guy smiles at me and I lose all sense and forget how to even talk properly? Get a grip!

Except…

“So, who is he?”

I stopped.

I turned .

The boy had taken a few steps in my direction, one hand in the pocket of his pants, the other playing with what looked like a penny between his fingers. The sun did fall on his head now, and his hair was a deep, rich ashy brown. I wondered if it would feel as silky smooth as it looked if I dared to reach out and touch it.

I wondered what it would be like to touch those dimples, to trace the perfect curves of his lips.

“Who’s who?” I thought to ask because I had no clue what he was talking about.

He grinned like that again, like he knew all the dirty secrets of the world, and it suited him so perfectly.

Then he took two more steps closer to me. “The guy I have to break you up with.”

Yes, my cheeks were most definitely going to melt off my face now.

Do something! I shouted at myself in my head, and holding onto the tray until my fingers turned numb, I pretended I was a book character and said, “Why? Are you planning to ask me out?”

That sounded like something someone cool would say—at least in my head.

Another two steps, and the boy was in front of me again. We were in the middle of the busy cafeteria, people coming and going in all directions, yet to me we could have been the only people there.

“Why? Are you planning to say yes?” he said, and not just my cheeks, but my whole chest melted.

I swallowed hard, loving and hating his undivided attention, both because I wanted it to last forever, and because I needed a break from it so I could think of a reply.

Then I said, “Are you the type of guy who needs to be reassured of an outcome before you take action? Or are you more ballsy than that?”

There I went and blew it up again— ugh. But he was looking at me like that and I was standing on needles, and…it didn’t matter.

I’ll be damned, but it didn’t even matter. He didn’t turn away—he was smiling still. I was smiling, too. And I was willing to bet my right hand that my eyes were sparkling just as much as his.

“I usually just go with my gut feeling,” was what he said.

My voice came out a bit breathless when I said, “Thought so.”

Another half a step toward me, and now I could count each individual lash on his lids if given the chance.

“Go out with me.”

Yes, yes—YES!

I composed myself, however. I was playing a book character here, wasn’t I?

“Silly me, I almost thought that was an order,” I said with a hand to my heart, and the boy laughed. It was short and deep, and it vibrated all the way through my bones.

“Go out with me, please .”

Iris, I’m in love…

Not really, but the way he looked just now, and the way he said that word. Please…

Yum.

I cleared my throat to make sure I sounded as confident as I was pretending to be, and I still barely managed a, “ Nobody .”

“What’s that?” He turned his head as if trying to hear me better and took the opportunity to lean in closer to me at the same time .

“Nobody,” I tried again—and I was still smiling. “You don’t have to break me up with anybody.”

He turned but didn’t move away. Our noses were maybe an inch apart, and every color in his eyes bore into me, seeing right into my soul.

Iris, save me…

“Then I’ll see you at our date.”

His words were a caress to my ears. He moved away, and again, I was glad to have been forced to keep my shit together my whole life because it served me now. It kept me from making a complete fool of myself in front of all these people.

“Where?” I asked as he lazily took a step backward now, hands in his pockets, that smile on his face still.

“You’ll know,” he said with a nod.

“When?”

His smile widened. “You’ll know that, too.”

How? was what I wanted to ask next, but he was moving farther away, and I said, “Wait—what’s your name?!”

“Taland,” he said, and my knees got weak. “Taland Tivoux.”

My heart skipped a long beat.

Taland Tivoux was the name of the boy I was sent here to spy on.

“Don’t tell me yours. I’ll find out myself.” He raised a hand, smiled, waved slowly. “See you soon, sweetness.”

He turned around and walked away, leaving me all alone in the cafeteria with an empty tray in my hands and a million thoughts in my head that refused to settle down for a long time.

I found out the where the very next day.

It was Saturday, and the students were unwinding, resting, preparing for the semester to start properly on Monday. The day before wasn’t half as bad as I thought it might be, and the professors we met during introduction seemed pretty nice, too. This was all very new to me, and I was prepared to be overwhelmed within the first couple of hours, but strangely I wasn’t. Strangely, I was calm. I absorbed everything around me as well as I could, and it wasn’t that difficult to talk to other people, either.

The third day wasn’t even over, and it was painfully obvious how different life had been for me than it had for everyone else. They all came from normal families with average income here. They had all lived their lives free of bodyguards, and I doubted a single person in this building had had to take classes on proper etiquette when in the presence of guests. They hadn’t had maids or butlers or chefs or tailors that tended to their every need. They’d lived normal lives, not as grandchildren of one of the most powerful women in the world.

And I yearned to be them so badly it hurt.

Maybe, if I did this right, and if I was allowed to work when I turned eighteen—maybe I could get away from Madeline for real. At least for a little while. Maybe I could make my own normal life away from her if I tried really hard.

If I succeeded in this… mission .

By the end of the day on Saturday, I already had the file on the boy I’d met last morning—Taland Tivoux. The professor who’d brought it to me taught Familiar Bonding Basics in the Greenfire school freshman year, which meant he wasn’t going to be teaching any of my classes. Redfires didn’t have familiars to bond with. Of all Iridians, only Greenfires could do that.

The file had a picture of the boy, too, but that picture didn’t really do him justice. It must have been taken at the beginning of freshman year because he looked so much younger there. Younger, but his eyes were the same. So full of mischief. Full of secrets—delicious, sinful secrets.

According to the IDD, he was suspected to be part of a very dangerous organization of rebel Iridians, powerful mages who’d managed to escape from the IDD in the past two decades since their existence first became known. They weren’t named, they operated in the dark, and the file was pretty vague about any specifics, but they apparently stole objects, mainly magical artifacts, and that’s how they harvested more and more power for their followers.

At present, nobody knew the number of people who worked with or for them, but Taland Tivoux was the only suspect in this school, though it didn’t say why he was a suspect or who had pointed him out. All the file said was that the IDD believed he was after an artifact—unspecified—that was somewhere in the school building, and they suspected that he would try to steal it before the school year’s end.

They hadn’t sent agents after him because this organization that they hadn’t named was most probably watching, and if they became suspicious that Tivoux’s cover was blown, they’d pull him. The IDD had sent me, an actual student, for two reasons, Hill said: to both make sure that this boy is who we think he is and to make sure we catch him in time and have him reveal who his superiors are, so that we can free our people from their wrongdoings once and for all.

I believed him, of course—why wouldn’t I? And it seemed like an easy enough job .

Especially since I’d already spoken to Taland before I even knew who he was. Especially when I now knew how easy it would be to hang out with him—because that’s what I needed to do.

I’d thought about it long and hard, and that he’d asked me on a date was actually the perfect scenario. That’s how I was going to get close to him, spend time with him, find out if he really was working for some shady nameless organization of rebel Iridians, and figure out what they’d sent him here to steal.

A date was going to get me close to him, so despite my anxiety and fear and embarrassment, I was absolutely going.

Not because I wanted to—Iris forbid, no, that was not it at all. It was not because I thought he might be the most beautiful boy to have ever existed, or that I liked his smile, his laugh, the sound of his voice, and most definitely not because the scent of him made me drool.

No, it was because I was on a mission, and that mission was to get as close to him as possible, and nobody had taught me anything about anything, had they? I’d met with David Hill twice after that meeting at the mansion, and all he’d talked about was how important it was to not get caught. That was all he’d seemed to care about—not how I’d do it, not if I’d manage to actually succeed, but— the number one thing you need to be concerned about is that nobody finds out. Not your friends, not your professors, not anybody you meet in school, and most certainly not your target. He can never know who you are and why you’re there. He can never know what you’re thinking or feeling or planning—never. Do you understand?

Why, yes, I understood. It was very straightforward, and the reason why I thought he’d picked me over Poppy. She hated me for it, had refused to see me, talk to me, even look my way before I left, as if any of this was my fault or my choice. She knew it wasn’t, and I hated that she hated me, but I couldn’t help but be thankful that Hill had chosen me.

Thankful that he had gotten me here, away from Madeline.

Close to the Tivoux boy.

It had only been two days, but I was already breathing more than I had in years, and I wasn’t even doing anything, just sitting in the study area with eleven other girls who slept in the same chamber with me.

They were hilarious, and I was laughing, which was odd as hell, but I also couldn’t get over the fact that they didn’t hate me. None of them had looked at me wrong so far, and this girl Sophia even offered to grab breakfast together tomorrow morning if I wanted.

Hell, yes, I want! was what I’d wanted to say, but instead I'd said, “Sure thing.”

So now I was sitting there and watching these girls just hang out and eat snacks and drink soda and braid each other’s hair and paint each other’s nails—and it was just so normal, I wanted to cry. It was absolutely perfect, a life I had never dared to imagine for myself. It was so easy to get lost in their little movements, their smiles, their laughs, and most definitely their stories.

“…and then he said, you’re making a big deal out of things, she’s just a friend, ” one of the girls was saying—Kayla was her name, and judging by her blue pajamas, I’d say she was a Bluefire.

Some girls laughed, but more than a few gasped. The one in the middle of the biggest couch sat up straighter with a hand to her chest and told her, “Girl, he is way too short for that kind of attitude. Drop his ass. ”

The look on her face was priceless. I laughed so hard I had tears in my eyes, and so did everyone else.

“I’m serious!” the girl—Gina—continued. “I don’t understand guys who are under six feet and try to gaslight you—what has the world come to?!”

“Maybe he just hasn’t grown up all the way yet,” said another girl.

“He’s an eighteen-year-old dude.” Gina waved her off. “He’s not going to get taller, and you will never be able to wear six-inch heels as the goddess intended for you to do, Kayla, baby. You can’t even do four inches! Trust me when I tell you, just drop him.”

Iris, I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time.

“Yeah, yeah, I will. You’re right—I wasn’t blessed with these legs for nothing.” And Kayla raised her legs in the air—tan, smooth skin over toned muscle.

The girls cheered, and somehow, I found myself cheering, too. Such an odd thing to do. So simple, but odd.

And then the conversation continued—mostly about guys. Who was brave enough came forth and told stories about who they’d dated, either back home wherever they came from, or here in school. Most of these girls had attended this school since the beginning; only two had come the second year, and another—Kayla—at the beginning of senior year.

They gossiped about other students, too, both in their year or younger, about who slept with whom and who dumped whom, and I swear I found it all so fascinating it was kind of pathetic. I was so happy, so full of joy to just sit there with them with my arms wrapped around my knees that I could have been a little girl all over again.

“…take my word for it, ladies—guys are way dumber th an we think,” a girl was saying. Whitefire, but I didn’t know her name yet.

“True,” said a Greenfire—Briar with the gorgeous green eyes that looked like they were infused with actual magic. “But the same applies to people in general. I used to give everyone the benefit of the doubt when I was oh-so-young and naive. But if there’s one thing this school has taught me is that people’s stupidity is the only constant in life.”

Girls cheered and laughed and threw snacks at her while they booed her—and then something moved right outside the door.

Everybody’s breath was cut off instantly, and the silence in the room was absolute.

A second later, we heard it again—something sliding against the entrance door to our chambers, on the other side. Something sliding, then slamming onto the wood.

All the girls made for the door together, screaming wait till I catch you, losers!, thinking it was boys come to prank us or something.

Not going to lie, I was as scared as I was excited to follow them to the door to see who it was, and Gina pulled it open with all her strength, ready to scream her guts out, but…

There was nobody there.

“ Oh. ”

The hallway was empty, no boys in sight.

“What do we have here?”

Then everyone leaned down to look at something on the floor right in front of the threshold. I was too curious not to get closer and push the girls to the side until I saw, too.

It was a painting.

“Oh, this is gorgeous, actually,” said Kayla, and she grabbed the canvas without a frame and raised it up for all of us to see better.

The girls ooh-ed and aah- ed in wonder, but I couldn’t breathe well enough to let out any kind of sound. Because the canvas was white and the shapes on it were painted in black. Just black on a white canvas, no other color.

The ink looked like smoke, diffused around the edges. It showed a structure, tall and with a lot of windows, something I didn’t recognize or even tried to because all my attention was on the small letters at the bottom left corner.

“Who’s this from?”

“Such a pretty piece—I didn’t know anybody here could paint like this!”

“Probably a Blackfire—look at this black paint…”

“Maybe it’s a prank?”

“Or maybe they dropped it here by accident?”

They didn’t, they didn’t, they d ? —

“They didn’t,” I finally choked out.

My voice sounded funny to my ears.

All the girls turned to me. My cheeks were already red when I reached out my finger to point at the corner of the canvas, at the two letters written with a black pen— TT.

“That’s…that’s…I know him. It’s for me.”

It was from Taland Tivoux, and I couldn’t tell you how I knew, but I smelled him on that ink, saw him on those lines. It was from him—I was a hundred percent sure of it.

Then the girls began to laugh and pat me on the back and cheer for me.

“Somebody’s cunt-struck, all right!” one of the girls—Beatrix who was a Redfire—said.

“That’s so romantic!” said someone else.

“I’d personally like a bit of blue mixed in, but it doesn’t look so bad… ”

“It’s perfect, actually. Just shadows—and it looks so real!”

“Is anybody going to tell me what cunt-struck means?!”

My cheeks flushed and flushed, and I continued to keep my eyes on the painting, on the ink, on the lines, biting my lip to stop the smile, but it wouldn’t have it. It spread all across my face anyway.

“When the pussy’s so good he turns into fucking Romeo is what cunt-struck is,” said Gina, and I was laughing and dying of embarrassment at the same time.

My goddess, these girls were a world away from anything I knew—and I loved it! They were so… free to say whatever was in their minds.

And for as long as this lasted, I would be free, too.

“Come on, tell us! Who is it?” the girls said, and someone closed the door after making sure nobody was in the hallway, and then they were all around me, looking at me with wide puppy eyes.

“Spill it, new girl—who’s the Romeo?”

“Taland Tivoux,” I said, and I had no idea why I expected them to stop and gasp and freak out or something—how would they know who he was or why I was here? That I was an undercover agent for the IDD—how would they know?!

They didn’t, and nobody gasped, but plenty of girls grinned and wiggled their brows at me and patted my shoulders with twice as much strength.

“ Nice! ”

“Go, new girl!”

“That’s how you do it, baby!”

“He is one yummy-looking guy.”

“And he’s over six feet— hi-five, girl!”

On and on they went .

“So, what is it?” Kayla asked after a moment, looking at the painting in my hands, and we were still standing there in front of the door for some reason. Nobody thought to go back to the couches and sit down.

“Well, duh —it’s the third tower of the school. See that—it has eleven floors. The other three have only seven,” said Briar the Greenfire, pointing her finger at the squares that were supposed to be windows.

“So, he’s inviting you to the third tower?”

“Like, to fuck?”

“Does he live there?”

“I thought the senior boys slept in the second.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s for a date. I think. ” It was the place where he was going to take me for our date.

The girls looked skeptical. “A date?”

“On the school grounds?!”

“ When ?” they asked me, and the best I could do was shrug as I smiled.

I had no idea when I was going to have my first-ever date.

But I found out not twenty-four hours later.