Chapter 13 #2
Oliver breaks out into a run for us, Dray’s hand lifts, as if about to throw a pulse of power our way, but it’s Landon who gets to Mildred first, because he was right behind her, an inch from her back, waiting.
She makes it a foot through the air before he tackles her right out of her lunge.
Mildred is barelled right into a wooden pillar, so hard that a crack of bone shudders and there’s a muffled shout before they both hit the floorboards, hard.
I don’t hang around to see what happens next.
The moment their bulking, strong bodies rattle the floorboards beneath my boots, I’m twisting around and running through the doorway.
I chase the false safety of my dorm room up the wooden stairs, down the corridor, and come crashing through the door.
I throw it shut behind me.
The commotion is enough to startle the only witch in the room.
Courtney flinches, throwing a startled look my way. Perched on the foot of her bed, curtains drawn, the highlighter pen stills on the pages of the textbook—and she blinks at me.
Then footsteps come pounding up the hallway.
I whip around, eyes wide.
My boots stumble over the floorboards, backstepping until the back of my knees hit the edge of my mattress, and I’m about to lose my balance when the door swings open.
The flinch that strikes me is enough to drop my ass onto the bed.
But I soften—because it’s Serena and Asta sweeping into the room.
My muscles relax and I sag with a heavy breath.
Serena is alight with barely contained joy.
Asta turns on me as she shoves the door shut behind her, and her face is all sharp angles.
I throw a look down at my snowboots and let my breaths even out.
Serena gushes, all glee and bells, her steps thudding over the rug until she reaches her bed, “I can’t believe you said that! That is without a doubt one of my top three moments at Bluestone. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”
I throw a dull look over my shoulder.
Serena drapes herself over the foot of her mattress.
Her storm eyes shimmer.
Asta sinks into the seat at the vanity and inspects her reflection in the mirror. “I must admit,” she says, brushing a strand of wintry blonde hair behind her ear, “it was a surprise. You and Landon share such loyalty.” She tilts her head, eyes flicking to mine. “Seemingly out of nowhere.”
There’s no answer in me, nothing more than the deflation of the adrenaline that was pumping through my veins and is now fading into post-slopes fatigue.
My shoulders slump before I reach for the zipper of my jacket.
I start to undress from the dampness of the snowsuit, my mind drifting to my beloved scalding baths—and the idea is fast to stamp out with the threat of that beast lurking out there.
“Did you see Mildred’s face?” Serena chimes, on the verge of outright laughter. “I thought her head was going to explode.”
Still, I say nothing as I go through the sluggish motion of changing into flannel pyjamas and bed socks.
Asta watches every movement in the vanity mirror, a cat stalking prey.
“Did you come up with that on the spot?” Serena baits me, rolling onto her front, elbows digging into the mattress, and she settles her chin on her fists. “I’ve wondered the same, that’s why I ask.”
My shrug is silent before I tug my hair out of its straggled braids. Strands come out in sections, in dire need of a wash and comb, but I just re-braid it as I scoot onto my bed.
Serena’s face shutters, the echo of irritation, annoyed that I’m not performing with her in all her fantastical elation.
I throw her another dull look—and with that, I communicate all I need to.
We’re not friends.
We’re not in this together.
Stop pestering me.
Her face firms, so she reads me loud and clear. It’s a look I’ve seen before on her. That old flicker of irritation.
The memory hits me.
On the swinging bench, the grounds of Thornbury Park all around us, and Serena shutting down before she shut me out.
I blink and it’s gone.
She’s smiling again, tenser this time, less sincere, but smiling all the same. “There’s a party on the ice rink,” she says, trying out new bait. “Everyone’s going.”
Asta adds, faint, from the vanity, “Maybe Mildred, too. But you are so brave now, so what does it matter?”
Serena swerves a narrowed glare Asta’s way.
“No.” That’s my response, firm, and it comes with an unkind glance their way.
I don’t offer any further explanation.
Serena’s face darkens into a storm incoming, but Asta’s smile is small—and relieved.
I say nothing else and just flop onto my bed.
I’m not really forgotten, because Serena makes sure to let her annoyance be known, with frequent sharp looks my way and the occasional huff that chimes like silky bells, but neither of them talk to me again as they get dressed and gussied up for the party.
It’s a long affair, two hours of it, and by the time they’re done, the dorm stinks of burnt hair from the straighteners and curlers.
Finally, the door shuts after them, and a silence settles in the dorm like thick dust.
I turn on my side and look at Courtney.
Still cross-legged at the foot of her bed, she goes through the pages of her textbook, highlighting text here and there.
Her mouth moves at tilted angles, chewing the insides of her cheeks, deep in concentration, so deep in it that I wonder if she even realises that Asta and Serena left.
I drag my pillow under my head and watch her for a while. Highlighter streaks mark her spotted jaw, stuck in the grooves of old acne scars.
The grandfather clock chimes softly with the passing of another hour. Dinner time in the mess hall—but the last thing I want to do right now is eat… or leave the safety of the dorm.
I shift closer to the edge of my bed, then loosen a weighted breath. “I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.”
The words settle between us for a moment, then her face furrows.
She turns that furrowed look on me, the words processing in her already overloaded mind. “It’s different now.”
Her hair is loose, limp around her face, like no matter how often she washes it, it never quite releases all the grime absorbed in the strands.
I just look at her—taking her in, from the polyester jumper that’s too frumpy on her narrow figure, the fraying threads, the ink stain on her cuff, to the dark grime under her fingernails and the ugly pink socks that sit unevenly on her feet.
She turns her cheek to me, but her words come in a murmur, “We don’t need to keep pretending.”
“Pretending?” I echo, my brow knitting.
“To be friends.” She turns a plain look on me, no shame on her cheeks, no regret in her eyes. “I could use the spare time on study.”
Oh.
I should feel something. Betrayal, hurt, regret, sorrow—or even anger. But seconds pass, and nothing stirs in me.
I watch her, stroking the highlighter over text, and my mind drifts to the grand parlour, to Dray rising out of his chair, taking those careful steps closer, lifting his hand—to protect his property.
I look at Courtney, and I see a chance.
An opportunity to escape.
It’s messy, it’s crazy, it’s diabolical, and for sure a way to end my own life as I know it.
But it’s a way out.
“Do you still want that interview?” I ask.
The squeak of the highlighter halts.
Courtney is slumped over her books, legs folded in a basket for too long, they should be numb if not sore, but she turns into a statue.
And all I can see is Dray reaching out to stop Grandmother’s cane from striking me.
It’s all getting too real, too serious—too close.
This is the only scheme I’ve thought up.
The only door to an escape I’ve found.
It might not be the best one, but it might just be the only one.
The question is, what am I willing to sacrifice?
Courtney folds the textbook over, then slides out a sheet of paper from under it.
“The tagline,” I start, “can be… Where you see bullies turned friends, I see a cage of witches I can’t escape. I see my future—trapped with my enemies.”
Courtney doesn’t prompt me.
Doesn’t speak a word, probably scared to spook me into silence, into changing my mind.
But I can’t let myself drown in the fear of consequences. I need to spin this interview, this article, into an angle that works for me.
Make Dray look desperate.
Make him look needy for me.
Obsessed.
Pathetic.
The way I made Mildred look in the grand parlour, the way everyone laughed at her because of what I said—that is what I need to do to Dray.
I need to back him into a corner, where his only option is to save face—and walk away from me.
That is my way out.
The key was never to get Father to reject Dray’s offer, it was never for me to pick another suitor.
The key has always been to get Dray to end it.