4. MAKEOVER!!!
MAKEOVER!!!
“OAKLEY RIDDLE, CAN YOU SING?”
The vampire had just crossed the threshold into Embry’s single suite on the fifth floor and was gaping at the massive size—a privilege of head prefect status—when Ames volleyed the question straight at her from her comfy spot on the love seat.
Embry and Ames had worked it out while running laps in Heston’s seventh-period gym class.
Jonesy’s advanced stage performance still had ten spots until the enrollment cap, which meant instead of replacing the football team, all they needed to do was convince seven girls/femme-presenting people to join the class to fill the open roles.
And the brand-new vampire with an unfortunate schedule was an excellent candidate.
Oakley was so startled her answer came out as a question. “Yes?”
Ames grinned and Embry took the baton from her spot curled up on the ottoman opposite the love seat.
If Embry had learned anything from dorm life, it was that the first step in creating community was to make sure everyone had a place to sit.
“Fantastic. We’re going to get you into sixth-period advanced stage performance and out of that monstrous early morning gym class while we’re at it. ”
When Oakley’s lips dropped open but no sound came out, Embry laughed at herself. They’d just plowed over the vampire with the welcome wagon. Such was the pair’s particular single-minded determination when they wanted something.
“We just totally pounced on you, didn’t we?
” She prodded the empty spot next to Ames with a pedicured toe.
“Come, sit, tell us about your first day and then we’ll go down to admin and hit up the registrar after she’s had her four o’clock boba.
It’s imperative that we catch Paloma at her best if we’re going to get that schedule fixed easily. ”
The vampire blinked at Embry as if she’d spoken at the speed of light as she sank into the velour cushions next to Ames. Embry smiled and pinned the girl with her complete attention and prodded, “What did you learn today?”
Oakley fiddled with the buttons on her Raven’s Head vest. “One thing I learned is that I’m not the first vampire to go here. But I’m the first one in a while, it seems.”
Ames grinned. “Hannah Crawford was the last, graduating in 1943. I looked it up.”
A sudden pang of envy stabbed Embry in the heart—she had yet to have the time to research the history of vampires at Raven’s Head or the magical species at large.
She definitely needed to hole up in her home conservatory and learn more about Oakley and her kind.
She’d consistently researched her classmates since freshman year, learning about their magical proclivities, customs, cultural nuances, and needs.
As head prefect, it was important to be knowledgeable about all Raven’s Head students. As a friend? Even more so.
Ames dabbed Oakley on the wrist. “Do you know her? Vampire circles are small, right?”
“No, I don’t know a Hannah Crawford,” Oakley replied immediately before glancing away.
She didn’t answer the second of Ames’s questions.
“But anyway, people are… excited? They keep asking me so many questions, like if I can turn into a bat and stuff, or they want to see my fangs.” Her eyes lifted like the full moon rising.
“You were right—I don’t really fit with all the groups.
The shifter girls were the ones that asked me if I could turn into a bat.
I mean, I can. But it was like a test or something?
This girl Skye asked me like four times. ”
“Skye Wolverton,” Ames growled, rolling her eyes about the senior class president. Fairfax was good friends with her, which did not help Ames’s opinion. “Ugh, that Bitch is so aggressive. I’m surprised she didn’t just bite you, so you’d have to join her pack.”
Embry did agree that Skye, the most popular shifter at Raven’s Head, was intense. That said, it wasn’t as if her personality veered into being an actual bitch. Gently, Embry cuffed her BFF’s upper arm. “Amethyst, you know perfectly well werewolves can’t turn other magical people. Don’t stereotype.”
“How many magical people were bitten before they figured that out?” Ames arched a brow. “Empirically speaking?”
Embry smirked. “Skye’s harmless. What else happened?”
Oakley tried to regain her train of thought. “And then some zombie girl followed me into the bathroom and asked me if I’d been born or made, which was, like really forward.”
Any breathing student or faculty at this school probably had the exact same question in their head, but certain members of the undead seemed to skimp on the social training before shipping their young off to boarding school.
“I was born, and I’m proud of it—it’s very rare, especially these days. But, like, don’t accost me in the toilet about it, you know?”
Yet another thing Embry would need to research—because every subset of magical beings had its own nuances regarding population addition.
Oakley scrunched her nose. “I’d never confront a zombie, demanding they tell me if they’d been bitten or purposefully gone zombie with a dose of black-market brain or whatever. That’s just crass.”
“The Stitches most definitely have their divisions,” Embry replied, rather diplomatically she thought—until she realized exactly how it could be construed in the very moment Ames snorted so loud Oakley flinched.
“Was that joke at the expense of our local population of Frankenstein’s monsters, Em?”
“A Freudian slip at best. It’s been a long day.” She waved a dismissive hand at herself and returned her attention to Oakley. “What else happened?”
“Well, I met my roommate, and, um, she is weirdly nice for a revenant? Which freaked me out so much I just waved and then ran until I hit the fifth-floor landing.” Something dawned in her eyes. “Wait—do you think she followed me?”
Embry shrugged, wiggled her fingers, and the door to her room closed with a delicate click. She typically liked to leave it open, because again, she was all about community and approachability, but Embry also didn’t want Oakley to feel uncomfortable.
“Thanks. Magda’s just being nice—they all are, even the bathroom stalker. It’s just a lot.”
They both nodded sagely. Embry placed her hand atop Oakley’s. Her skin was strikingly cool. “Right now, you are the most interesting person in this school.”
“Maybe,” Oakley conceded, mouth scrunched to one side. “But not for long—I’m not the only new senior. The headmaster told me there’s a transfer kid who got delayed coming back from a family trip in Romania and missed orientation, too.”
Yet again, Embry felt irritated that she hadn’t known this fact.
Just as she hadn’t known about Oakley or the powder-puff class or even Rye’s role as assistant director.
Usually, she knew everything at Raven’s Head before anyone else.
Another benefit of being a Woodcross—or so she’d thought.
Shoving that annoyance aside, Embry focused on the one thing she could control.
“Forget about that—you are the current talk of Raven’s Head.
” Embry brushed the girl’s parched hair back behind her ears and tipped her chin up, inspecting her admittedly excellent bone structure.
The rumors were that vampires were naturally beautiful, but Embry had always assumed that to be the work of Hollywood, not genetic makeup.
In Oakley’s case, however, it was true. “We should make the best of it.”
Oakley’s delicate brow furrowed again. “What do you mean?”
Embry’s eyes flew to Ames’s knowing expression, and with matching grins they both squealed, “MAKEOVER!”