I’ve heard the rumors.
Of course I’ve heard the rumors. At Acadia academy, even the deaf hear the rumors, and there are a lot; most of them true, some of them downright outlandish. But right now, the rumors I’d heard about William Ravenstone begin to suspiciously make sense. Drugs and alcohol weren’t things that harmfully affected teen werewolves, unless one had a genetic disorder, but this fact didn’t make addicts in the community any less marginalized.
I press a palm to my forehead, huffing out a breath and running a shaky hand through my hair. The vodka is really beginning to take over. I glare back at William. There are many things that annoy me in this world, but up there in my top ten are people who can’t own up to their shit. “A few broken bones, so what? I’d heal.” I reply, stumbling and peeping over the edge of the ledge, down to the darkness below.
I shudder to think how things might’ve gone if he hadn’t pulled me back.
I would heal, yes, but it’d be a hell of a painful experience and a small part of me thanked his fast reflexes in silence. I turn around, sniffing and nod to his pills, or more like his pocket. “Is that why you’re up here? To get high in peace?”
William’s expression tightens. For a second he says nothing but simply stares at me with a slightly hurt expression. I can tell that he’s trying to hide it, but I’m good at seeing the slips and cracks in people’s poker faces. “Whatever.” He sighs and shakes his head, then brushes past me, silent anger rolling off him in waves.
“What a grade one asshole.” I mutter, sure that he’s heard me regardless.
Suddenly, from the edge of my vision, I catch a glimpse of a figure coming up the bell tower’s staircase with a flashlight. A student sneaking up here after curfew wouldn’t be stupid enough to use a flashlight, and the out-of-bounds, personnel-only rooftop staircase. It can only be one person; the night patrol guard.
“Pute!”
I look left and right for somewhere to hide. Behind me, William is oblivious to the looming danger, and keeps walking at a lazy pace towards the other end of the rooftop. Thinking fast, I sprint to him, grab his hand, and pull us both into a tiny space between two old industrial air conditioners closely situated together.
“What the—“
I smack a hand over his mouth and press a warning finger to my lips, eyes probably wider than coins. “Watchman...” I mouth.
His gaze narrows, but at this point the flashlight had reached the rooftop and the flood of light was enough to convince him to not do anything stupid. Practically sandwiched together, we shift further towards the wall and both silently pray the watchman doesn’t head in our direction.
I could already imagine the kind of conversation I’d be having with Principal Choi if by some terrible luck we’re caught up here after curfew, together, alone.
The sky above cackles with electricity, and a second later, thunder follows; rolling and crashing. A drop of rain falls on my cheek, and then another and another. In mere seconds, it was pouring and we were both soaked to the bone with rain water.
I blink away the rain collecting on my eyelashes and try to suppress a grin; exhilarated and feeling giddy with the idea of danger fueled by the atmosphere and the moment.
William’s hand grabs my wrist lightly, and a shock of electricity moves through me like a current. I don’t realize that my hand is still clamped over his lips until he lowers it slowly, his gaze moving at the same pace; from my eyes to my lips, and then down to the plunging neckline of my black dress that is now drenched and see-through.
We are pushed up against each other in the tight space so much so that I can feel the ragged intake of his breath where my chest is pressing into him as he gulps before quickly darting his gaze away and blinking a few times.
My lungs begin to constrict.
In my head, the tight space walls me in, moving closer and closer, and I think of a thousand scenarios where I’m crushed to death; a shoe box, a coffin, a wardrobe. I don’t do well in tight spaces and right now, I could feel my claustrophobia kicking in. My breaths turn slightly labored. William’s presence is not helping. I brace my palms on the plastic solidness of the old air conditioner behind me and try to focus on my breathing; on anything but the boy in front of me, the tight space, and the impulsive thoughts in my head.
“Are you-“
“I’m fine.” I grit out forcefully in a whisper, closing my eyes. Only three people in this school are aware of my claustrophobia, and I’m not looking to add another person to that list. I take inventory of my senses to stay present and distract myself from the squeezing space.
It’s taking my all to not stumble out in the open space and into the flood of the watchman’s flashlight. The sound of rain beating down mercilessly on us and the rooftop, the smell of dust being washed away by rain was calming too. The feeling of William’s warm, solid chest braced against me; I open my eyes and find his dilated, heavy gaze settled on my face. He moves a strand of wet hair behind my ear and trails a finger down from my cheek to the base of my throat with a feathery touch.
I felt feverish; a shudder moving down my spine.
I couldn’t think straight, and honestly, I didn’t want to. Not in this moment. I lean closer to him, wanting to taste the rain on his lips and feel electrified by his touch again.
He takes a sideways step and disappointment washes over me, embarrassment following it; rising in my throat almost as fast as the panic.
William glances out of our hiding spot. “He’s gone.” He announces, and sure enough, the flood of the watchman’s light has disappeared.
“Why did you...” I trail off, my eyebrows furrowing at William’s receding figure in the rain as he hurries off towards the window that’ll get him to the stairs and off the rooftop. Almost dumbfounded, I huff out a breath and run a palm down my face, wiping rainwater. What had I been thinking? Well, it doesn’t matter now. Embarrassment and annoyance burns my cheeks.
“Just fucking perfect...” I mumble as I begin my own walk towards the window at a much slower pace, hoping to not bump into him on the way down, and convincing myself that William Ravenstone is a piece of shit.
Mrs. Matilda; the dorm supervisor of House Hera or as we call her; the watchdog, doesn’t ask me a single question as I enter the halls of House Hera; soaked and shivering from walking the short distance from the main grounds to the dorms. One look at my face, and she could tell that I’m in a sour mood, and although she’s supposed to have the authority, Mrs. Matilda already knew how the routine was with me. It starts with a question and ends with me blackmailing her into letting me off the hook.I trudge up the silent stairs to the second floor and curse all curse-able things as I keep failing at sticking my key into the keyhole before I finally get the damn thing in and swing the door open.“You heard me struggle and you didn’t open it?” I shoot at Evin Vandran, my roommate.She is sitting in a binder and yellow boxers, holding a paintbrush, layering cyan paint on the blue tumultuous sea roaring to life on her canvas. “Hello to you too.” She answers, swiveling in her small chair to fa
I’m standing in the woods, in front of William Ravenstone.The trees around us loom in like lingering shadows of the dead, but my focus is not on them. It’s a full moon; the sky clear and starless. Chilly wind whips through my hair, tugs at my shirt –the same one I’d gone to sleep in.Something has made William angry. He is breathing heavily, fists clenched tightly, shirtless and shaking.“Isabella?” He says through panted breaths.Despite that wild stare and the way his body throbs with aggression, when he speaks, none of it comes through. His cheeks are dark from exertion; mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumps from his lungs, struggling to maintain control. “You shouldn’t be here.”I manage to unglue my feet and start toward him. He seems to brace himself as I move closer, hands on hips, back and shoulder stiff. When I stop in front of him, he directs his eyes at the ground. “William?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Reaching out, I touch his arm. “Liam?”He jolts, muscle
“Textbooks out, page two hundred and thirteen; Werewolf and human diseases. Last class we learned how certain diseases, disorders or infections that are usually human-coded can affect werewolves despite the supernatural healing ability of the latter.” Mr. Ortega briefs, his cold gaze sweeping over the class. “Rogers, discard that gum.” Andy Rogers mumbles something under his breath but takes out the gum frowning, before sticking it under his table with zero shame or a sense of hygiene. Next to me, Bibah continues to chew her gum silently. “Today, we are going to delve deeper into the Wolverine anti-gene.” Mr. Ortega continues, setting up his sleek black computer and connecting it to the class projector. “The Wolverine anti-gene makes up seventy eight point three percent of our body’s defense mechanisms and —“ The door creeks open, cutting him off and for a moment my heart skips a beat, thinking its William, but then Ben walks into the class and guilt follows
There’s only a two year difference between my sister Wilhelmina and I, but we look nothing alike. She is a complete replica of mom, and I am almost a complete replica of dad. The only physical feature we share is our foxy hazel eyes. It stops there.Wilma has bone straight, waist length chocolate brown hair that reaches midway down her back like a glossy waterfall. Although I had a few considerable inches over her, the height difference isn’t that apparent and she’s curvier with –as she puts it; heavier bones.She sits in the waiting room of the principal’s office, wearing my stolen white beret, like how a part-time model might sit at a coffee shop, relaxing. The only thing out of place in her uniform is the blood-speckled blouse and the bloody handkerchief in her hands she’d used to clean what I hope, despite knowing for a fact, is not her blood. Just to make sure, I move to her, nodding at the handkerchief.She shakes her he
Miss Irene gives Wilma and I a scathing look that silently says ‘get out of this administrative block.’ I grab my leather jacket and shrug it on, noticing that the injured boy —Wilma’s “victim” is nowhere in sight. Nurse’s office or on his way to change schools? I hope it’s the latter. Coldly, I brush off William’s presence, putting him in the same category as the other boys although my skin feels hot and prickly from the mere recollection of the dream and his gaze on me.“Come on.” I beckon Wilma with me.She gets to her feet obediently, grabbing her headphones and rose-patterned school backpack. She offers Miss Irene a polite smile and an equally polite goodbye.I don’t.The second we’re out of earshot and in the hallway, I swivel to face my sister. “Did he deserve it?” I demand, folding my arms and staring her down.“Yes.” She replies immediatel
Acadia Academy’s cafeteria is about the size of a football field. It had been built large enough to contain all the students from year one to year three back when the rules were more rigid and students were strictly required to eat at the exact time food was served. Now, barely anyone eats in the cafeteria. Half the crowd that filled the rectangular mahogany tables are there for the passing of daily gossip or to catch up with the friends they didn’t have classes with.The food isn’t exactly horrible, but after about three years of eating at the same place, and rotating the same twenty or so meals, you get tired and sick of it all –even if they are five stars restaurant worthy dishes. I’m a terrible cook, and the student kitchens are literally another circle of hell. Of course we could order food, but that took forever to get here since Acadia Academy is so detached from civilization. On my best days, I join Bibah in the kitchens and help keep her company as she does all the work. On m
Akio’s expression turns smug and he circles the cake under my nose enticingly. I try to make a grab for it but his reflexes are faster than the speed of light. With a self-satisfied smirk, he takes a ginormous bite, smoothing the sparse cluster of hairs on his upper lip that he likes to call a mustache.I imitate the sound of a clipper and mimic shaving his mustache. He shifts back; putting a seat between us and truly looking horrified.Bibah simply shakes her head at our childish shenanigans and takes a sip of her iced latte, metal straw clinking in the Hydro Flask. “The Awoo Book Club’s pick for this week is H.P Lovecraft.” She pats the voluminous book atop the pile and I notice it’s the library copy of H.P Lovecraft’s Omnibus 3. “I’m so excited to roast his ass.”“You’re excited to roast a dead man’s ass.” Akio laughs, swinging his long legs on the seat he’d vacated seconds ag
One of the many things Acadia Academy prides itself on is the magnificence and efficiency of its main library. Like the rest of the gothic structure, it’s lavish and extravagant in its architecture. Stained glass windows floor to ceiling that let in a stream of dimmed natural light. Bookshelves three storey high with a spiraling wooden staircase and railings of carved bronze. The pillars are made of ivory, the ceiling vaulted, the floor made of reflective brown tiles shiny enough to be a light source of its own. The whole library is massive, whimsical and enchanting; something straight out of a fairytale. The smell of old and new books alike mix with the smell of polish, leather, and varnish. It’s cold, so I pull my leather jacket tighter around me.And the silence is so empty it echoes through your consciousness; mind-numbing. Even the humming of the air conditioners seems to fade and hush into an ambiance that’s maddening.I don’t mind silence