by Wendi Wilson
The building before me was immense, made of some kind of light-colored stone that seemed to sparkle in the sun. I pressed my forehead against the glass, but we were parked too close. I couldn’t see the top to determine if there were turrets or towers, but it sure looked like a castle from where I sat.
Celeste climbed out, flipping the seat forward and holding out a hand to help me from the car. I took the offer, glad to have something real and warm to hold onto while my reality seemed to spin out of control.
Riding in a car, a giant forest, a castle…
I looked up as soon as I was free of the confines of the vehicle. There were turrets, but there were also huge balconies along the upper floors and what looked like a glass dome over the roof of the main building. It had wings coming off either side, stretching its width to at least a city block. I’d never seen such a place. Its size was only rivaled by its beauty.
The huge front door creaked open and someone stepped through the crack before it swung shut once more. It was a man…a really old man. As he approached us, I took note of the cane he used, his long, white beard, and his hunched shoulders. He moved in close, stopping directly in front of me, his gaze snagging mine.
“December Thorne, I presume?”
His bluish-green eyes sparkled with kindness and humor, putting me immediately at ease. I felt the corner of my mouth tug upward, and I nodded.
“December,” Celeste said. “Meet Rowan Dobbs, one of the teachers here at Oberon Academy.”
I took his hand when he held it toward me, saying, “Dobbs? As in Alvaro Dobbs?”
I swore one of his eyes twitched, but the movement was so minute, I very well could have imagined it.
His smile didn’t falter as he answered, “Yes. Alvaro Dobbs was my great-great-grandfather. Or was it three greats?” He waved a hand in the air. “No matter, dear. Come in, come in. Let’s get you settled.”
I shot a wide-eyed stare at Celeste as he started to lead me toward the door he’d appeared from.
“Rowan has agreed to show you around,” she said, smiling brightly as she followed along behind us.
“Thank you, Mr. Dobbs,” I said, not sure what to think.
“Rowan, please,” he said, patting a wrinkled hand against my shoulder. “Mr. Dobbs was my great-great-great grandfather.” He paused, turning toward me. “Or was it two greats?”
He winked at me and, though I didn’t really get the joke, I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The old man was delightful, and I hadn’t had much delight in my life.
I liked it there already.
Then we stepped inside. There were people everywhere, standing around in groups. Mobbing out of hallways. Laughing, talking, hugging…I even saw girls doing that air-kiss thing to each other’s faces.
And every single one of them was stunning. Every girl, statuesque with glossy hair that seemed to range in shade from white blonde to a medium brown color. Every guy, towering over the girls with the same light hair and sparkling smiles. I felt like I walked into a dream, or maybe one of those old reality television shows I read about where they took the most beautiful people they could find and made them all live together just to see what would happen.
I tensed, feeling overwhelmingly out of place and, like someone hit a switch, the cavernous space fell completely silent. Every head swiveled in my direction. Looks of curiosity quickly turned to disdain as those gorgeous creatures took in my appearance and seemed to find me lacking.
I suddenly didn’t like it there so much. It was just like every other school I’d been to, only these students actually had reason to turn their noses up at me. They were, very obviously, out of my league.
I started to turn, nothing but escape on my mind, when a warm hand on my elbow stopped the motion. I looked up and met the aquamarine gaze of Rowan, who smiled at me with his kind eyes before turning back to the mass of students in the hall.
He nodded, a simple, miniscule gesture and activity recommenced. Kids talking, laughing, walking in different directions. I met no eyes as I scanned the crowd. It was as if I wasn’t there. Invisible. I released a pent-up breath. Invisible, I could handle.
Rowan moved forward, surprisingly spry for an old man with a cane, and I rushed to keep up. A hand touched my back, and I looked to my left where Celeste walked, a supportive smile on her face. I appreciated her kindness and the fact that she was sticking with me for the time being. Oberon Academy was a little overwhelming.
I breathed deep and tried to wrangle in my nerves. At least no one was staring. I still couldn’t figure out how that had happened, all of them stopping and falling silent at once. It was really—
I lost my train of thought as my gaze was snagged by a pair of ice blue eyes, so light they almost looked silver. I wanted to look away, but I couldn’t seem to break eye contact. The boy stood off to the side, alone, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
And he wasn’t smiling.
He wasn’t frowning, either, but his expression told me he’d sized me up and was even less impressed than the rest of the student body. I was still staring as we started to pass by, my eyes traveling over tousled blonde hair, so light it was almost white, brows just a shade darker, a straight, perfect nose, and full lips that were pressed together in a thin line.
He moved, pushing away from the wall and my eyes snapped back to his. I could barely see their icy color because they were narrowed, his blonde eyebrows pulled down low. I turned my head, facing forward once more, careful not to look back.
I felt a little dizzy, like I might pass out from the tension wracking my body.
“December,” Rowan said from the corner of his mouth without turning toward me. “Relax. Everything is going to be fine. Trust me.”
I turned my head toward him, watching his profile as we kept moving down a long hallway. I realized that, somehow, I did trust him. I’d never trusted anyone before, and there I was, putting my faith in two strangers on the same day. First Celeste, then Rowan.
Something about the two of them pulled me in and held me tight, giving me comfort I’d never known before. Peace I’d never felt. Faith I’d never possessed.
I decided right then to just go with it. I wasn’t going to analyze it, or debate it, or wonder if I was making the wrong decision, having confidence in them.
I just hoped I didn’t live to regret it.
Chapter 8
8
Rowan’s office was warm and cozy with a cheerful fire dancing in an oversized hearth. He led me to a couch sitting before the fireplace, angled to catch the heat. I sank down onto one end, extending my hands toward the flames.
“Wait,” I said, snatching my hands back and leaning forward to get a closer look, “are you burning wood?”
I’m sure I looked a little ridiculous, my blue eyes wide with disbelief as I turned toward Rowan, who’d taken the seat at the other end of the sofa. My gaze flicked from him to Celeste and back again, neither of their faces revealing any emotion.
Burning wood was illegal, an offense on the level of murder with just as serious a punishment. You had to cut down trees to get firewood. Trees our planet couldn’t afford to lose.
“Not to worry, December,” Rowan said, his voice like a balm against my frayed nerves. “It is but a trick of the eye.”
He motioned to Celeste, and she stepped forward and turned a knob next to the fireplace. The flames died down, leaving behind a stack of perfect, unburned wood. My head tilted to the side, trying to comprehend what I was seeing.
“The logs are synthetic, meant to resemble real firewood as natural gas feeds the flames,” he said, waving a finger at Celeste, who turned the knob to restart the fire. “See? Nothing to fear. I won’t be sentenced to death anytime soon.”
The crinkle of his eyes and slight upturning of his lips as he spoke calmed my nerves. I relaxed, deciding to take his explanation at face value and just enjoy the warmth and beauty of the crackling fire. I watched the fake wood turn red, sparks popp
ing, edges blackening and wondered what on Earth it was made of.
It sure looked real.
“December, here’s your room assignment and class schedule,” Celeste said, pulling me from my fire-hypnosis.
I looked toward her and she was holding out a sheet of paper. When I didn’t reach out, she gave it a wiggle and smiled, urging me to take it.
“It’s okay. Just breathe,” she murmured.
I stretched out an arm and grasped the paper. For some reason, my heart was pounding against my breastbone as fear rushed through my veins. I tried to regulate my breathing—in through the nose, out through the mouth—but refused to look down at the handwritten lettering on the paper.
I refused to ask about the fact that it was paper. They’d just tell me it was a synthetic material. From some synthetic material factory that they seemed to have untethered access to.
I squeezed my eyelids together, reminding myself that I’d already decided I liked the school. I was used to not being accepted, so I didn’t really have anything to fear from that angle.
And I was away from Todd and Gretchen. Things could only go up from there, right?
I relaxed my face, opening my eyes to peer down at my schedule. My room number was five-hundred-seventeen. Four class slots were listed with times and room numbers, but no course titles or descriptions were written down.
“The girls’ dormitory is housed in the north wing on the fourth and fifth floors,” Rowan said as my eyes drifted across the paper. “Celeste will show you the way. You can relax the rest of the day. I’ve taken the liberty of having lunch delivered to your room, to give you time to decompress, but dinner will be in the dining hall, six p.m. You will begin classes tomorrow.”
I pushed myself up off the couch and stood before him. He reached out a hand, and I took it, giving it a firm shake.
“Thank you, Rowan,” I said, forcing strength into my shaky voice.
“You’re welcome, my dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nodded, then turned to follow Celeste from the room. I would see him the following day, and every day after that. He was listed as my professor in the fourth slot on my schedule.
The halls were gloriously empty when Celeste and I left Rowan’s office and headed toward what I assumed was the north wing. I’d always had a terrible sense of direction, so I had no idea if it actually faced north or not. From the entrance to the school, it was the wing on the right. That’s how I would remember it.
Celeste led me to a behemoth of a staircase, with steps that were at least ten feet wide and large banisters on either side. As our shoes tapped up the polished surface, I caught Celeste’s eye and arched one eyebrow.
“Okay,” she said, holding her palms up in supplication, “the staircase is actually wood. This building was built before the Great Famine, before the Earth started to die.”
I nodded, accepting her explanation at face value. I could believe Oberon Academy was that old, with its stone walls and ancient architectural style. The people who lived and worked there had obviously been meticulous with its upkeep. I ran my hand along the smooth banister, then leaned in to smell it.
Celeste laughed, and my face heated up.
“What?” I asked. “I’ve never smelled real wood before.”
She laughed again, and I laughed with her. I probably looked ridiculous, smelling the handrail as I climbed the stairs. Celeste linked her arm through mine and picked up the pace.
By the time we reached the fifth floor, I was out of breath and could feel sweat rolling down my spine. I glanced over at Celeste, who didn’t have a hair out of place or a single bead of perspiration. She wasn’t even breathing hard.
I opened my mouth to comment on it, but snapped it closed again as I got my first view of the fifth floor hallway. Gleaming wooden arches divided the wide corridor into sections. I could see five doors on either side in the first section…wooden doors.
Soft electrical lighting created a warm glow along the hall. The modern light fixtures should have seemed out of place with all the antique architecture, but somehow, they fit. The hallway floor was some kind of tile, but not the cheap vinyl that I was used to seeing at the Holts’ house. It was something real, like quartz or granite.
Celeste led me down the corridor. I read the brass plate attached to the first door on my right.
“Room five-oh-one. Tiana Avery. Aubrey Ellsworth,” I mumbled.
Each door had a similar plate, listing a number and two names. The numbers seemed to ascend in order, with odd numbers on the right and even on the left. When we passed under the first huge archway, I looked ahead, spotting five-seventeen up on the right.
We stopped in front of the door and I read the brass plate. The first name listed was Shaela Goodman. Underneath was…December Thorne.
My face crinkled in confusion. I’d just decided to accept the scholarship that morning, and we’d driven straight to the school. When did they have the nameplate made?
“This place is so strange,” I mumbled under my breath. Shaking my head, I looked at Celeste. “Should I knock?”
She smiled, reaching forward to turn the knob. The door swung inward and she held out an arm, motioning for me to precede her through the door.
“This is your room, December. You don’t have to knock. Besides,” she said, “all students are in class right now. You’ll have the room to yourself for a little while.”
The room was…unexpected. I thought it would be a small, sterile space with a couple of narrow beds and maybe a desk, but it was so much more. Even with a full-sized bed on each side of the room, there was several feet of space between them. My shoes sank into the plush carpet as I shuffled inside, my eyes taking in the explosion of purple on one side of the room.
A deep purple comforter covered the mattress, which was piled high with pillows in shades that ranged from the same dark color to a very light lavender. A bedside table, which I realized was made of wood, held a lamp with a purple and blue shade covering the bulb.
The walls behind the bed were covered in art, the abstract swirls of color painted right onto the wood paneling, rather than on canvas or paper. My eyes followed the patterns, trying to make sense of them, but it was no use. I couldn’t tell what it was supposed to be, but with splashes of violet, blue, pink and yellow, it made that entire side of the room bright and cheerful.
My eyes roamed to the other wall, where a plain red blanket was wrapped around the mattress. Flannel sheets in green and black plaid peeked out near the top and two fluffy pillows with matching pillow cases were propped up against the wall that served as a headboard.
I looked at Celeste with an arched brow and she chuckled.
“I noticed you were wearing plaid yesterday, so I knew you liked it. The Christmas colors were Rowan’s idea. He thinks he’s hilarious.”
I smiled, imaging the old man slapping his knee the way old men did when they laughed. Somehow, the image didn’t fit. Rowan seemed much too dignified for that.
“Well, I do like red,” I admitted.
With the name December and Christmas for a birthday, red always seemed like a clichéd choice. Not that I had many choices, but if there were any other options in the burn bins when Gretchen took me “shopping,” I would stay away from red and green. The plaid shirt from the day before was my one exception. I’d worn it out of sheer necessity.
“Your uniforms and personal essentials are in that trunk,” Celeste said, pointing to the large piece at the foot of the bed. “I have to get going. Your lunch should be here soon. Relax, go through your new things. If you want to take a shower, the bathroom is at the end of the hall. I’ll see you at dinner.”
“Okay,” I mumbled, feeling a little bereft that she was leaving me.
“December, you’re going to be just fine. This is your home, now.”
Then she was gone. The soft click of the door held a note of finality, like the end of one life and the beginning of another. Whether or not the new one would be any be
tter than the old remained to be seen, but I had high hopes.
Honestly, living in a swamp would have been better than the constant fear I felt when living with the Holts.
I stretched out on top of the red comforter, my body sinking into the comfortable mattress. I moaned in pleasure, never having felt anything so amazingly soft and cushy. As my exhaustion took over and chased away coherent thought, my lips tugged upward.
“I could get used to this,” I murmured before my thoughts became incoherent and darkness engulfed me.
Chapter 9
9
“De-cem-ber, wake uh-up.”
The soft voice stretched out the words, giving them a sing-song quality that confused me as my mind shook off the last dregs of sleep. I blinked a few times, wondering where I was and why I was so very comfortable.
Everything came back to me in a rush, and I flew upright, my eyes searching out the source of the voice I’d heard. I found her standing at the foot of my bed holding a tray of something that smelled like heaven and had steam rising from it.
“Hi, December, I’m Shaela…Shaela Goodman,” she stammered before taking a deep breath. “I’m your new roommate.”
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
I really didn’t want to be suspicious of her, but she looked like a freaking angel had a baby with a super model and they hired a witch or some other magical being to cast a spell on that baby to get rid of any minor imperfections she may have possessed.
I shook my head to rein in my runaway thoughts. They were downright ridiculous.
“Well,” Shaela said, placing the tray she held on the foot of my bed, “it is engraved on our doorplate.” Walking over to her side of the room, she slouched down onto her bed and said, “Besides, everyone knows your name.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, unintentionally leaning toward the food. “How does everyone—wait, is that meat?”