Going Down in Flames (Going Down in Flames #1)(19)
What in the hell was making that noise?
Stunned by the ever-increasing volume of the music, Bryn scanned the room to find its source. Was it coming from her dresser? Stumbling across the room, she discovered a black, wrought iron box with a single silver button on top. She smacked the button, and the audio assault stopped.
As her heartbeat fought to return to a normal rhythm, she picked up the box. On the bottom was an engraved message.
We encourage students to rise early and prepare for their day. Failure to turn the alarm off within the first minute will result in increasing volume and turbulence until the reset button is depressed.
“I hate the Directorate already.” A quick check of her laptop showed she’d planned on waking in fifteen minutes anyway. No use going back to bed now.
After a shower, she stared into her armoire. “What outfit says mess with me at your own risk?”
Wanting to appear confident, she chose a short, black skirt and a blouse with thick, red and black stripes. For fun, she added black streaks to her hair. The combination of strawberry blond, gold, and black stripes made her look like a rebel.
Time to attend breakfast orientation.
She’d rather eat spiders.
On the walk across campus, students gawked, pointed, and whispered. Her cheeks heated. By the time she reached the dining hall, her stomach growled loud enough for other people to hear. Embarrassed, she made a beeline for the buffet where she piled her plate with eggs, fruit, and muffins.
Coffee in hand, she checked out the tables. Where to sit? Not a single friendly face met her gaze. Fine. Eating alone wouldn’t kill her.
She picked an empty table off to the side and studied the other dragons. Some students sat with their families. Why were their parents invited when hers weren’t? Ferrin probably had something to do with that. Jerk.
A group of students loitering in one corner caught her attention. They behaved like old friends. One guy stood out. His tousled blond hair, bright blue eyes, and golden skin meant he was a Blue. It kind of sucked that each Clan had specific coloring. Not that she was trying to blend in, but still… She went back to watching the popular blond boy. Where Zavien seemed to work at projecting a bad boy image, the blond resembled an ad for the All-American Male. She could picture him walking along a California beach, carrying a surfboard.
He must be some sort of leader. People rotated around him, and girls were drawn to him. A tall, blond girl, who reminded Bryn of a Russian ballerina, stood frozen by his side. When other females paid attention to him, she’d reach over and take his hand. He’d allow her to hold his hand for a moment before he disengaged himself to run his fingers through his hair or straighten his tie.
Poor girl fought a losing battle.
“The buffet will close in thirty minutes,” a disembodied voice announced. Seeking comfort in food, Bryn decided to make another plate. The young man she’d watched was last in line, holding two plates.
“Hungry this morning?” she asked.
He seemed surprised she spoke to him. His manners must have kicked in because he said, “One is for my mother.”
“That’s nice. My mom wasn’t able to come.” More like she wasn’t allowed or invited. She grabbed a plate and followed behind him.
He seemed content to choose his food in silence. She hoped to make one acquaintance before classes started, and if he was influential, it wouldn’t hurt to have him on her side.
She tried again. “What did you think of the alarm this morning?”
He placed an apple on his plate. “Whoever invented that vile mechanism should be shot.”
“I think they should be forced to watch foreign art films, with subtitles, without popcorn.”
He smiled, and Bryn felt a ray of hope that things here might not be so bad. She smiled back and grabbed an orange as he moved down the buffet. He didn’t appear inclined to continue the conversation.
Hoping she didn’t seem pushy, she asked, “Do you know a lot of people here?”
Focusing his blue eyes on her with laser-like intensity, he seemed to question her sincerity. After an agonizing amount of time, he said, “I do. My father is quite involved in the Institute.”
“He should have warned you about the alarm.”
“Yes, he should have.” His smile radiated warmth.
She took a leap of faith and introduced herself. “My name is Bryn.”
The smile slid from his face. It was replaced by a look of disbelief and then utter loathing. “You’re Bryn McKenna?”
Struck mute by his change in demeanor, she could only nod.
“How dare you speak to me!” Grabbing his plates, he stalked off.
Chapter Eight
His reaction was like a knife in her gut. Bryn clutched the buffet table for support. Taking a steadying breath, she plastered a fake smile on her face and walked back to her table.
So much for making friends.
The plate clattered on the table as she sank into her chair. Fire burned her stomach. Closing her eyes, she visualized snow. The hot sensation in her stomach was replaced by a cold, dull ache.
The boy hated her. Truly, deeply loathed her. How was that possible?
She played with her food while she contemplated what this might mean. Nothing good. That was for certain.
The amplified crackle of the sound system caught her attention. A silver-haired man stood at a podium in the front of the room. He cleared his throat to gain the attention of those who still chatted among themselves.