Nightworld Academy: Term One(Nightworld Academy #1)(4)

Or not.

"Jamie, would you like to show Maeve to her dorm room while I speak to her parents? We just need to go over some boring paperwork. Perhaps goodbyes would be easier done quickly and now."

Her easy, breezy words seal my fate, but worse, Mum looks like she's about to cry. Tears prick my eyes too and I turn to Jamie. "Please do. I can’t wait to see my new room."

He grins and drags his hair from his face again, the same ring flashing. If I had a fringe that flopped into my eyes as much as his does, I'd cut it. Constantly dragging at my hair would annoy the crap out of me.

Following an awkward public goodbye, and promises to call later, I escape the room with Jamie.

"I'll show you part of the way to the dorms, then we can find Amelia. She's your roommate, I believe."

"My what?" I'm filled with scary images of boarding school dormitories—rows of beds and no privacy. Stupidly, I'd expected my own room.

"Most people share with one other, unless they're particularly difficult to live with, or wealthy enough that daddy buys them their own room. Luckily, we don't have many of either in Walcott house." He scratches his nose. "People in Petrescu house tend to have their own rooms. There's more space over there."

"House?"

I follow him along the hallway and back to the entrance hall. He gestures at the wall covered by the banner. "Surely your last school had houses for sports carnivals, or friendly competition? We do too."

"Right. And how did the academy choose which house I'm assigned to?" I glance at the gothic surroundings again. "Sorting hat?"

Jamie gives a wry smile. "No. Pupils are assigned where Theodora sees fit. For you, it's Walcott."

"Is the house any good?" Personally, I'd choose Petrescu. I could put up with the arrogance if it meant my own room.

He chuckles. "I think so. Walcott is my house too."

"And the third?"

"Gilgamesh. They're okay, but maybe avoid them until you've settled in."

Silenced by his words, I follow Jamie up the stairs, which wind around to a second floor. He pauses by a large window with a view across the academy's rear grounds. The building creates an L shape with a separate part of the academy opposite, not touched by the main building. "Is that where the teachers live?" I ask.

"No. That's the Petrescu house." His tone changes and I sense house wars.

"Right."

I need to gather as much information as possible to decide where I want to place myself socially. Honestly, I'd rather climb into the car with my parents and go home. I argued I could find a job instead, now I'd finished my GCSEs, but my ambition to become a psychiatrist means I need a university education. I have a head start, having met a few shrinks.

"I haven't seen a subject selection," I say to Jamie. "What A levels are you taking?"

A small crease forms between his brows. "Oh. Uh..."

"They do teach A levels here, right?" I ask with a laugh. "Or is this all group therapy and crap like that?"

Jamie snorts. "No. You'll leave with qualifications, don't worry."

Weighed down by my rucksack across his broad shoulders, Jamie continues along a different hallway. I've entered a maze of wood panelling and ugly maroon tiled floors. The building smells of floor polish and something sweet that could be air freshener. Or those oil things you plug into the wall. Two girls in academy uniforms rest against one, chatting, and appraise me as we pass. I smile, but the gesture isn't returned.

Oh, great.

"Where is everybody?" I ask. The hallways should be filled with chatter or movement at 6 p.m., but... nobody.

"Most are at class."

I stop and stare. "At six? Holy crap, how long is a school day here?"

"The students attend off campus activities in the daytime—internships, part-time jobs. Lessons start after lunch and end at six. Then those on the advanced program have extra."

"More lessons? I hope I don't end up on that. What do they study?"

I don't receive my answer as a girl’s voice calls out Jamie's name and practically skips down the hallway towards us. She's shorter than me and curvy; her sharp features and large brown eyes are accentuated by a bobbed hair style chopped short around her face. Her eyes crinkle at the corners with a beaming smile that lowers my defences for the first time.

"Maeve, right? I'm Amelia." She nods at Jamie. "Thanks for showing Maeve the way here."

"Makes sense. I live in this part of the academy too. I was taking Maeve to the common room to wait for you." He tips his head. "Why aren't you in class?"

Amelia pulls a face. "I hurt myself."

I take a cursory glance. She looks fine, but what do I know?

"You need to be more careful. I presume you mean Professor Turlington's class?"

She huffs. "Yes, and Ash wasn't with me to help."

I chew on my lip and look around the hallway. The exterior of the building is matched by the interior—dated and depressing. For such a prestigious school, you'd think they'd be able to upgrade the decor.

"Never mind, it means I'll be able to help my new roommate settle in," Amelia continues.

I snap my thoughts away from my analysis of the decor. She laughs at my half-hidden horror. "We share a big room, don't worry. You won't hear my snoring."