Nightworld Academy: Term One(Nightworld Academy #1)(8)

"Academic?"

"Above average but not genius level."

He pauses and looks down at me. "It's weird that you don't know how this academy operates. Is there a family connection?"

Wow, he doesn't stop. "I think my aunt attended here, but that would be fifty years ago."

"Do you know any of the students?"

Each question drives my heart rate upwards, and this last one pushes hard into my mind.

I curse beneath my breath as the familiar pain spreads across my temples and a pressure builds behind my eyes. My blood courses with fear and horror as Jamie's death flashes in front of my eyes, as if I'm witnessing every second. I hold my hands against the side of my head and try to push the pictures away, but the vision takes hold. I can't see Ash. I can't see the academy.

I can't see anything but a bloodied and dying Jamie.

"Maeve?"

Ash's voice sounds distant, and I open my eyes to focus on my surroundings as the images fade. Blackness is replaced with the grey clouds above—and Ash's face as he looks down in concern.

I groan and cover my face with my hands before peeking through my fingers. "Sorry," I mumble.

"I need to find someone to help. Are you epileptic? Did you have a fit?" His eyes search my face. "Lie on your side."

"I'm fine," I groan. "Just fainted."

"You were mumbling something about Jamie. Then you collapsed." He chews his lip. "Did you see something?"

I rub my head with a trembling hand. Why would he ask that? "Fainted," I repeat and struggle to sit. "I'll be fine. Don't tell anyone."

Ash takes my hand, which is hotter than I'd imagine from someone in the cold, especially now he's finished running around the pitch.

"I don't want to be the focus of the day—the new girl collapsing and rambling like a madwoman."

His brow knits for a few moments. "Okay. If you can walk back to academy, then I won't tell anybody. Sometimes people have strange... turns here."

I smile gratefully and allow him to pull me to my feet. His warmth and care touch me and pushes away some of the loneliness. He isn't judging or laughing at me. He appears to genuinely care.

Steadying myself with a hand on his arm, I glance around, hoping to hell nobody else saw.

"Come on. Show me you can walk in a straight line." I frown at him. "I’m joking but stay upright. You can lean on me if you like."

I refuse, even though hanging onto him is tempting, but that's another thing I don't want—the new girl seen with the popular guy, getting her claws into him.

We reach the academy doorway and the rest of the rugby team files past us, some clapping Ash on the back and congratulating him on a good practice session. He graciously returns the compliment. A couple of younger-looking guys' smiles broaden when he speaks to them. Ash must be a bigger star than I thought.

"Okay. You're fine. I'll let you go," he tells me as we step into the hallway. Ash pulls at the front of his top. "I'd better get cleaned up. I must stink."

"Thanks for not telling anybody," I say.

He shrugs. "All good. Nobody likes being centre of attention."

"You seem to be centre of attention."

"Exactly." He scratches a cheek. "What's your aunt's surname?"

His out of the blue question confuses me. "Willowbrook."

I don't know what significance this has to Ash, but he blinks at me and then looks as if seeing me through new eyes. "Jamie asked the same question. Why?"

"I'm nosey. Catch you later. I think I'm in your history class this evening."

Before I can push for more, he strides away, his tall frame straight and confident.

There are two odd things here: his response to my aunt’s name—and the fact I have a History class at 7 p.m.





Chapter Five





MAEVE



The history classroom overlooks the cloisters in the middle of the main academy building, through several long, arched windows which are bare but clean. The individual desks are arranged in rows of three with enough seating for twenty-four students. I hesitate in the doorway. Why did I arrive this early? Only a handful of people are in the room, and I don't know which desks are available. I don’t want to sit somewhere I shouldn’t and upset anybody.

Amelia was called to an appointment with a school counsellor, and I was told to expect one soon by the middle-aged woman who came to collect her. Did Ash say something or is this the start of my 'help'? Amelia doesn't strike me as someone with issues, but I've known her less than two days. I study the faces of others in the classroom. How many of us have 'problems'?

As if to answer my question, someone knocks into me. "Out of the way."

I turn to meet Andrei's strange green eyes as he stands in the doorway beside me. "Rude much?"

He crosses his arms. "I've been wondering something. You're not on the advanced program. Why is that? Don’t have the intelligence?"

"I doubt everybody is," I retort.

He taps his lips. "Aren't they?"

My scalp prickles.

"Leave her alone, hypocrite." Jamie guides me into the room by an elbow and my shoulders sag with relief. "Tell Maeve how old you are."