Standing on the highest balcony at the school, I shiver. My eyes trace the jaw dropping beauty of the Swiss Alps. The scene is set dramatically with two nearly vertical cliff faces. Each is snow-capped and soars impossibly high, chilling the dark stone foundations of the school I’m standing on. A waterfall crashes down nearby, providing a perfect frame for the backdrop of more snowy, white peaks.
I sniffle as the wind picks up, bringing with it the season’s first fat flakes of snow. The balcony I’m on is barely three feet deep and a dozen feet long, easily accessible through a thick wooden door. It’s one of a dozen small balconies clinging to the castle’s upper floors; in medieval times, this was probably meant for archers to be able to pop out and fire rapidly.
We’ve been studying castles and the feudal system during history and the castle itself has been rather illustrious.
Too bad that I hate it here.
Bracing myself against the cold, I will myself to stop crying.
Princes don’t cry.
It’s just that this boarding school is very far away from home. I was sent here last month after being kicked out of yet another prep school back in Copenhagen. And it hasn’t been an easy adjustment.
St. Matthew’s is housed in an old castle, drafty in the winter and dark all the time. Back home, I slept in adjoining rooms with my older brother Stellan; here I feel alone nearly all the time.
Not to mention the fact that the kids that attend St. Matthew’s are the dictionary definition of a clique. So far, I only seem to be able to piss off the boys and make the girls turn up their noses.
It really hasn’t been a very good start to the second half of my seventh grade year.
I stare out at the mountains in the distance, I wish I were like their dark, rocky surfaces. Hard, impenetrable, cold. I’m. very much not those things. Instead, I’m slipping away from my pre-algebra class to sneak outside for privacy and bawl like a little baby. If anybody in school found out that I did this regularly, I would be humiliated.
As I grapple with my runaway emotions, the heavy wood door creaks open. One of my classmates sticks her head of bright copper curls out, checking to see if anyone is here.
God, please don’t let her come out here. Please don’t let her see me like this. I wipe my face, waiting for a second.
Then she steps out, looking away toward the majestic waterfall. I suck in a breath and slip away from her, pressing against the building facade. Thank god the building turns ever so slightly and hides my presence.
I watch as the girl steps out, letting the door close behind her and leaning on the dark stone balcony railing. She’s slender and willowy, her skin as fair as cream. She has light colored eyes and an upturned button nose. Her crown of curls spirals down her shoulders, falling almost to her waist. She’s only wearing her uniform: a white button up shirt, a heavy black sweater with the school logo stitched into it, a pleated gray plaid skirt, and thick black tights. I’m wearing my heaviest coat and I’m still freezing. She has to be crazy.
Tilting my head, I try to put a name with her face. Unfortunately I haven’t really learned everyone yet, especially not the people who aren’t popular. My eyes slide over her again, head to toe.
I’m a little surprised at not recognizing this girl, because she is really pretty.
No, pretty isn’t right.
As she raises her eyes to the sky, her lips moving silently, she makes my heart skip a beat. She’s beautiful.
I’m not expecting her to start weeping, though. She murmurs something that I can’t quite hear, dropping her head low. Her face contorts. Her eyes shimmer with tears.
I straighten my head, looking away. She’s clearly expecting privacy. I try to give it to her, although there isn’t much room on the balcony to move.
I inch away from her, shivering. There is a small pebble on the floor, something that I thoughtlessly kick out of my way. She suddenly looks up, her eyes wide.
When she speaks, her breath condenses in the air. “Is someone there?”
Her accent is foreign, perhaps British. Her voice is smooth and light, melodic to my ears.
I freeze. Before I can decide whether or not to call out, she takes a step closer, coming around the sharp point in the facade. Her eyes go