sniggered. I turned my gaze to look at him, and my heart nearly stopped. Wow, he’s beautiful. I had no idea boys that hot existed outside of magazines and Hollywood movies. He stood practically the same height as Ms. West, his broad shoulders accentuated by the tailored cut of his red-trimmed blazer. Prefect and merit badges decorated both lapels. Dark brown curls caught the grey light filtering through the clouds, throwing back beautiful shades of russet and silver. His clean-shaven face and high, majestic cheekbones appeared angelic, but his ice-blue eyes were cold and cruel.
The girl moved closer to him, touching his arm and shooting me a possessive glare, like a cat in heat. She had the appearance of a cat, too – slanted green eyes accentuated with heavy makeup, pointed chin, and the lithe body and long legs of a panther. Beautiful but deadly.
“This is Trey Bloomberg and Courtney Haynes,” Headmistress West said. “I’ve appointed them as your student guides. They will show you the dorm, library, and dining hall, go over your schedule and classrooms, and ensure you understand all our rules. You will dine with the student body in two hours’ time, and tomorrow you begin classes. I’ve had a copy of your schedule and the school handbook placed in your room. Memorize them, for failure to comply will result in further demerits. Here’s your dorm room key.”
In my pocket, my phone gave another defiant chirp. Great. I’d practically worn down the battery looking for a signal on the death road.
Headmistress West descended the last step to drop an ancient-looking metal key into my hand. Her pointy black boots lined up with my scuffed Docs. She loomed over me, her disapproval seeping into my bones. “You have a phone in your pocket.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
Behind her, the boy smirked. I felt naked, exposed. My legs itched to make a run for the woods. Headmistress West held out her hand, unfurling long fingers topped with red-painted nails, the tips pointed like talons. “Hand it over. We don’t allow outside technology on campus.”
Instinctively, my hand flew to my pocket. “I won’t use it to call or text. It doesn’t work here, anyway, so what’s the—”
“Ms. Waite, failure to obey a teacher’s command is an automatic loss of 10 points. You seem most anxious to find out what punishments await the students at the bottom of the class list.”
A lump rose in my throat. My phone contained photographs – snaps of my mom smiling demurely or brushing her hair in the mirror before she went out to work at the strip club. Of Dante and I hanging out around the neighborhood, smoking on the rusted playground beside his house, tagging the concrete wall behind the boxing gym on the corner. Every other one of my possessions had been destroyed in the fire. Those photographs were practically all I had left of them.
Trey and Courtney covered their mouths with their hands, barely disguising their laughter. Courtney leaned over and whispered something to Trey. They both cracked up. Despite myself, my cheeks flushed. Better get used to this.
Headmistress West, of course, ignored them. She wasn’t backing down on this phone thing. My fingers closed around it, the comfortable weight of it in my hand reminding me that it was one of the last connections to my old life.
What does it matter? They’re gone. Looking at their photos won’t bring them back. But this school could be the only chance I have at a real future.
My hand trembling, I dropped my phone into her talons. As soon as it left my hand, I itched to get it back. Headmistress West slipped the phone into a fold of her dress, where it disappeared from sight.
“Follow me.” The headmistress swirled on her heel and floated up the stairs. Numb, I fell in step behind her. Trey came up beside me. His arm brushed mine, and a jolt of warmth rocketed through my body. I dared a look up at his face. As we moved into the shadow of the porch, the colors in his hair changed, becoming a deep brown and blood red. A curl flopped over his eye, and I noticed flecks of silver on the edges of those arresting blue irises. My fingers itched to reach up and swipe that curl off his face, to touch his smooth skin, feel his cheek move beneath my fingers, to cut myself on his cheekbones. A familiar longing pooled in my stomach, an ache that