Nightworld Academy Box Set 1 Read online

  Her husband died recently, and Mum went to the funeral, but not me or Dad. I can imagine my drunk mother spilling to my aunt about her daughter's "problems". Why else would she offer to help?

  A week after expulsion from Moorland High, here I am.

  "The academy doesn’t often take students without an interview unless they have the right family connections. Your aunt either has a lot of money or you're talented," Jamie says.

  "Maeve's very clever," Mum smiles with pride.

  "Does she have the same surname?" he asks.

  "No. Marie is my sister. She could have connections, as I know she attended the academy. It's Willowbrook."

  His mouth parts as if we just told him we know an X Factor winner, but he keeps his thoughts to himself.

  I trudge up the steps into the academy with my heart beating harder the closer I get to the gaping maw. Doorway. I mean, doorway.

  "Oh, sorry. I've been rude and not introduced myself properly." Jamie shrugs the backpack further up one shoulder and extends a hand to my father. "I’m Jamie Greenwood and also a student at the academy. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Foster."

  Confused but evidently impressed by the etiquette the academy instils, Dad shakes his hand. Jamie smiles and offers his hand to Mum. They awkwardly shake before Jamie holds a hand out to me.

  I stare.

  His hand remains extended.

  I look at him harder.

  He doesn't drop his hand.

  Did I really see him die?

  Chapter Two

  MAEVE

  I dig my hands into my jacket pocket, and I sweep forward into the large entrance hall. Black and white tiles line the floor in a chequered pattern and the walls are painted dark blue. Three large banners in different colours hang on the wall, each with a different symbol. Teal. Red. Yellow. House colours?

  I twist my head further to the left, where gold trophies fill a glass-fronted cabinet. Across the wall opposite, the academy motto is painted. I can't read Latin—and hope that's not on the curriculum—but amuse myself with the thought that the words read 'abandon hope all ye who enter here'.

  Beside the cabinet, more stone stairs spiral upwards and a second set lead upwards to the right. I tip my head to look at the vast ceiling. A map of the world is painted on the roof, in an antique style with gold and silver edging the blue seas and a much older artistic impression of the countries.

  Jamie thankfully drops his hand and engages Mum in conversation. Dad surveys the surroundings, and I can almost hear his brain whirring. I wish they'd leave so I can hide in my new room, but we haven't met the headmistress yet, which they insist on.

  My boots scuff along the hallway as I drag my feet, and Jamie guides us to a large door at the end of a nearby hallway. The thick wood is polished with a silver door knob to match, but there's no plaque on the door to indicate whose room this is. The occupant must be important enough for everybody to know. Jamie raps on the door.

  I take a deep breath and pull on the polite, demure Maeve I can be if needed. I was warned to make a good impression. Was the academy given details about my last school? The door opens and a woman stands in the doorway. I'd imagined the headmistress as a squat woman with grey hair in a bun, ready to chastise people. Or a straight-laced, business-suited woman with a severe hairstyle to match her severe expression.

  Instead, a curvaceous woman with glossy brown hair smiles down at us with perfectly painted lips on her beautiful face. I glance at Dad, who Mum looks at too. He's never had an affair, but his eyes tend to wander, and in this case, they’d have a reason. Her stunning figure, not hidden by baggy clothes but accentuated in a fitted, black, woollen dress, must distract her students. I guess that's one way to keep them in check—knock them speechless.

  "Maeve!" She lifts a hand to usher us into the room. "And this must be Mr. and Mrs. Foster. So wonderful to make your acquaintance."

  Her lilting voice has a smooth tone which would be perfect for an advertising voiceover. This woman’s tones could persuade anybody to buy anything.

  "Good afternoon, Mrs. Lancaster." Dad holds his hand out and she waves hers with a 'tosh' sound.

  "Theodora, please. Everybody calls me by my first name—including the students, isn't that right, Jamie?"

  "Correct."

  I startle at how near his voice is to me, suddenly aware how close he must be. My stress over meeting my new headmistress fades away as his presence relaxes me. More than that, I feel I know Jamie, as if there's an affinity. Am I a mad person sensing kindred spirits? We could have a conversation: "Hey, do you hallucinate too?"

  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, ch
atting, 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."

  Oh great, this gets better. "Snoring?"

  Jamie hands over my bag and wanders away; I follow Amelia. As I step into the dorm room, I'm relieved that Amelia was right about the size and this isn't an intimate setting. Instead, a bamboo partition divides the room, and two comfy-looking red armchairs and a TV take up the space in the middle. A bathroom leads off to the left. The warm yellow walls are a contrast to the muted colours I’ve seen everywhere else. A large painting of an ocean hangs opposite the large bay window and the place is clean and tidy. I grimace. I’m not clean and tidy; I hope that won’t cause conflict.

  Amelia enthusiastically shows me around the shared space, and I smile back politely, head still spinning. Somebody else has fetched up the bedding I brought with me, and the star-covered duvet knots my stomach. This is my room now. No more locking myself away from everybody and ignoring the world.

  I squeeze my eyes closed to force back the stupid tears.

  "Thanks for welcoming me," I say as I sit in an armchair.

  "Of course! I remember being new, and starting a week into term must be daunting."

  I wait for the question: ‘why?’ but Amelia gives one of her smiles again. Does she ever stop smiling?

  "Dinner is 6:30," she announces as I open my rucksack.

  I’d protest that I’m not hungry and could lurk here for the evening, but I doubt she'd allow that. I return her smile, even though my face aches.

  Chapter Three

  MAEVE

  When I walk into the dining room I pause. Where are the chandeliers? The long wooden tables with uniformed kids eating from china plates and drinking from goblets? I’ve seen American high school cafeterias in movies and shows, and this is similar, which is a bizarre contrast to the building I've seen so far. Bright white walls with notices pinned to boards, plastic seats and melamine floors. Sixth formers didn't use the dining area at my old school. We segregated ourselves in the common rooms away from the lesser beings—anybody not in Sixth Form.

  I glance around at the pupils surrounding the rectangular white tables. I’d hide behind Amelia but can't, because she’s a good few inches shorter than me.

  Jamie waves at us from a table close to the door, where he sits beside a guy who's broader and taller than those around him, with powerful shoulders, and large forearms resting on the table. I saw playing fields on the drive through the grounds, with rugby goals. I'd lay bets that he's on the team.

  As I slide into an uncomfortable chair opposite the pair, I take another surreptitious glance around me. Most look ordinary, thankfully, and also don't pay any attention. One group sits apart from the others, and they're an odd mix. Three attractive girls dressed in colourful clothes and covered in jewellery sit beside a guy dressed in black who’s hunched over his phone. Another stocky guy with short red hair lounges back in his seat with a large hand on one of the girl’s legs. They don't pay attention to anybody.

  "This is Maeve," announces Amelia to Jamie and his friend, a little too loudly, and we attract attention from a group of burly guys at an adjacent table. One stares at me and I’m unnerved by the amber-flecked brown eyes. Why does he look as if he doesn’t like me? We’ve never met. He glances at the big guy sitting with us and arches a brow.

  "Hello, Maeve," says Jamie’s friend.

  His formality takes me aback. No laconic "hey" or dismissive nod. His eyes match the guy who looked at me, but he’s better looking by a long way. His face has an unusual symmetry, his brow heavy and his brown hair shorter than Jamie's. There's a confidence in his aura, but with it a friendliness that immediately warms me to him.

  "I’m Ash." He smiles and dimples appear. "Welcome to the academy." Ash takes an energy drink can from the table, his hand almost covering the whole thing, and slurps. "You look nervous."

  "Of course, she is!" puts in Amelia. "First day at a new school and she's the only new girl this year."

  This, I did not want to hear. "Am I?"

  "Most students have moved on to the academy from the same high school. But you'll be fine."

  "So, everybody here has known each other for years?" My palms sweat and I rub them on my jeans. I should've stayed in my room; I have crisps and chocolate in my bag, they would be enough to stave off hunger.

  "Are there many students?" I ask.

  "No. This academy is more exclusive, as you know," Jamie replies.

  "We’re cream of the crop," says Ash and winks at me.

  My mind blanks at his action.

  Amelia takes my arm and pulls me to my feet. "Come with me and I'll tell you what's worth eating."

  Feeling as if I'm under a spotlight, I allow Amelia to lead me across the floor and I cringe as my shoes squeak. At the opposite side of the room, there's a long serving counter where small glass doors allow students to choose food for their meals. Further along, a bored-looking woman stands over hot metal trays containing more substantial meals. I salivate at the greasy goodness in front of me.

  Chips. I'd kill for hot, delicious chips right now.

  Taking a juice box, I slide my tray along the space leading through the selections of sandwiches and salads towards the less-healthy food. The young woman behind the serving counter perks up as I say hello and ask for a plateful.

  "Ugh. You should watch yourself if you eat junk like that."

  I look round to where a tall, attractive girl looks down with her nose wrinkled. We have the same hair colour, although hers is sleek and straightened to perfection. Mine, however, is natural blonde. Her beautiful features are accentuated by a perfect choice of lipstick and eye make-up, which co-ordinate with the short pink dress she wears.

  "I like chips," I say, then almost slap myself at how stupid I sound.

  "Everybody likes chips." She takes one between her fingers and delicately nibbles. "But some of us prefer to look good."

  "Pardon?"

  She gives me the once over. "You don't want a fat backside. Guys like some curves, but not if you're..." She blows air into her cheeks as if making herself fatter. A girl, dressed to match beside her, giggles.

  Wow. Just wow.

&n
bsp; "Are you picking on the new girl, Katherine?" A guy standing behind the blonde leans against the counter, resting on one elbow, body angled towards mine. He's tall and intense-looking, dark hair swept into his face with startling green eyes beneath his fringe. Chains hang through his belt loop and his faded band t-shirt beneath an open black shirt adds to his edgy effect. These are the group I saw together at the table. In my old school, they wouldn't mix.

  "Why? Do you want to be her friend, Andrei?" mocks Katherine.

  He regards me impassively. "What's your name?"

  "Maeve."

  "Maeve what?"

  "Foster."

  "Oh." He turns away. "I thought you might've been someone interesting."

  Katherine snickers, and I clear my throat. "You mean edgy like you?"

  He slowly turns to look back at me. "I'm in the advanced program. Are you?" Andrei smiles at my blank look. "No? Didn't think so. Therefore, not interesting."

  He pulls himself away from the counter and inclines his head to Katherine. "Finish up here and stop being a goddamn cliché mean girl."

  "I am not," she retorts. "I just have a forceful personality."

  He chokes a laugh. "Sure thing, Kat."

  Without a word or look in my direction, Andrei saunters off to the table he sat at earlier. Katherine loses her interest in me, too busy glowering at Andrei, as she grabs a bottle of water and flashes a card at the payment machine. She follows him and sits, handing him a savage look.

  The red-haired guy at their table watches too, drinking slowly from a can. They're a mismatched group—the pretty girl with her hangers-on, the moody emo dude and someone wearing what appears to be a blue and white varsity jacket. A jock type? Why isn't he with the guys at the table behind Jamie’s, who I'd earmarked as the sporty gang?

  I startle as Jamie appears at my shoulder and takes my tray. "I'll get these, sit back down and ignore the idiots." I look back into his kind eyes and insist to myself he isn't the guy from my vision. But the ring. He wore the same one. I stare at where he holds the tray and the glinting signet ring on his middle right finger. He follows my gaze.