Nightworld Academy: Term One(Nightworld Academy #1)
L.J. Swallow
Prologue
MAEVE
"Tyler told one blonde joke too many, and my hand slipped."
"Into his nose?" Mrs. Peel's frosty blue eyes remain on mine as my explanation for my behaviour falls flat. I'm not affected by her hypnotic stare and refuse to crumble into apologies for my behaviour.
Especially not for punching Tyler.
"He needed hospital treatment," she continues.
"I am sick of him bullying me, and his jokes aren’t funny." I push my long, blonde hair over my shoulder and wrinkle my nose. A floral scent always overpowers anybody summoned to Mrs. Peel's room. The smell isn't from the fake lilies in the corner, but rather her perfume. Maybe the student counsellor wears the scent to get information out of troublemakers quickly. Those who'll tell her anything to get out of the room and stop choking on the perfume.
I fiddle with my jacket zip. "Okay, I hit him harder than I should."
"You shouldn’t hit people at all. Don't you have any remorse?" The famous glare continues.
I bite back the "not really" about to spill from my mouth and turn on my filter instead. I have no remorse, because I knew what Tyler planned to do tonight. How? This isn't a case of my spider senses tingling, but the increasingly accurate and annoying visions that crack across my skull at unfortunate moments. They hurt and they blind me.
As a kid, I was diagnosed with migraines. Then tested for epilepsy. A couple of years ago, I was carted off to the psychiatrist to seek treatment for my hallucinations.
After that fun stay in the clinic, I kept my mouth shut and put up with the attacks.
Recently, they've been clearer and more frequent. In my last vision, I saw Tyler attack the chief geek from our science class. I hate a bully, but bullies who choose the weakest to make themselves feel powerful piss me off more. In my vision, Tyler punched him, and I saw Denny hit his head on the pavement curb, around the corner from the school playground. I watched as Tyler panicked when the kid wouldn't move or speak. Then I bristled with anger when the Tyler in my vision ran, leaving the boy to die in the rain.
I don't usually act on my visions—the world operates as it does for a reason, right? I’ve seen movies where people dabble with time and that never ends well.
But this is different.
The Denny in my vision died, and I decided to stop Tyler leaving school today. I had a chance to save a life.
Fortunately for me, Tyler also dislikes the scrawny blonde girl who sits in front of him in most classes. He goads me regularly, but I've never been brave enough to confront him. Until yesterday. I needed to stop him attacking Denny, so I stood up to him when he made a snide comment.
Unfortunately, smacking one of the school's most popular kids in the face isn't helpful behaviour when attacking other students leads to instant expulsion from the local high school.
To be honest, Tyler should be thanking me, because if I hadn't spread his nose across his face, he'd be in bigger trouble than I am now.
The sun shines through the window overlooking the playground, picking up dust particles that dance around the room, and the beam spreads across the counsellor's cluttered desk.
"You haven't changed your calendar." I point at the scenic image of Switzerland's wild flowers. She blinks in confusion. My mind jumps around a lot, especially when I’m stressed. "It's July 1st. Not June." I point at the calendar and she glares harder.
Mrs. Peel reaches out and flicks over the desk calendar and the paper tears with the ferocity. "I am calling your parents."
Crap. No. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm just stressed about exams and trying to block out yesterday's trauma."
"What trauma?"
"Tyler. "
"The trauma you caused?"
Oh hell, this isn't going well. "Please don't call my parents. I'll do anything. Put me on litter duty for a month. I'll even take on gum-scraping duty too." Checking under every chair in every classroom for disgusting second-hand gum is the worst, but better than the alternative. If I'm expelled, my already shaky relationship with my parents will go south.
Mrs. Peel's lips twitch and a look of triumph crosses her face at my sweaty-palmed fear. "I'm sorry, Maeve, but you know the school policy on violent behaviour. Perhaps this is for the best, considering your other issues."
In the words of the great philosopher: FML
Chapter One
TWO WEEKS LATER
MAEVE
The pink and white roses growing around the gates to Ravenwood Academy do little to take away the institutional look of the building. There's no barbed wire, but there are strategically placed "you're being watched" security signs along the perimeter fence. I don't doubt that applies to both students and intruders.
Dad’s car rolls along the long driveway leading up to the main building. The weathered grey brick blends with the cloudy sky, and the academy looms over the grounds, casting shadows across the surroundings.
"This was once an asylum," I announce from the backseat as I stare at the rows of tiny windows. "I looked at the history."
My parents look at each other and say nothing.