Mortal

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER THREEPlease don’t let this be that bad.

Standing outside of the classroom door, I open my eyes and gather all of my courage. It’s debatable whether anyone heard my prayer, but at least I tried.

Someone bumps my shoulder, and I don’t even need to look to know it’s my roommate. She breezes into the classroom with two girls at her side, malicious giggles wafting behind them.

Yep. This is already bad.

“Excuse me? Are you coming in?” The teacher, a man with silver and blonde hair, stands in the doorway.

“Yes.” My voice cracks. “Sorry.”

There’s more laughter from inside the classroom.

The teacher smiles. “You must be Winter. I’m Professor Vassily. Welcome to Hawthorn. There’s a seat right there in the middle for you.”

“Th–thanks.” I walk to the desk, aware of the twenty or so pairs of eyes on me.

As I sit down, I allow myself a quick glance around the classroom. No Brynn.

Is she in another classroom somewhere, suffering through the same hell as I am?

Professor Vassily assumes his post at the front of the room. “All right, everyone. I trust that you finished Desert Solitaire and I won’t be embarrassed when I read your quiz results.”

He starts passing out papers but stops when he reaches me. “Winter, you can just pick up with our next assignment. For today, how about you write me an essay about what you’d like to get out of class this year?”

“I read the book.” I sit a little straighter. Actually, I read it twice.

It’s one of my favorites, but it was never assigned reading at my old school. Should it really be a surprise, though, that Hawthorn does things its own way?

Professor Vassily looks impressed. “Okay, then. Good luck.” He leaves a quiz on my desk before moving on.

Retrieving a pencil from my backpack, I bend over the paper, happy to have something to do.

“Hey,” someone whispers behind me.

I turn around to see a tall boy with rich brown hair, a chiseled jaw, and a cocky smile. My heart immediately does a flip.

I glance at Professor Vassily, who’s busy explaining to a student why the test can’t be taken using a yellow highlighter. “Uh, hi.”

“Where are you from?” His smile becomes more lopsided.

“Wisconsin.”

“I’m Gregory. Nice to meet you.”

 “You, too,” I mumble.

“Anna From Albany.” He nods in appreciation, his gaze on the band pin on my backpack.

I gasp with delight. “You know them?”

“Yeah. I saw them play in Jersey last year.”

A smile pulls at my lips. I’m super impressed, to say the least. Anna From Albany is a pretty obscure rock band, which is sad since in my opinion they’re also one of the greatest bands in the world.

Gregory smiles at me, and my chest inflates.

He winks at me. “I don’t want to get you in trouble,” he whispers. “Talk later?”

I nod. Taking a deep breath, I throw myself into the test. Twenty minutes later, I’m done and turning my paper in to Professor Vassily’s desk.

“Already?” He takes the paper from me.

“Yeah. I love the book.”

He chuckles. “You take after your father, I guess.”

I stare at him.

Professor Vassily rubs his temple. “I read your file. I saw that he was a professor. I’m sorry for your loss.”

The suffocating feeling I’m always working so hard to keep at bay presses down on my chest. I’m right back there, standing in the living room with the phone pressed to my ear, hearing those awful words: “terrible accident”... “passed away”...

I force my face to arrange itself into what hopefully passes for a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Back at my desk, I pull out a sheet of paper and try to write a list of good things in my life.

One: I have a roof over my head.

Sure, for now I do.

Two: I’m not dead.

But the only person I had in the whole world is.

Sighing, I give up and crumple the paper into a ball. Students are turning in their tests and starting conversations. Evidently every test day is followed by some free time.

The sound of a chair dragging against the floor assaults my ears. Gregory pulls his chair next to mine.

“How do you like it here so far?”

I consider not answering truthfully, but what do I have to lose? “I hate it.”

He chuckles. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”

“Is this place always so… grim and grumpy?”

He takes his time thinking about it, and I study his long neck and wide hands. What initially seemed cockiness might just be confidence, and that makes me want to get to know him.

“Not everyone,” he finally says. “I can take some guesses as to who gave you that impression, though.”

From across the room, my roommate glares daggers at me. Gregory follows my gaze, and I wish he wouldn’t. Now she’ll think I was talking bad about her, and the last thing I need is more conflict.

“Heather, huh?” Gregory asks.

“Heather.” I nod, like I already knew that–when, in reality, she never introduced herself to me.

“Eh, she’s all bark and no bite. She’ll warm up to you.”

That sounds impossible, especially considering she seems to hate me for no reason other than that I exist.

“What’s your next class?” Gregory nods at me, and I pull my schedule out of my backpack.

“Um… Herbal Traditions?”

What the heck does that mean?

Gregory must read the confusion on my face. “It’s stuff like foraging, what mushrooms to eat, what plants are medicinal.”

“Sounds cool.” And absolutely nothing like my old school.

It’s not even an extracurricular, or else I would have been given the choice of it. For some reason, at Hawthorn knowing what plant to rub on a sunburn is considered necessary knowledge. Not that I’m complaining. I’d rather be in that class than a math one any day.

A few other kids join us, two boys and a girl–or, rather, they join Gregory, pulling their chairs close to him. I shrink into myself, wanting to be that outgoing personality that walks in and knocks everyone off their feet with my perfect blend of wit and irreverence, but I’m not that. I’m just a midwestern fish out of water.

“You making friends with the new girl?” a pretty brunette asks. The way she bats her eyes at Gregory, it’s almost possessive.

I look away.

“Maybe.” Gregory shrugs a shoulder. “If she’ll have me.”

The others laugh appreciatively. But why? It’s not like he even said anything that funny.

More of the students gather around, until the only person who hasn’t joined the party is Professor Vassily, who’s at his desk grading papers. Heather and her two friends stand pressed together, having forgotten about me for the time being, their attention on Gregory.

“Hey, Gregory.” Another girl sits on the edge of his desk. “Wanna sit with me at lunch today?”

“Maybe.” Gregory winks at her, and for the first time in my life I understand what swooning is. She looks like she’s about to pass out from excitement.

Gregory turns back to me. “I was hoping Winter would sit with me today.”

A little thrill passes through me. It’s quick but powerful, leaving me buzzing in its aftermath.

“Yes” sits on the tip of my tongue, but I hold back. There’s someone else at Hawthorn that I’m hoping to run into today.

I grab my backpack from the back of my chair. “Thank you for asking, but I plan on eating with my friend.”

Hopefully. Assuming Brynn and I have the same lunch period.

Heather snorts. “You have a friend?”

One of the kids laughs, and it’s like the walls are closing in on me. Just like that, I’m folding in on myself, a deep feeling that I don’t belong here taking over.

Before I can answer her, the bell rings. Thank God.

Everyone disperses, but one person stays at their desk.

Gregory smiles at me, and there’s a new warmth to it. “If you don’t sit with your friend, the invitation is open.”

My heart slams against my chest. “O–okay. Thank you.”

“She might not even be in our lunch group.”

That’s true. Biting my bottom lip, I think it over. Gregory is obviously popular here, and while that in itself doesn’t matter, it would be nice to be accepted by someone like him. Maybe the other students will follow his example and give me a chance as well.

He’s also not hard on the eyes. Not one freaking bit.

And so I find myself nodding. “Yeah. I’d love to join you for lunch. Thanks for the invitation.”

With a wink, he grabs his bag, and saunters out of the room. I can’t stop my lips from curving upward.

Maybe this school won’t be a complete nightmare after all.

I leave the classroom. Heather is posted up in the hall, several girls gathered around her. “You’re dead,” she mouths at me as I pass by.

Okay. Maybe I spoke too soon.