DARK ANGEL (Scarlett of the wolves #2)

After the euphoria of the induction week, things would get more serious. I woke up early enough to make sure I wasn’t late. I hadn’t yet mastered the college schedule, and I would very likely get lost before I found the lecture hall where I was supposed to have class. I frankly didn’t want to stand out for my first official day. I opened my bedroom door and walked into the kitchen to have breakfast—I had found a shared apartment right in the city centre, just five minutes from the History Department building. “Hi, Charlot!” “Scarlett,” I corrected. “Oh, yes, Scarlett. Sorry,” Tarja apologized. Tarja was my roommate, arriving straight from Finland. She was starting a course in medieval history, like me. Tarja’s university in Helsinki allowed her to spend the first year at the university of her choice. “I think I lost my schedule,” she said. “I have mine. We can go together.” “Thank you, Scarlett! Breakfast?” she offered, handing me a bowl as she ate. “Uh, no, thank you. I’m only going to drink tea this morning.” The day before, she had been very happy to prepare the traditional Finnish breakfast for me: porridge with jam. Not wanting to seem rude, I had finished my bowl but had had a heavy stomach all day. Tarja didn’t fit the profile I had imagined for most Finns. I thought, like the Swedes, they were all very tall, blond with blue eyes. Tarja was short—shorter than me—long, straight, black hair, with big dark eyes. She could almost have been mistaken for a North American Indian if her skin hadn’t been so pale—much paler than mine! I liked her. She was a discreet and gentle girl. I was happy to share an apartment with her. “Hmm... we won’t be able to invite many people,” she remarked, glancing around our tiny kitchen. “It’s so small.” It was located in a corner of the main room. We only had a ridiculous table for two. But the apartment was cosy, on the third floor of an old building. The owner had furnished the living room with a coffee table, a large sofa, a TV, a DVD player and several bean bags on the floor which I loved to wallow in. We had one bedroom each, but only one bathroom that we didn’t mind sharing. The room where I slept was lit by a large bay window, without shutters. I immediately noticed that I could easily see everything that was happening at my neighbours across the street and vice versa. He and I were going to become very intimate... I had to think about buying large blackout curtains. After my shower, I put on jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. While visiting the university, I noticed that the rooms were central-heated. So, there was no point in dressing as if I were at the North Pole. However, outside it was freezing. Fortunately, before I left, I bought a parka that was a little thicker and warmer than my duffle coat. Tarja and I had a few classes together. The first started at nine o’clock: an introduction to the history of St Andrews. It was a twelve-hour option that we wanted to take. Neither she nor I knew the city, and we had thought that the occasion would be as fun as it was useful, since tours of historic buildings were planned. “I’m ready!” cried Tarja. I gave her a surprised look. “Are you going to go out like that?” I was flabbergasted. She was wearing a ridiculous short-sleeved T-shirt and simple thin canvas pants. “Yes... you know, back home it’s much colder than this. Here, it feels like summer!” “You’re kidding me, aren’t you?” “Hmm... Not really!” “If you say so...” Me, there was no question of avoiding my parka! “You’re not going to put on a hat?” Tarja scoffed when she saw that I was about to cover my head. “Fall has only just started!” Resigned, I put it back on the coat rack. Outside, I immediately regretted not having listened to myself. We were by the North Sea. Here, the cold mixed with the almost permanent wind could freeze your bones. I pulled up my hood and, my hands in my pockets, I walked with Tarja to college. The lecture hall was already packed. I didn’t see where we were going to be able to settle. Tarja managed to find a seat. All I could do was sit down on the steps next to her. It was uncomfortable, inconvenient, but it was much better than standing. The professor, Mr Jefferson, arrived. The noise didn’t stop, although his particular style should have silenced everyone, he must have been in his early fifties, small, with greying temples, he was dressed in an old-fashioned way, with a brown suit, a shirt with small checks and a matching tie. A thin chain protruded from his waistcoat. That would be his watch, wouldn’t it? He reminded me of the Alice in Wonderland bunny! He settled himself behind a desk that seemed way too big for him, barely seeing over it. He turned on the microphone and tapped on it, creating horrifying feedback that instantly silenced the crowd. He introduced himself very briefly in a rather laughable solemn voice. Then he informed us that even if his course was only optional, it wouldn’t be the easiest. Excursions would be compulsory for anyone wishing to take this option, and wouldn’t be included in the twelve hours of class initially scheduled. Each week, the course would begin with a graded questionnaire on our readings, he didn’t fail to point out that if the students found this class too difficult, there was still time for them to leave the lecture hall, now. I widened my eyes in amazement as I saw a slew of students rushing towards the exit as if their lives depended on it. I got up quickly because twice I almost got shoved forward violently. Barely five minutes later, the lecture hall, intended to hold one hundred and fifty people, was emptied of almost all of its souls. There were only... thirty-two students left! I was appalled. But this wasn’t Mr Jefferson’s first attempt at emptying a room. He was calm, relaxed and hadn’t raised his head once during the desertion of his one hundred and eighteen ex-future students. “Good,” he said finally. “Now we can see you more clearly!” At the end of the class, we had a considerable reading list for the following week. I already regretted having chosen this option... As the afternoon was free, Tarja and I decided to take the opportunity to buy some books that were already out at the college library. Although St Andrews is a fairly small town, it has a gigantic bookstore. You can find almost anything there, including books in foreign languages. This isn’t surprising, since the city has a significant number of students from all over the world. When we got out of the store, it was starting to rain. We were more than a quarter of an hour from home and neither Tarja nor I wanted to arrive soaked. Not very far from the bookstore, I had spotted a small tea room that seemed rather welcoming. I suggested that we stop there for a hot drink. In front of the window, she hesitated for a moment. “Are you sure you want to go in here?” “Yes,” I insisted, pushing open the door. “It looks nice.” She shrugged, unconvinced, and followed me. The interior was packed. We took one of the few tables still available and ordered teas and pastries. “You see, it’s nice here!” I enthusiastically looked at the kitsch decor. Tarja ran a hand through her hair and pouted. “Why did you choose to study here at St Andrews?” she said. I told her the reasons why we had to leave Paris to come and settle in Wick—that my grandmother was blind and that we had decided to take care of her. “What about you?” I asked between bites of carrot cake. “Finland is far away.” “I have always wanted to visit Scotland and St Andrews immediately accepted my application so...” I suddenly had a strange feeling that I was being watched. I looked up and saw a girl sitting at the table directly across from ours. She was staring at me. I vaguely remembered her from the induction week. She got up and approached us. “Scarlett, isn’t it?” she asked in an Australian accent, without greeting us. “Yes, that’s it.” I was surprised that she knew my first name. She ignored my friend. Tarja looked down at her fruit pie and ate in silence. “I wanted to tell you... If you need a helping hand with your classes, don’t hesitate to call, I’ll give you my mobile number.” She searched her bag for a pencil and a piece of paper which she scribbled on before handing it to me. “Okay,” I replied. “So, see you soon, maybe?” I nodded half-heartedly as the Australian finally lowered her head to Tarja, her face expressionless, before walking away towards the exit. I didn’t like this girl. I stuffed the paper into the back pocket of my jeans, not even looking at what was written on it. “Shall we go?” proposed Tarja. I nodded, telling myself that there was something strange about the Australian.