Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The fresh air greeted me with a cold slap on the cheeks. I sucked in my breath and hugged my arms to myself. The black blazer wasn't going to be enough to cut the wind. When I raised my eyes, I could see the tall snow-capped peaks of the mountains hovering protectively over the small town.

I startled myself. Had I actually forgotten that Donna lived in the mountains? If so, when? I mentally skimmed the last few weeks " packing my things, moving here against my will....lying in bed, sick and in unbearable pain, for as long as possible to put off this very day " and couldn't come up with an answer. Whatever it was, I was going to be very cold for a while.

I started walking down the block, feeling the muscles in my legs strain and react to the movement. The faster I walked, the easier it was to keep my mind off the low temperature. I also tried looking around at the neighbourhood " a quaint collection of Victorian-style houses in various colors. It kept me occupied for a minute or two, but not enough to totally get my mind off my internal temperature, which was slowly dropping. I hoped I wouldn't have to wait long for the bus to come.

I didn't. I barely made the end of the block before I heard a screeching metallic sound behind me. If I was going to any other school, this might have been a comforting thing. But not today.

I stopped in my tracks and waited for the bus to pull up beside me. Eyes glanced down at me from the windows. Without giving myself a million reasons to turn around and run in the other direction, I steeled my resolve and walked aboard.

“You're late,” the driver " an older man with a floppy hat and looking like he'd been driving about twenty years too long " snapped at me. “Next time that happens we're gone.”

I cringed and blushed hotly at the same time.

“Sorry.”

He shot me a frown and pointed his thumb toward the back of the bus, motioning me to sit down. I tucked a loose strand of black hair behind me ear and started shuffling down the aisle, trying to find a seat as quickly as possible without having to look at my audience. It wasn't entirely successful. I could see girls, scattered around, looking at me like the prep school fraud I was. The guys, on the other hand, stared in intrigue. Lust, even. I would have laughed out loud if I wasn't so nervous.

Don't bet on it, I said to them in my head. I'm a fraud. I'm not even supposed to be in this uniform right now.

I walked faster, barely looking for a seat at this point. Miraculously, I spotted one next to a girl with gorgeous dark skin.

“Can I sit here?” I practically whispered.

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

I sank into the seat with relief, breathing hard. I felt as if I'd run a marathon. My hands were sweating, and I rubbed them quickly on my plaid skirt to dry them off. The girl next to me seemed to think this was amusing, and she smirked at me.

“What's with you?” she asked. “You got social anxiety or something?”

I shook my head. “No, not exactly. I just....don't like being the center of attention, that's all.”

“Well, you're gonna be, with an outfit like that!” She narrowed her brown eyes at me. “Where do you go to school?”

“West Point.” Ugh. Even saying the name brought a bile taste to my mouth.

“Really?” The girl's eyes widened, but then she nodded and stared distantly out the window. “I've heard about that school.”

“What have you heard?”

“It’s some sort of special place. All hidden away in the mountains, really fancy and huge. Creepy-looking, too. They only let in certain kids.”

I gulped. “It's not a military academy, is it?”

“What?” She started laughing. “No!”

Well, that was a relief. I sagged thankfully in my seat. But something she’d said bothered me a little.

“What kind of kids do they let in?”

“Beats me. I don’t go there.” She shrugged. “You, I guess.”

“Oh. Right.”

Guess she had a point there. I was dressed in the school’s signature uniform, after all. Trouble was, I couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or a putdown.

“I didn’t want to go,” I said defensively. “My aunt registered me.”

“Why would she send you to West Point?”

“I don’t know.”

The girl eyed me in curiosity. But she didn’t ask me any more questions; she had probably gotten the impression that I didn’t want to discuss it in detail. I dropped my gaze from her face and stared out the window, letting my mind drift as the bus coasted past my aunt's block on the picturesque streets of Fort Collins. It was on the small side for a city " roughly one hundred and thirty-seven thousand people " but it was nice enough. The streets were clean, and dotted with various coloured houses amongst clusters of bushes and evergreen trees. Once we crossed the railroad, the residential area began to fade and we turned onto Laurel Street. Centennial High School was just ahead, nestled comfortably in a blanket of green.

“Alright!” the driver hollered, startling me. The bus pulled to a squealing stop. “Everyone off!”

“That's me,” the girl beside me said. “Nice talking to you.”

“You too.” I rose out of my seat to let her off, wishing I could go with her. “I’m Natalie Morrison.”

“Jessie Randall. Good luck with West Point, seriously.”

“Thanks,” I replied. I was seriously going to need it.

I watched as Jessie worked around me and caught up to one of her friends, talking and laughing. The other students followed suit. Within minutes I was the only one left on the bus. Silence enveloped me like a glove; I felt about six inches tall. The bus driver's annoyed expression only added to my discomfort. With a grunt, he reached over and slammed the door. The tires then crunched against gravel once again, taking me away.

I had no idea what to do. I was all alone. If I at least had some information on this new school, I could visualize it beforehand, get myself mentally ready....but Jessie's description hadn't told me much of anything. I could feel the unknown creeping up on me like a silent predator. My heart sped up uncontrollably, and I hoped I wasn't having a panic attack. I leaned forward until my forehead touched the seat in front of me, and hyperventilated for several minutes.

It worked for a while. When my heart began to slow back down into the double digits per minute, I raised my head and glanced out the window. My eyes widened in genuine surprise.

When had the scenery changed? This didn't look like Fort Collins. We were driving down a two-lane highway with no traffic approaching. The road wound through trees " blankets of trees that occupied the majority of my focus. I'd never seen so much deep greenery all at once. The towering mountain peaks lay tucked behind, capped in snow. I took a long breath and noticed the smell of fresh pine, the crisp bite of the clean air. I was really nervous now.

“Excuse me?” I called out to the driver. “How far are we going?”

“West Point Prep.”

“It's all the way out here?”

He grunted a response I couldn't hear. I assumed he meant yes " Jessie had said the school was secluded, after all. But when I looked around, I couldn't see any sign of a school, or an entranceway. Even if there was one, I wasn't sure what my reaction would be when I saw it. Would it be expectation? Relief? Surprise? Dread?

I wasn't sure I wanted to know at all.

I decided to stop looking out the window for my destination, and stared at the aisle beside me. For now, the unknown was a protection. But sometimes things expected have a habit of occurring right when you look away, and coincidentally, I felt the rumble of the bus tires begin to slow to a crawl. We wound through a tree-woven path, and into an open clearing with a building beyond.

“Last stop.” The driver eyed me in the mirror. “You getting off or what?”

“Uh....”

Don’t look at the building, I admonished myself silently. Don’t look at it. Otherwise, I would never actually get off this bus. I grabbed my bag and squeezed hesitantly through the long aisle, down the stairs. The driver furrowed his thick eyebrows at me.

“Next run is at four o'clock. Sharp. I don't wait for stragglers.” He pointed a finger. “Don't be late if you wanna get home.”

“I won't.”

“Have a nice day.”

The door slammed roughly in my face, emphasizing the sarcasm of the driver’s words. I couldn’t blame him. Though he clearly disliked me, we had something in common. This wasn’t going to be a nice day for either one of us. As the bus pulled away, dust and gravel sprayed a light mist in my hair.

Great. I pulled the elastic band out of my hair and clawed at the strands in frustration, wishing I had a mirror. When I felt that I had doctored most of the contaminants out of it, I let it all hang loosely down my back and turned around to face my future. But I wasn't at all prepared for what I saw.

My jaw dropped in horror.

I was standing in front of a castle. Or, at the very least, an extremely good replica of one. A huge Gothic-style structure stood a hundred feet ahead of me, its turrets reaching to the heavens and threatening to prick the clouds with its sharply edged rooftops. Had I been standing any closer, they probably could have pricked my eyes. At the base of the monstrosity lay a sprawling cement staircase flanked by cast-iron railings, ending at the top with two heavy wooden double doors. Each door contained a brass knocker, giving it a medieval feel. Above the doors lay a plaque, made of solid gold, with a fancy English script similar to the one on my uniform. It said:

WEST POINT ACADEMY

SCHOOL FOR THE GIFTED

The Gifted?

I frowned in curiosity. But the ominous sign was the least of my threats. Two gigantic stone gargoyles flanked each side of the staircase. I had never seen anything like them. They looked half devil and half dragon, hunched over as if in pain but staring at me with an ugly ferocity. Above them, smaller versions of the same animal hung on the windows and turrets, screaming down at me. Their wings fanned upward and down at sharp angles, guarding their castle. Inviting nothing inside.

The bus was gone. I had nowhere to go. It was too cold to walk anywhere, and even if I could, it would take forever. The only refuge was inside this place. This sharp-edged, monstrous, horrific, gargoyle-infested chamber of death.

How was I going to do this?

I took a deep breath. One foot in front of the other, Nat, I coached myself. With unsteady steps I willed my body forward, trying to point out to myself the impressive features of West Point. The lawns were immaculately tended, dotted with shrubs. A large circular fountain sprayed water in the shape of a funnel. When the cold winter winds came and the water froze, it would make a gorgeous skating rink. I breathed in the fresh mountain air and let it calm my racing heart as I walked up the steps.

The stone demons did not attack me. As I’d expected them to do. Still, I held my breath and walked inside the building with an air of caution. But it wasn’t long before the rest of my breath involuntarily escaped out of my chest.

The entrance was extravagant. Mahogany wood paneling covered every inch of the school's interior, from the floor to the high vaulted ceilings. The corners contained leafy, decorative patterns that looked hand-carved. Renaissance artwork hung on the walls. Crystal chandeliers sprinkled flakes of light onto my shoulders. When I looked down, I noticed the rich wine-coloured carpet beneath my shoes; it stretched all the way down the main corridor and up a large staircase to my left. Behind the staircase lay an old organ. I wasn't sure what it was for; it was doubtful that it served a purpose other than adding to the museum-like atmosphere of this place. Which was exactly how it all felt to me.

Was this actually a school? I wondered. I was all alone in the entranceway. A tall grandfather clock chimed the hour, but that was the only sound I heard. Echoes of complete silence permeated the air in between each chime. No matter how hard I strained my ears, I couldn't hear any talking or movement.

“This isn't right,” I whispered to myself, checking my watch. Classes shouldn't have started yet. If they had, that must have meant the bus driver had gotten me here late. Meaning I would have to enter a room full of uniform-clad clones all by myself.

What had I just walked into?

Before I chickened out and ran for my life into nowhere, footsteps from the second floor caught my attention. I glanced up at the staircase as people started to file down, and then looked down the corridor. Doorways that I couldn’t see suddenly emptied of students, and teachers in crisp suits. I suddenly felt a sense of relief wash over me. At least there was life in this dungeon. But I had to admit...after what Jessie Randall had told me about the people here, it wasn't exactly comforting.

Three girls in a clique-looking formation would be the first to prove that theory. I couldn't help but glance their way as they sauntered down the stairs. A blonde, brunette, and redhead carried themselves side by side with chins held high, uniforms pressed, graceful as queens. They made no attempt to break their formation for students wanting to walk around them. The blonde was busy putting on lip gloss, her purse slung over her shoulder. Her hair hung long and straight down her back. The brunette's hair had a slight wave to it; she scanned the heads of her peers as if marking a target. The redhead's hair was short and styled in a bob. She wore no visible expression at first, but then I noticed her offer the subtlest of glances to the other girls. Without hesitation they all laughed hysterically.

I frowned. Strange. They hadn't spoken a word to each other. Must have been an inside joke or something. I had a feeling that was an underlying theme of West Point Prep. I deliberately sank against the wall as they walked by me, keeping myself out of their radar. I could feel a sinking sensation of despair in my stomach as I realized how truly lost I was.

Don't panic now, I thought. You just got here. At least I could wait awhile until there really was something to worry about. I turned and headed toward the reception desk, located on the right side of the entranceway and tucked into a back corner beside a stained-glass window. One secretary sat poised behind her computer, glasses on the bridge of her nose. Her graying brown hair was pulled back into a perfect bun.

“Um....excuse me?” I asked, practically in a whisper. I felt like a little kid on the first day of elementary. “Am I late?”

She glanced up at me sharply. “Natalie Morrison?”

“Yes.”

How did she know my name?

“You’re on time. Ethics Earlybird just ended.” She typed furiously on the keyboard and printed off a single sheet of paper, then handed it to me across the counter. “Here’s your schedule. You’re in English with Mr. Hollum, Room Six Twelve.”

“Oh…okay.”

I took the paper meekly and waited, but she had nothing else to say to me. After a moment, I turned and headed in the opposite direction slightly dazed. The sound of quickened typing trailed behind me.

Boy, they sure did things fast around here! I hadn’t been at the receptionist’s desk longer than a minute. If all my classes were like this, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to keep up. At least I didn’t have an earlybird class to attend…although when I’d glanced up, it seemed like a lot of the other kids did. Ethics? Was that what she’d called it? What was that exactly, some specialty requirement?

Whatever. I decided to forget about it.

My first class, English, took me up the fancy staircase I'd seen when I walked in. The crowd had started to thin. I made my way toward the stairs, my schedule clutched in my hand like a lifeline. My other hand grazed the pattern of the elaborate banister as I walked. I marvelled at the intricacy, the design of it. It looked like something straight out of English literature, not the kind of banister you could slide down easily. That kind of thing was strictly reserved for places that felt like home.

When I reached the top of the stairs, the hallway branched out in three different directions. A glass table with a vase of flowers stood in the middle; an antique armchair rested next to the window directly in front of me. I wondered which of the three routes to take.

I unfolded my schedule, which contained a map of the school inside.

“What do you think?” I asked the papers absently. There I stood, at the top of the stairs, trying to mentally plot my way to English. As I traced a route with my index finger, a deep male voice spoke over my shoulder.

“You'll want to head east,” he said. “Towards the science wing. It'll save you from having to go all the way around.”

Startled, I turned around. A very tall boy with short black hair and deep blue eyes stared down at me with a friendly look.

“Excuse me?” I asked him.

“You're in English, right?”

I nodded.

“Then that's where you'll want to go. Towards the science wing. Don't worry, this place is a lot less confusing than it looks sometimes.” He smiled again, revealing the angular cut of his jaw and the dimples in his cheeks. “It’s hard being the new person. Are you a Level Two?”

The question came at me so unexpectedly, I had to stop everything and replay it in my head. Someone was talking to me right now, someone very good-looking and friendly. He wasn’t with a group, so I could rightly assume this wasn’t a practical joke. But even so, I had no idea what he was talking about.

“Level Two?” I shook my head. “What's that?”

The guy froze. Suddenly the friendly look on his face vanished. He tightened his jaw severely, as if he'd just been caught committing a felony.

“I...I'm sorry. I thought....you were....” His pupils twitched slightly, and then he blinked furiously. Hiding it. “Excuse me. I've got to go.”

He swept around me with force, almost knocking me over. I righted myself as quickly as possible and stared in complete disbelief as he practically ran down the hallway.

What just happened?