AllFreeNovel
Share Us
That’s not quite true is it? A dark whisper spilled through my mind, tightening my smile until it was harder to maintain. I took a long drink of coffee just for something to do, and thankfully a tall girl a couple years older than us jogged down the path towards us, her body clad in a heavy woollen skirt perfect for this dreary weather—even though it had finally stopped raining, wonders will never cease—and a purple tartan jacket. Her cornsilk hair was pulled into a tight bun that spoke of strictness, but was streaked with a single line of baby pink rebellion. She pushed up wire-frame glasses and gave us all a big smile, meeting each of our eyes.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, her voice strong and clear like a bell. “I’m Erika, your guide for orientation. Can I ask everyone, give me your names one by one, and I’ll check we’ve got everyone we’re waiting for. Then I’ll show you around Ford and get your schedule and ID cards.”
A weight fell off my shoulders and I inhaled a longer breath. It was good to know what to expect, and even better that Erika seemed genuinely friendly. I’d been so scared to make a bad impression on a professor, and knowing my luck it’d be the strictest one.
Byron bumped his shoulder into mine, his eyes soft. “Breathe, Cat.”
“I am breathing,” I muttered. Now, at least.
“He’s here, he’s here,” Honey whispered suddenly, turning to us with massive baby blue eyes, a grin dimpling her cheeks.
“Ooh,” Byron teased, “loverboy?”
“Not so loud!” Honey hissed.
I allowed a smirk even as I focused on listening for our names, nudging Byron when his was called.
Golden-haired loverboy of the broad shoulders turned out to be Alastor Carmichael, which earned a low laugh from Byron. The Carmichaels were rivals to his family’s company, Everett Corp, with decidedly different approaches to providing the market with insulin. Everett Corp saved lives by lowering the cost, since insulin was insanely marked up for no reason other than profit. Carmine was the company driving the price higher, presumably for fun.
“By,” Honey whispered, her azure eyes big and pleading. “Please don’t start shit with him.”
“Me?” Byron flattened a hand to his chest. “Start shit? I have never once—”
“Here!” I said emphatically when my name was called. My cheeks burned when more than one student turned to look at me. A dark-haired guy in a white T-shirt and jeans smirked. I held his gaze, my stomach a mess of nerves and panic, but I didn’t look away until he did. I knew what he thought, but it wasn’t that I was a total nerd brimming with excitement to start school. If I didn’t register my attendance, I would literally die. I rubbed my thumb over my ring and talked myself down from the ledge of panic.
I was fine. It was just scary because it was the first day and I was in the middle of nowhere, and it was a little weird how school began in November instead of September. But I was a bad bitch and a queen and this wouldn’t break me, like everything else hadn’t broken me.
“Here,” Honey said and held out her fist.
Bewildered but compliant, I fist-bumped her. “What’s that for?”
“You asked for some of my optimism. Fist bumps are part of the transference process.”
I snorted.
Erika raised her voice. “We’re missing Mason Lindgren. Does anyone know him?”
“Lindgren?” the model-esque dark-haired guy in the white T-shirt asked. I didn’t catch his first name, but his surname was pretty easy to remember—Ford. Like the university. The guy beside him, smaller, with chestnut hair instead of ink-dark, was also a Ford. Brother? Cousin? “As in, the Lindgrens of Munich?”
Erika shrugged with a carefree smile. “Not a clue. And you’ll find families and names don’t matter as much after a few months at Ford. Well, unless Mason turns up in the next minute, we’ll start without—”
“I’m here, I’m here,” a short, dumpy white guy in a windbreaker and jeans ran across the lawn. “Fuck, sorry I’m late, damn alarm didn’t—”
“You’re here now,” Erika cut in with a forgiving smile. “And my advice? Less swearing unless you’re in the student areas. If professors hear you, they’ll make an example of you, even outside classes.”
“Yay,” I whispered to Honey and Byron. “Another thing to worry about.”
Byron smirked, but Honey chewed her bottom lip.
“Question,” Loverboy, AKA Alastor Carmichael said, crossing his arms over his big chest as he drew Erika’s attention. “Is it true there’s no fresher’s week at Ford?”
“It is,” she confirmed. “There’s no letting you settle in gently here. Classes will start the day after tomorrow, so if you didn’t already bring your own books and supplies you’d better pick those up from the library or bookshop. But,” she said with a secretive smile, “I heard there’ll be a party tomorrow on Halloween. Pure rumour, of course.”
“Of course,” White T-Shirt Ford agreed with a matching smile. It made sense that a Ford would know everything that happened here, or he was the one hosting the party.
“You’re having a Halloween party? At Ford?” Mason, the latecomer, let out a low whistle. “That’s brave. Isn’t the school built on an old burial ground? I heard there was a pagan cult here before Ford was built.”
I rolled my eyes. Sure. People scoffed, but others exchanged shifty glances like they believed it.
