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“No, Headmistress—please!” Nancy gasped, going pale. “My mother would be so upset!”
“Very well. If you wish to stay, you will apologize to our new student at once,” Headmistress Nightworthy ordered peremptorily, pointing at me.
Nancy turned to face me, her face set in sullen lines of dislike.
“Sorry,” she muttered, giving me an unfriendly glare.
It wasn’t exactly a heart-felt apology but at that moment, I didn’t really care. I just wanted to leave the lunchroom—and this whole damn weird school for that matter—and never come back.
The Headmistress seemed to agree with my assessment of Nancy’s apology because her frown intensified.
“Very well,” she snapped at the leader of the Weird Sisters. “And now you may pick up the lunch you deliberately spilled, take it back to your table, and eat it.”
“What?” Nancy looked up at her, aghast. Clearly this was going too far. “But…it’s been on the floor,” she protested, getting a revolted look on her not-quite-pretty face.
“I cannot see how that makes a bit of difference,” Headmistress Nightworthy snapped. “If your tastes are as low as your manners, it shouldn’t bother you at all. Now go!”
She pointed at the fish lying in a sodden mass on the flagstones and the salad, which had spread over the gray stones in a colorful confetti of greens.
Nancy looked up at her, hate blazing in her eyes.
“You can’t do this to me,” she said in a low voice. “My mother is the Head Witch of the Windermere Coven! She won’t like it if she hears you treated me this way.”
“As a Nocturne myself, I have no interest in what the Sisters do—not even the head of a coven,” the Headmistress remarked. “But I daresay your mother might have an interest in your deplorable manners here today. Now pick up the food and eat!”
Her last words were delivered in a low, intense tone that crackled with authority. Her voice made the short hairs on my neck stand up, as though I had walked into an area that had just been struck by lightning.
Nancy glared at her angrily for a moment but then she dropped to her knees and began gathering up my spilled lunch, not saying another word. Her friends stood behind her, obviously unsure of what to do, so they just stared as she continued working, her too-large lips compressed into an angry black line.
The Headmistress stepped around them, neatly avoiding the mess on the floor, and came to stand in front of me.
“Miss Latimer, I’m sorry I was out of my office when you came to be registered today,” she said formally, offering her hand. “Welcome to Nocturne Academy—we expect great things of you.”
“Um…thank you,” I somehow managed to get out, taking her hand. It was cool and firm in my own—not at all frail and wrinkled, like my own Grandmother’s hand had been when she’d gotten to be this age.
But what age was the Headmistress? I had thought from her silver hair that she must be at least eighty but her face was surprisingly smooth and there were only a few wrinkles around the corners of her mouth and eyes.
“Please, have a seat anywhere you like and I will have one of our Dining Hall staff bring you a replacement lunch,” she said.
“Oh, no—that’s all right,” I said quickly. “I, um, I mean, I’m not really hungry.”
“Of course you are,” she said smoothly. “Growing Others are always hungry. “Have a seat now and I’ll send you that lunch. Please accept my regrets for this little…scene.” She waved one long white hand elegantly, indicating Nancy still kneeling on the floor picking up fish and salad and her friends standing by watching while everyone else in the lunchroom sat in silence. “I assure you, it is not the norm,” she went on.
“Oh, uh—thank you.” I felt tongue-tied around her—glad that her ire hadn’t been directed at me, but still anxious to get away. She seemed unpredictable, like she might do anything at all, at any time. I could also feel the weight of the entire student body’s attention centering on me as we stood there. Drakes, Faes, Sisters, and Nocturnes were all staring at me and their eyes—especially the eyes of the Sisters—were deeply unfriendly.
“Have a seat,” the Headmistress said again and glided away towards the opening to the lunch line.
I turned numbly and scanned the four long tables with eyes that weren’t really seeing anything at all. I didn’t want lunch anymore—I didn’t want anything but to escape.
If I could just get out of here I’d call Aunt Dellie and beg her to come get me right away. Then I’d enroll at another school tomorrow—any other school. Even grim and grimy Frostproof High had to be better than Nocturne Academy. If I could just—
“Hey,” a voice called. “Hey, newbie, over here!”
10
The voice jerked me out of my miserable fantasy of running away from Nocturne Academy and I turned to see an ordinary-looking girl with long, light brown hair waving at me. Sitting across from her was another girl who looked like she might be African-American or maybe mixed. She had lovely, creamy light brown skin—what I could see of it—and long, silky black hair which mostly hid her face from view.
