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I wanted to ask more about the picture—about what had happened to Kaitlyn and the doting parents in the picture—but Emma was already pointing to the battered wooden wardrobe beside the third bed.
“Your things are in there,” she said. “They’re pretty good about hanging everything up and folding whatever is foldable. One good thing about Nocturne Academy is that we don’t have to do our own laundry. You just put whatever is dirty into this chute…” She pulled open a drawer on the wall, revealing a large rectangular hole that led down into darkness. “And it falls down into the sub-basement where it gets laundered and brought automatically back to your own wardrobe.”
“That is nice,” I remarked admiringly. I had never been a fan of doing laundry, though I had gotten pretty decent at doing mine and Dad’s after mom died—before he shuffled me off to Aunt Dellie, that was.
The thought made me sad so I pushed it away and opened my wardrobe. Inside all my uniform skirts and blouses and my extra blazer were all hanging neatly from hangers on one side. The other side of the wardrobe was all drawers and I pulled one out to see a neat pile of fresh white underwear and bras. There were white knee socks too and, in another drawer, the white lacy nightgowns the receptionist had picked for me.
“I’m going to feel like something out of a Jane Austen novel, wearing this,” I said, picking out one of the nightgowns and shaking it out. I noticed with approval that the lace at the gown’s neck and wrists was soft, handmade-type fabric—not scratchy and artificial-feeling. “It’s really nice. But I don’t think I have a robe to go with it.”
“Are you sure?” Emma asked, frowning. “I thought a robe was standard issue for the Dungeon. Kaitlyn and I both got one. Look again.”
“I don’t think—” I began but then something caught my eye. Hiding behind the spare blazer at the very back of the wardrobe was something green and fuzzy.
“Oh look—a robe! And that color is going to look fabulous with your eyes,” Emma remarked approvingly. “Look and see if they sent you slippers too.”
Sure enough, beside an extra pair of the heavy black Mary Janes and my tennis shoes, I saw a pair of green fuzzy slippers that exactly matched my new robe.
“Perfect!” I exclaimed. I couldn’t help feeling excited. I loved the idea of getting into the clean white nightgown and warm, cuddly robe and having dinner by firelight with my new friends.
I wanted to get changed at once but felt suddenly shy, remembering the white line of scars marching up and down my forearms and thighs.
“Um…” I turned to Emma uncertainly. “Is there a bathroom where I can change?”
“Right through here.” She walked over to a wooden door on the end wall and threw it open.
Inside, I saw two rows of stalls—one row of three for showers and the other row of four for toilets—as well as a line of mirrors and sinks. At the far end was one huge claw-foot bathtub that looked almost deep enough to swim in.
“Oh!” I exclaimed, drawn to the tub despite my urgent desire to change and get dinner.
“Isn’t it great?” Emma asked, smiling. “Kaitlyn and I take turns for bath nights—she gets the odd days and I get the even days. I guess we can fit you into the schedule somewhere. Oh, and you can borrow my bubble bath if you want.”
“Thanks—it looks perfect. I love bubble baths.” I would have wanted one right then but suddenly my stomach growled and I felt faint. “Ugh—I need to get changed and eat,” I exclaimed, putting a hand to my midsection. “I’m so hungry I’m about to keel over!”
Emma laughed.
“I think second dinner should be almost ready. Remember, just dump your dirty stuff in the laundry chute on your way out of the bedroom. It’ll appear back in your wardrobe by tomorrow night.”
“Okay,” I said and frowned. “But…how will they know it’s mine? I mean, I don’t have my name or initials or anything written on the tags. I needed a laundry marker—so I could mark my name on my things, just the way my mom used to do before she sent me off for summer camp for two weeks every summer when I was a kid.
But Emma was shaking her head.
“Oh, don’t worry about that. Your things are magically marked—they’ll always come back to you, no matter where you leave them on the school grounds. Only if you want them to be clean when they come back, you need to send them down the laundry chute.”
“Sounds good to me.”
I thanked her and she smiled and closed the bathroom door, giving me privacy to change. I shrugged out of my uniform, leaving it in a heap on the floor since it was going to get washed anyway, and pulled on the soft white cotton nightgown. Sure enough, when I looked in the bank of mirrors, I felt like a Jane Austen heroine getting ready for bed. The soft lace of the gown came up to my throat, hiding the black key necklace and the sleeves came all the way down and covered the scars on my arms.
