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My spine goes rigid as I press myself against the wall, hoping to remain invisible to Tally and whoever she’s with.
“I’m not holding my breath. She was… difficult to say the least.”
“If anyone can reach her, it’s you.”
“I’m not so sure. Abi might have more of a chance.”
The girls emerge and cut a line toward the main buildings, oblivious to me sandwiched between the wall and a huge tree.
Anger bubbles inside me as I catch the tail end of their conversation.
Their conversation about me.
“She doesn’t belong somewhere like All Hallows’.”
“Tally, I’m not sure…”
Their voices drown out against an icy gust of wind.
But I heard enough.
Tallulah-up-herself Darlington is exactly the judgemental, stuck-up bitch I assumed her to be, and part of me wishes I was in my dorm room to witness her confusion when she realises I’m not there.
With a smug smirk, I double back toward the buildings and make a beeline for the student centre. My appointment with Miss Linley isn’t until eight forty-five but maybe I can find somewhere quiet to hang.
The Darlington Centre for Student Welfare is clearly new. Pristine doors welcome me as I slip inside, the smell of fresh paint permeating the air. There’s an unmanned reception desk and a long hallway off to the side.
Unsure of where I need to go, I take one of the seats in a small cluster around a low coffee table and pull out my sketch pad and a pencil. It’s about one of the only personal effects I brought with me. Years worth of sketches and doodles scratched into the pages.
I’ve always loved to draw. To lose myself in the sound of lead against paper. I don’t overthink it, I let my muscle memory lead as I flip it open to a new page and start drawing.
I don’t have raw talent. My art doesn’t end in a masterpiece. But it’s a part of me. And I take some measure of peace in it.
I’m so lost in the process, that I don’t hear anyone arrive until I sense someone looming over me. My eyes flick up, connecting with a petite redhead.
“Hello,” she says softly.
“Hey.” I dismiss her, going back to my sketch.
“I’m Abi. You must be Raine.”
Is everyone so goddamn persistent here?
My mouth twitches.
“You got me.”
“You’re very talented,” she adds, leaning over me to get a better look.
With an irritated sigh, I snap my sketchbook closed and twist around to face the girl but before I can get out some snide reply, she says, “You’re here to meet with Miss Linley?
“Did they put out an announcement or something?”
“Sorry, what?” Her brows crinkle.
“Well, everyone seems to know my business.”
“Oh, sorry.” A small, uncertain smile lifts her mouth. “I volunteer here, and I have therapy with Miss Linley too.”
