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“I guess so,” I say.
He grins and I see multiple rows of brown, pointed teeth. I tighten my jaw and stare at him in silence.
“Your stay here will be most unusual. We rarely get a student who has any human blood and most of our students have never even been to the human realm.” He stares at me as if waiting for me to respond.
“Okay,” I say, breaking the awkward silence.
He presses his lips into a line. I don’t think that was the answer he wanted. After a huge sigh, he picks up an envelope on his desk and slides it toward me. “This is your class schedule and your room key. You are forbidden to leave the school until you graduate or die. Whichever comes first.”
Numbly, I take hold of the envelope. I’d heard it before. The threats of death just from being here. But hearing it from the dude who runs the place makes it seem so much worse. I want to ask but at this point, I’m thinking that saying anything to make me look dumb probably isn’t a great idea. “I heard there was a third way out.”
“Ah, the pass,” he says. “I wouldn’t worry about that, dear.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“You’ll never win,” he says matter-of-factly. “Most of the faculty are already making bets on how long you’ll last.”
“What?” I demand.
“It’s typical,” he says. “When students are sent here rather than choosing to attend, we’ve noticed that they don’t often last long.”
He leans across the desk. “I’m betting you’ll make it four weeks so do try to stay alive for a little while.”
My lips part and I look at him with my brows raised. This can’t be happening.What kind of school is this place?
“Agnes,” Dean Wilcox calls. “Do we have anyone to give a tour?”
I hear the door open and turn to see two silhouettes of people standing in the doorway.
“Remember is here to volunteer as tour guide,” an older woman says.
One of the figures moves toward me. “I’m happy to show the new student around, Dean Wilcox.”
“Thank you, Remember,” he says. “Go along, Harper.”
Relief seeps through me. I have no idea what the hell is going on but I’m thrilled to be leaving Dean Wilcox’s office.
Light filters in from the hallway and I walk toward it gratefully. A woman about my age is standing in the hall waiting for me. She must be the student who is going to show me around.
“You’re Harper Love?” she asks.
“Yes,” I say, extending my hand to shake hers.
Her upper lip curls as she looks down at my outstretched hand. Her eyes flick back up to me. “I’m Remember Williams. Everyone calls me Em.”
“Nice to meet you, Em.” I drop my hand. Apparently shaking hands isn’t a thing here.
Em’s brown eyes seem to study me. She appears to be taking in my white jumpsuit and bare feet. I have to admit, I look completely out of place when compared to her. Her light brown hair is swept up into a neat high ponytail and her makeup is impeccable. Just enough to highlight her natural beauty. With her cheekbones, doe-like eyes and long lashes, she’s got a face that most women would kill for.
Her outfit, though, is another story. She’s wearing a black pleated skirt and a white button up shirt with a black tie. Like she’s on her way to teach Sunday school. It’s tragic.
And something tells me I’m going to have to wear the same thing. Ugh.
“So, how’d you end up here?” Em asks as she starts walking down the hall.
I follow her. “Um, apparently my mom owes someone something but she’s dead.”
“Oh,” she says. “Not here by choice, then?”
