Page 4 of Sweet Nightmare

“Move, Clementine!” he shouts, throwing me into the stairwell in front of him.

We pound up the stairs and burst through the double doors at the top just as the warning bell rings.

CHAPTER THREE

ANOTHER ONE BITES

THE PIXIE DUST

“You have the power to defeat the monsters inside of you,” a soothing voice says over the intercom. The affirmation that doubles as the bell fills the hallway as Luis and I pause to catch our breaths.

“No offense to your aunt Claudia and her daily affirmations,” he gasps out, “but I don’t think it’s the monsters inside of us that we’ve got to be worried about.”

“No shit,” I agree, even as I fire off a text to Uncle Carter to let him know that he needs to double-check the locks on the monster enclosures.

My uncle Carter is in charge of the basement menagerie. Back in the day, Calder Academy Island started out as a sanatorium where rich paranormals would ship off family members to “convalesce.” But rumor has it that the basement was actually reserved for the criminally insane—which explains the giant, eighty-pound doors on each of the cells. Not great for humans, but the setup comes in handy when you need to keep creatures from wreaking total and complete havoc.

“Remind me again why your mother thinks it’s a good idea to board some of the most fucked-up monsters in existence?” Luis asks as he finishes tucking his red polo shirt into his black uniform shorts.

“Apparently, the school needs the money to ‘keep the students in the style to which they’ve become accustomed,’” I quote.

We take a moment to admire that supposed style before we’re forced to duck as a loose ceiling tile falls to the floor. After the sanatorium closed, it didn’t take much work to convert the ornate Victorian buildings into a luxury hotel for paranormals, which occupied the island until my family bought it eighty years ago.

The buildings themselves were commissioned back in the day when they built beautiful buildings for architecture’s sake, even if those buildings were part of a hospital. The remnants of that bygone era still peek through the years’ wear and tear. Like the carved marble staircases now worn with steps and age, the large arched turrets, the bay windows, or the intricate brickwork that adorns the entrance to the Admin Building, where we have most of our classes. But all of that potential charm has been overshadowed by the institutional green paint that has been slathered on every wall and the drop ceilings that are surely covering up some pretty cool moldings.

Luis snickers and shakes his head as my phone buzzes with a text from my roommate, Eva.

Eva: Where are you?

Eva: I can’t be late to anger management. Danson’s a dick

Eva: If he gives me shit again, I swear I’m going to totally throat punch him

I fire off a quick reply letting her know I’m on my way.

“You okay?” Luis checks as we walk quickly in an attempt to avoid getting yelled at by the hall trolls.

“Thanks to you, I am,” I answer, giving him a quick hug before I push the door open to the girls’ bathroom in the center of the hall. “Love you, Luis.”

He brushes off my moment of tenderness with a snarky, “You’d better,” just before the door closes behind me.

“Damn, Clementine. You’re supposed to feed the chricklers, not be their feed,” Eva tells me as she straightens from where she’s leaning against one of the old-fashioned bucket sinks.

I snap my fingers. “I knew I was doing something wrong.”

“I brought you coffee.” Her long, black curls bounce as she leans forward to hand me a turquoise-and-pink string backpack.

Joy floods me as I see the two go-cups of what I know is Eva’s famous café con leche, a recipe from her Puerto Rican family that includes just a pinch of a special spice blend. It’s practically legendary among the seniors. I reach out a greedy hand for it. “Give me.”

She nods to the backpack. “Time is ticking. Change first, coffee later.”

I groan, but I’m already ripping off my shirt and tossing it into the trash can. I pull out the fresh polo she’s brought me and—after a quick glance at the mirror—add the red hoodie she’s packed on top of it.

Even though it’s over a hundred degrees of pure humidity outside, it’s still better than walking around for the rest of the day looking like open season has just been declared on my ass. Even the smallest sign of weakness tends to bring out the predator in the other students. Despite the fact that every student’s powers are locked down, they still have fists—and teeth—and are more than happy to use them.

Thirty seconds later, I’ve got my face washed, my hair pulled into a ponytail, and a long sip of café con leche in my belly.

“You ready?” Eva asks, her concerned brown eyes doing a final sweep of me from head to toe.

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