Page 27 of A Dusk Of Stars

It finally hits me, what I’m forgetting. I have my first special class with Bane today.

I have to fight the urge to get back in bed and pull the covers over my head until there’s only darkness and silence around me. Instead, I let out a dragged-out groan and force myself to keep getting ready.

***

By the time I start down the hallway leading from the Entrance Hall to B13, I have a plan and I’m feeling pretty good about it.

Sure, I can’t exactly call myself lucky for having been assigned to that man. But it’s still true — what I said to Carrel and Nolan. None of us really know him. Gods know how long this is going to last — there’s a part of me that’s still waiting for someone to come and tell me it was all a mistake.

It could happen any moment now.

Until then, all I need to do isnotrepeat the mistake from the Opening Ceremony — letting him get to me.

Should be a piece of cake, considering the reason he managed to do it in the first place is the fact I was so messed up that day.

It’s a new day and, well, I’m feeling onlyslightlymessed up right now.

So it’s with determination in my step that I keep walking to my first special class.

I reach the intersection opening onto the Gerhardt Yard — the one the students call the Junkyard because of all the Academy misfits gathering there with all their contraband. It makes meslow down, when I feel eyes on me just as I’m about to pass the entrance.

I come a little closer and take a peek. The Junkyard is a large stretch of patchy grass surrounded by a crumbling stone arcade looking out onto the hallways. There’s a giant maple shooting out of the center and alcoves with lichen-covered tables lining the borders.

Still feeling watched, I let my eyes sweep over the space and the students hanging around. I drag them from the tree to one of the alcoves across from me, then up the table nestled inside, then all the way to the graffitied gargoyle perched at the top of the arch, finding a pair of eyes blinking at me.

Raven, sitting in a lotus position on top of the gargoyle, an open book in her lap.

My lips curling into a smile, I lift my hand to wave. As soon as I do, she abruptly shifts, takes flight as this delicate little black bird, grabs the falling book in her beak and disappears out of my line of sight.

I just keep standing there for a second. What an odd little cutie.

I shake my head and take the right at the intersection, for a couple of minutes walking down the mostly empty hallway until I finally find the classroom. I open the door and walk inside, frowning when I see what kind of space they’ve picked for this.

It’s just a regular classroom. I mean, it’s showing more than the usual wear-and-tear, but it’s not that which bothers me. It’s the fact that it’s both small and so crammed with desks and shelves that there’s barely any room for standing, let alone doing any training.

Doesn’t matter, I tell myself. I have my plan and I’m sticking to it. I choose the front-row desk facing the solitary professor’s, placed in front of the blackboard. I take a seat, glancing at my watch to see it’s 09:59.

Then my ears prick up and I hear these confident footsteps drawing near. The sound makes me sit straight and fix my eyes on the door.

At exactly 10:00, I see the knob turn, making all my determination crumble and nervousness flood my entire system.

***

The very next second, I’m watching him walk in and close the door behind him. I feel the presence inside me stir, but I shove it down, along with all my nervousness. Just remember the plan, Anna.

I get up. “Morning—”

“Cooperate,” he mercilessly cuts me off, making my eyebrows pull down as I watch him walk up to the professor’s desk, lean on its edge and brace his hands at his sides, only then locking eyes with me. “And you won’t be needing more than this one class. Understood?”

I just keep looking at him, my confusion growing the longer I do. It’s not the rudeness that’s throwing me off. It’s how formal he’s being, his tone cold and his face devoid of any expression.

“Understood?” he repeats himself, a touch of impatience in his voice.

It takes me a moment to shrug my confusion off. “I’m sorry,oneclass?” I ask with a mix of surprise and suspicion.

“It’s because you can’t shift that you’re in need of special classes, right?”

“Right,” I grumble.

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