Page 122 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

“Hey.” I glance back at Juliet, but she’s already driving off. God, I hope my stuff gets to my room like she said. I don’t even have her number.

Cinderhart has everything you need.

“Romi,” the girl says. She holds out her hand, her smile brightening a little when I shake. Her mousy brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing…oh my God, is that the school uniform?

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

Chapter 10

Nim

A thick carpet soaks up the sounds of our footfalls. That, paired with the disturbing tapestries on the walls, make the long, gloomy hallways claustrophobic. The only window is the one right at the end of the hall—and that’s a long way off.

Then there are the portraits. I’m not sure how many we’ve passed already, but they’re starting to freak me out more than the tapestries.

“This is us,” Romi says, pointing at room 213.

It has an electronic panel for a keycard, slightly ruining the effect of the hall’s dark wood paneling.

“Oh, wow,” I murmur, when the door swings open. Honest to God, I was expecting two four-poster beds, a chamber pot, and a bronze tub in one corner.

Romi doesn’t comment, but I guess she’s had some time to get used to the opulence. She’s pretty—flawless skin, heavy-lidded brown eyes. But she doesn’t wear any makeup, which is weird. I guess she doesn’t need it, but all the girls I know wear at least a lick of mascara during the day.

“This is my side, that’s yours. The bathroom is through there. Please don’t leave wet towels on the floor.”

Cinderhart really has a flair for the dramatic. The room is bright and airy—absolutely no hint of the oppressively dark decor from the hallway. The carpet is a light gray, thick and foamy under my shoes, which I immediately take off and put beside Romi’s black mules just so I can sink my socks into it.

“Oh yeah, thanks,” Romi says. “I forgot about the shoes.”

Two double beds face off on either side of the room. Crisp white bedding and a few muted scatter cushions in pink, purple, and gray. There’s a thick fur throw placed just so on the bottom corner of each—one brown, one dove gray. Romi pointed to the brown one as hers, so I immediately head over to the gray one and run my hands over it.

Oh God, it’s so silky soft. I just want to wrap myself up in it.

“This is amazing,” I tell her.

Two large closets, two desks, two armchairs near the large bay windows responsible for filling this room with so much light. The lace curtains on the windows are decorative only—no drapes to draw. I guess that, like taking photos, sleeping in isn’t encouraged at the Academy.

“Your schedule is on your desk,” Romi tells me. “Do you want to see the rest of the campus?”

I lift a finger. “Yeah, just one sec,” I say and slip into our shared bathroom.

As soon as the door closes behind me, I clap a hand over my mouth and squeal. Then I turn to look at the bathroom and squeal again.No bronze tub in here either, but there is a claw-foot tub, a shower, and a toilet with a bidet.

I turn to look at myself in the mirror. I’ve been wearing much less makeup these days. It seems so pointless in the grander scheme of things, plus, I don’t have Mom telling me to give myskin some color because I look like a ghost.And then telling me to go spend some time outdoors.

My eyes mist, and I blink them back hurriedly. I wish I could have had just a little more time with my parents. Staring at my reflection, I swipe away a tear with my knuckle and push back my shoulders.

When my parents left Vicky’s house, I was low-key pissed off at them. If I’d known what would happen, I would never have let them leave. I try not to think about it…too many what-ifs.

That’s probably the main reason I’m here. I can’t take back what happened that night. But they had a plan for me. They wanted me to come to their school and follow in their footsteps. I don’t know how well I’ll stack up—they’re both geniuses in their own right—but I’m damn well going to try.

“I’m going to make you proud,” I whisper, my lips trembling when I force them into a smile. “You’ll see.”

“Let’s go through the courtyard,” Romi says. “I need some fresh air.”

I’m trying to keep track of all the twists and turns she takes as we work our way through the building. Thankfully, there are bronze plaques every so often, pointing out places like the cafeteria, the library, the dean’s office...and the courtyard.

“Have you been here long?” I ask her.

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