Page 74 of A Heart of Bluestone

And that means to pass the Snakes.

I didn’t count on them being out on the grounds today. But then, the snow started to stick the ground this past Thursday, and I decided that most of the students would be hanging around this weekend.

Snakes are among them.

Directly ahead, across the grounds that separate me on the stairs from the dotted, thin treeline before the ground dips into a hill—the Snakes form a pit.

Ok, well not actually a pit, they commandeer a crescent of stone pews, but whatever.

My eyes narrow on them.

Not a single one of them looks back at me.

It’s like I said. I would be a fucking idiot to let my guard down. I’m not reassured by their lack of glares, or that they each seem to be absorbed by things other than me.

Sat on a stone pew, Dray leans over to better see the playing cards splayed out over the flat boulder. On the other side, Landon is crouched in the snow, running his teeth over his bottom lip, deep in his blatant concentration.

I flicker my narrowed, cautious stare to the girls. Asta moulds snowballs in her fuzzy gloved hands, pressing them tighter and tighter, then weasels little stones into them. She does nothing with them but aim each solid ball at the trunks of the trees where they explode into puffs of white dust and gravel.

There’s an obvious mood to her this morning.

I don’t care to cross its path.

Serena has her back to me, but I recognise the sleek black sword that is her hair, falling down her back from the cinch of a ponytail, the same gloss of spilled ink as her form-fitting parka and snowpants. She must have been on the slopes earlier, not long back maybe.

Near the other pew, she stands with Mildred and, between them, passes the silver wink of a flask, not filled with water I suspect.

Then, finally, I lower my gaze to Oliver on the snow.

Sprawled on his back, his hat askew, and his face flushed, he brings the end of a joint to his lips and kisses it.

Teachers patrol the grounds. Security, too, sometimes groundskeepers. But the area spans so far, and there so many obstacles, like the treelines, the hills, the shrubs, the abandoned cabin, the maze of rubble, the gardens—so many obstacles, that my brother holds onto his born entitlement, and openly smokes the joint.

I hate that.

No respect in what he’s doing.

Almost like he’s just daring any of the faculty to do something about it. But, as I glance around the white grounds, the snowmen, the angel silhouettes packed into the snow, the first years giggling under the gazebo, I see not a single member of staff.

Not great for me.

Dray has every opportunity to return his focus to me. Any of the Snakes can take full advantage of this moment.

And, so, I hesitate.

Like I said, it takes me a while to build the courage.

A coward. One with a bite, like a cornered stray, but afraid all the same.

The thin soles of my ivory boots are soft on the stone steps. Sometime ago, they were swept clean of snow, but the ice is black and slippery.

I grip onto the railing, so I don’t lose my footing.

I take the last step, from slippery stone to crunching snow, and my boot slips out from under me.

My breath is a sword through me.

My arms hook around the railing—and hold, firm.

---