Page 13 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
I let out a slow breath and approach Professor Cruz as he rummages around his desk. His head lifts when I draw closer.
“Hello, Professor.” I smile timidly. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of me”—he probably hasn’t, knowing Margaux—“but I’m one of Margaux’s friends. I’m excited about your course, so I wanted to introduce myself—and to thank you for a wonderful first class!”
My nerves are showing. Can vampires smell fear? If I have the misfortune of seeing Margaux again, I’ll ask her.
“Ah, yes…” He wears a knowing smile, observing me for a moment. “You must betheTobey.”
I freeze. Margauxhastold him about me, but how much has she said? Does he know about our fight, and,more importantly, does he know I’m supposed to be a human?
I clutch my books tighter. “That’s right.”
“Margaux spoke a lot about you when she was young. You two were going to become famous playwrights together, were you not?”
I blush. “That was the dream, but…”
“It’s funny how dreams get lost along the way.”
The dream he mentions is nowhere near what I want to do now. Mr. Cruz may tie into my new dream. Not only do I want to unveil Poppy’s murderer, but if Strode is involved, I want to uncover it from the inside out.
The world of the supernatural is known but shrouded in mystery. I want to learn everything about him—about vampires—and share it with the world.
“And we find new ones,” I say, smiling.
“We do.” He chuckles. “I’m happy to finally meet your acquaintance, Tobey Underwood. Please let me know if you need to schedule a meeting. You’re a transfer student, and I want to make sure you stay caught up with coursework. Strode is a rigorous school; we uphold our students to a different standard.”
“I will take you up on that.”
Information on his course is onlyoneof the things I’m interested in. I want to push for more, but stop myself, already backing away.
“Thank you for all of your help,” I say.
“Enjoy the rest of your first day.”
Chapter Four
Amelia isn’t in my next two classes, thank God. The other students don’t bother me as I go about my day. That makes it easier to listen in on conversations, though the only thing I get from doing so is a few petty rumors about summer breakups.
It’s messy, but not useful.
I’m eager to go to my dorm and start fitting pieces together—if I can get anything done before I fall asleep. It’s been a long first day, and my social battery is drained.
I haven’t had time to worry about meeting my roommate, but it’s in the back of my mind as I navigate to my dormitory. A funny thought strikes me as I stand outside the door.
What if Amelia is my roommate? What are the chances? It would have to be slim. She said she’s a sophomore, and I don’t remember her name being on my paperwork.
I’m chuckling at the thought as I open the door. The sound fades as soon as I step in.
Not Amelia. Worse.
Margaux sits on a bed with one leg crossed over the other. The bed is already perfectly made and draped in her signature crimson sheets.
The room is larger than my last dormitory and covered with the same expensive furniture I’ve come to recognize around the school.
Through the stained-glass windows, a ray of rainbow light shines in. It would be a pretty room, but Margaux’s presence makes it jarring.
She’s set out her collection of creepy dolls and stuffed crows—items I know well. Margaux is the picture of grace, draped in a little black slip dress, with her hair perfectly in place. A mischievous smile spreads onto her face as she watches me, clearly pleased with herself. She thinks she won, and I’m happy to knock her down a peg or two.
“Do you need to make every room look like a deranged grandmother lives there?” I ask, peering over my shoulder. “I must be in the wrong room.”
