Page 3 of Hallowed Bones

I’m almost afraid to like them in this meeting. Things are always different at boarding schools once the parents leave. I’d learned that well enough. Still, a small bloom of hope swells up in my chest, and I have to tamp it down.

“Wonderful,” Amelie says as her brother writes something down on the papers in front of him. “Then shall we start with a tour?” She stands, and as she does, so does Aunt Trisha.

“Actually, I have to get back,” she announces quickly, causing me to stiffen.

Despite how very little we’ve gotten along these past few months, a pang of hurt slices me deeply. I know she’s not super comfortable being in charge of a ward, and yet somehow, the reminder that she’ll be leaving me here—alone—turns me into a little girl again, clinging to someone’s legs in the hopes that they’ll stay with her. I shake my head and stifle the urge. I’m on my own now. No parents and certainly no family beyond this woman. She has a life, and she never asked to be stuck with a niece she hardly knows.

I release my breath in slow increments, warding off the oncoming anxiety attack. I can do this, I tell myself. I’ve done it before and I will do it again. Starting over isn’t the end; it’s the beginning. No matter how much I say the words in my own head, they come across sounding as hollow as I feel, as if there’s nothing more than straw filling up my head.

Francis looks up at my aunt with barely repressed irritation, his lips tightening into a frown. Truly odd. Aunt Trisha ignores the man and instead turns her attention to Amelie.

“I’ve had some of her belongings sent ahead,” she states. “The rest of her luggage should be delivered in the next day or two; if not, you may call the shipping company we used. It’s—”

“Her things have arrived,” Amelie states, interrupting her with a tight smile.

My aunt mimics the expression, flashing me an annoyed look that’s all I need to know to stand with her. The chair scoots back, scraping the dark hardwood floor with a noise that’s too loud for my ears. I flinch but quickly overcome it as my aunt turns toward the door.

“See me out, Haven.” She doesn’t need to voice the command; I’m already on my way.

I can feel the burning stares of both the dean and vice dean on my back as I follow my aunt out of the office and back to the foyer of the school’s front building. When the doors open and we step outside, a rushing wind slaps me in the face. The trees that line the long driveway disappear from view, making it feel as though there’s no real end to the road ahead.

“Make this work, Haven,” Aunt Trisha snaps as she stomps down the front steps, her keys already in her hand. “You barely graduated from that ridiculously overpriced school. You’re no longer a child; if you get kicked out of college, then there’s nowhere else for you to go. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I didn’t do anything to get kicked out before.” I say the words by rote. I’ve repeated them so much that they make me feel like a broken record.

There’s no point anymore, yet I can’t stop myself from making the claim. It’s true, after all. None of those odd accusations from other students and teachers had happened, or at least I didn’t think I’d been responsible for them. The three high schools I’d attended following my eighteenth birthday in my senior year had each been worse than the last. Not so because of the students or teachers themselves but because of the oddities that had occurred.

I’d been new and easy to blame, though. I’d never had a hand in anything—not the sudden rat infestation or the burned-out, brand-new lights or anything else. That’s what I tell myself—hiding the secret worry that I’m the one that’s always been the problem.

Hopefully, Ipswich College will be different.

I stop on the bottom step and turn back, peering at the Gothic architecture of the building with a strange sort of yearning in my heart. To some, it might seem dilapidated and old and worn, but to me, it represents a chance. Freedom.

My aunt’s scoff has me turning back around to face her as she hits a button on her key fob and the headlights of her convertible flash, the doors unlocking automatically. “I mean it,” she says, pointing at me with one long fingernail. “No more. I can’t take it. I’ve got a life to live too, you know. I don’t need to be carting around a teenager everywhere I go.” She curses as a rock gets stuck in the bottom of her heel and kicks it free, looking less put together than I’ve ever seen her before.

Damn. The dean’s disinterest really threw her off her game.

“I’ll try my best,” I tell her honestly. I always try my best. Is it my fault when it’s never enough?

“See that you do,” she gripes, shoving her heel into the gravel beneath her feet one final time.

There’s no emotional farewell. No hugs or kisses. No care or real affection. Honestly, I’d even take an awkward handshake at this point. Not that I expect her to offer one. She never has.

My heart grows cold as she walks over to her car, pops open the driver’s-side door, and slips inside, cranking the engine. Her kohl-lined eyes lift to meet mine through the windshield, but there’s no expression change, no second-guessing if she’s doing the right thing leaving me here or not.

I lift a hand simply because I feel like I have to. It’s not reciprocated as she puts the convertible in reverse and then kicks up gravel as the tires spin while she curves around the front of the school building, her red taillights growing dim in the distance.

Then I really am alone at Ipswich College.

CHAPTER 2HAVEN

There is a coldness in my veins.

A chill in my blood.

Sometimes all I think I am is ice.

They are my fire.