Page 35 of The Bleak Beginning

If only it was as easy to get Prescott to leave Altair as it was for me to plan my next move with my rowing team.

My mind raced with a sudden thought as soon as I saw her bag still hanging on the pole. How much does she like water, I wonder?

Chapter 7

Alex

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

In the dim light of my room, my eyes slowly close as I start to drift off to sleep. The room is still and quiet. I was exhausted after helping Sutton with her project. Tomorrow was going to be rough trying to get up, but at least I didn’t have to see Sylvester and go over the history of this place. My plan to avoid him worked out perfectly, even if it did mean I hadn’t gotten back to my dorm until after two in the morning.

Drip. Drip.

Still half asleep, I brush the moisture away as the drips become heavier and more insistent.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The persistent droplets continue to fall, rousing me further from my slumber. With a groan, I force my eyes open, blinking away the vestiges of sleep.

A steady stream of water plops onto my face, explaining the damp state of my pillow and hair. Great.

Grumbling, I roll over, burying my face in another pillow. But the dripping continues, each drop seeming to echo louder in the quiet of my room.

“Blasted building,” I muttered, flipping on my back as I curse the wet spot above my bed. The slowdrip, drip, dripof water continues falling from my ceiling.

Suddenly, the droplets turn into a steady stream, as if a faucet had been turned on. Before I can fully comprehend what is happening, a huge burst of water comes crashing down from the ceiling, drenching me and my bed.

I jolt upright with a strangled cough, fully awake now. Sputtering and gasping, I flail in my now-soaked sheets, my heart racing as I tried to make sense of the chaos.

“What in the name of nightmares?” I wheeze, flailing in my bedding. I stumble out of bed, my clothes clinging to me like a second skin, as I fumble for the lamp on my bedside table. As the warm glow fills the room, I gape at the deluge pouring from the ceiling.

Water cascaded from a busted pipe above, turning my once-cozy bedroom into a miniature waterfall. “For the love of fairy dust,” I groan, not believing this just happened to me.

What are the actual odds?

Just then, a knock at my door nearly made me jump out of my skin. “Everything alright in there?” came a gruff female voice. “Heard a commotion.”

“Things are just grand,” I called back, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Nothing says good morning quite like an impromptu shower from the ceiling. Although is it considered morning if you never really slept?

I slosh my way to the door, leaving a trail of wet footprints in my wake. As I yank it open, I find myself face-to-face with a tall, thin girl with short, white-blonde hair.

“Holy shit!” she exclaims, her eyes widening at the sight of my drenched form and the waterlogged room behind me. “What happened here?”

“Oh, you know,” I say, gesturing vaguely at the ceiling, “just thought I’d bring a bit of Altair’s rain indoors. For ambiance.”

The girl’s lips twitch, clearly not impressed by my sarcasm, but didherroom decide to create its own indoor water park while she was trying to sleep?

Didn’t think so.

Her eyes dart from my soaked clothes to the puddles forming on the floor. She crosses her arms, tapping her foot. “Well, as much as I appreciate your dedication to interior design, you’ve got bigger problems.”

My mouth twists. Who was this chick, and why was she barking her opinions at me instead of offering to help clean up this mess?

“It’s my responsibility as your resident advisor…” I guess that answersthatquestion. “…to find you temporary housing.” I was sensing a but. “But,” she continues, confirming my suspicions, “all the rooms in this building are full.”

“Could I room with someone?” I ask, wringing out my soaked hair.

She mulls that over. “You got any friends?”

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