Page 98 of Fractured Fates
“You’re not really going? I bought you pizza. I bought you all those drinks the other night.”
“Well, thank you for that but, yes, I’m going.”
I stand up, squaring up to him. I don’t care what the rules say, if he tries anything more, I’ll blast him with everything I have.
“I can buy you other things too. A decent pair of shoes.” He points at my worn pair of sneakers. “Clothes that actually fit you.”
Seriously?
“You’re such a jerk!” I say, dodging around him and racing towards the door before he tries to stop me.
“And the best offer you’re going to get!” he yells after me as I jog down the hallway and out into the night.
It’s late but the campus isn’t sleeping. It’s a Saturday night after all. I can hear hoots of laughter, shouting and music. People elsewhere having a much better time than me. The air nips at my skin and I shrug on my jacket and, with my head down, walk back to my dorm.
Both Winnie and Pip are snoring when I creep into our room, and start to strip off my clothes but Winnie stirs, rolling over and yawning.
“Hey Rhi,” she whispers. “How was the rest of your evening? Did you complete the entire game?”
I manage a limp smile in the darkness. “Not quite.”
Winnie yawns again. “Oh, there was a parcel waiting for you outside our room when I arrived. It’s on your desk.”
“A parcel? Where did that come from?”
“Special delivery. You must have a secret admirer.”
“I very much doubt that.” I snap on my desk lamp and examine the square parcel wrapped in brown paper. My name is printed in a scrawled hand across the top, followed by my dorm number and the academy’s details. I turn the parcel over in my hands. There’s no return address and the postage stamp is blurred.
“I don’t know who this could be from.”
“Maybe the Council?” Winnie suggests, folding her pillow under her head.
I shrug and tear back the brown tape and the cardboard flaps. Inside the box is full of shredded plain white paper and, a tad hesitantly, I plunge my hands inside and pull out something wrapped in layers of cellophane.
“What is it?” Winnie asks.
I prod it a bit. “No idea.”
“Is there a note?”
I plunge my hand back inside but I can’t find anything more.
“I don’t like it,” I say with unease.
“It won’t be anything bad,” Winnie reassures me. “The postage service check for hexes and jinxes and that kind of thing.”
“You’re not making me feel any better.” It hadn’t even occurred to me that this thing could be cursed.
“Just open it,” Winnie yawns. “Then we can both go to sleep.”
I nod and gingerly peel open the cellophane. Immediately, I’m hit by the smell of something rotten. So pungent, it makes my eyes water and I drop the object, stepping away automatically.
“Ewww, that is revolting,” Winnie screeches, bolting upright in bed and waving her hand in front of her face. The smell wakes Pip too; he begins to grunt angrily. “What the hell is it?”
“I’m not sure I want to know,” I say, but my curiosity gets the better of me and, pinching my nose and trying not to breathe, I venture closer, stripping away more of the cellophane. It makes the smell worse and Pip races around the room, squealing, as tears roll down my face.
I examine the object.
