Page 89 of Storm of Shadows
I close my eyes. I count to ten and then I follow her outside, trailing her all the way back to her room, ensuring she’s safe.
Chapter Forty
Briony
Like the other new students, I fall into a pattern. Up with the seven o’clock bell for breakfast, and ready to begin class at 8:30. I drag myself around assault courses and cross-country routes, sit through lessons learning subjects I’ll never make use of back in Slate Quarter, and try my best to disappear into the background – which is hard when everyone knows who I am, when they’re all whispering about me. At least none of them are actively trying to kill me right now. Odessa seems content with trashing my room and destroying my belongings – although if she knew she’d missed the one precious thing I own she’d probably have a mega temper tantrum.
The day ends at six and I eat dinner with Fly and Clare, then slump into bed exhausted and ready for sleep.
Before I know it, I’ve made it through another week and it’s Saturday night all over again.
Along with my two new friends, I smuggle my dinner out of the canteen and take it back to Clare’s room. We’re just settling down to eat, when Fly pulls something out from his jacket.
“Something to get this party started.” He produces three tumblers from his pocket – tumblers he’s swiped from the canteen, and pours amber liquid into each.
“What is that?” Clare says, her nose wrinkling.
“What is that?” Fly chuckles. “Liquor, what else?”
“Liquor?” Clare’s eyes widen. “How did you get that?”
“I may not have magical abilities but I’m extremely proficient at smuggling – a skill I bet is underrated at this stupid academy. Anyway, luckily for you, it means I have several bottles of the stuff swiped from my parents’ liquor cabinet. I think it will probably be needed to help us get through the next twelve months.”
He hands me a glass and I lift it to my nose and sniff. I can tell by the aroma it’s much better quality stuff than the bootleg crap brewed back in Slate Quarter – although I doubt it’s as refined as anything available in Onyx.
“I’ve never drunk liquor before,” Clare says, staring into her glass fearfully.
“You haven’t? How is that possible?” Fly asks.
“My parents are teetotal. There’s no alcohol at home.”
“That sounds … dull.” Fly frowns. “I hope you aren’t going to be one of those killjoys who likes to preach to–”
“I don’t really drink either,” I say, although in my case for the opposite reason to Clare’s – when you’ve seen your father become more and more dependent on the stuff just to make it through the day, it loses its appeal.
“Really?” Fly says, surprised, “I’d’ve thought it was a necessity in Slate Quarter.”
“Cause we’re all drunks?” I snap.
“I didn’t say that.” He lifts his glass. “Try it ladies. I promise you, it’s good stuff and we deserve it after the two weeks we’ve had.”
I stare down into the glass. I have no desire to become like my dad. But this is different, right? I’m not drinking to drown my sorrows, to try to forget. I’m hanging out with friends – having a good time with friends. Actual friends.
“To surviving our first two weeks,” I say, lifting my glass and then taking a large gulp, one that has me coughing and spluttering and my eyes watering.
“Can you call it surviving though, when you’ve been beaten up so many times?” Fly says.
I stick my tongue out at him. “I’m still here though.”
Heart still beating, lungs still breathing. I count that as a win in my book.
“That you are, Cupcake.” He smiles at me with affection.
Clare takes a cautious sip, smiling as she swallows the liquor.
“Hmmm, that’s actually really nice. I can see why people like this stuff.”
“They like it because it makes them feel good,” Fly says. “Until the morning anyway. So go slow.” He catches Clare’s wrist as she attempts to take a much bigger gulp this time. “You don’t want to waste your only day off hungover in bed.”
