−1
GO FISH
THE NIGHT IT HAPPENED, THERE was a party.
Though parties weren’t unusual for the students of Alfred Nobel Academy, this one certainly was.
Every now and again, there’d be a secret off-campus soiree at a house one of the Senior Hawking boys rented out. Something gossipworthy would happen, like a third year who’d have one too many drinks and end up making out with his ex-boyfriend in public. Or a fourth year getting so high they’d forget where they were and would end up streaking around the pool, baring it all for everyone to see.
Then the following Monday, all the shenanigans from that weekend would become the hot topic throughout the boarding school, hushed whispers about the fortunate few floating through the hallways, the classrooms, and the dorms.
What made this night particularly strange, though, was what occurred when no watchful gazes or cameras—to her knowledge—were there to document it:
A girl climbing down from a balcony. Her trembling fingers gripping the handles of the spiral staircase. The night swallowing her cries whole as she stumbled toward the car that was waiting for her.
She didn’t dare look back.
Looking back would be acknowledging what had happened.
What she had done.
The gray car was hidden in a corner on the quiet path that led up to the house, blending in with the shadows, visible only to those who knew to look for it.
The click of the car door echoed loudly as she climbed into the passenger seat, shutting the door quickly before anyone could see.
Another girl was settled in the driver’s seat, concern carved into her dark features—her short blonde hair styled in gentle waves, rippling across her head, blurring and rippling more with the trembling girl’s tears.
“Did you get the—” The blonde girl paused, noticing her friend’s tearstained cheeks. “What happened?” she finished.
The girl silently wiped her face, avoiding her gaze.
“Sade?” the blonde girl said in a gentle whisper.
Sade finally looked up and stared into her eyes.
“H-he’s dead.”
0
5 WEEKS AGO
MONDAY
NEW GIRL
SADE HUSSEIN WAS USED TO being lied to.
When she was seven, she was told that the woman she saw sneaking out of her father’s room early in the morning was the tooth fairy and definitely not her nanny. When she was ten and she found her mother slumped back in the bathtub, unmoving, with a bottle of pills resting on the ledge—she was told that her mother was taking a very long nap and would wake soon. When she was fourteen, she begged her father to let her go to a normal school and make friends with real kids her age, instead of her only real friend being her maths tutor who let her sleep during class sometimes. She was told by her father that high school wasn’t what it seemed. That it was the furthest from the magic that the movies had led her to believe.
But as the black town car pulled into the gates of Alfred Nobel Academy and the giant castle-like boarding school came into view, neither the rain nor the memory of her father’s warning could dull her excitement.
The school looked like a palace.
The brownstone walls, fancy peaks, and crisp greenery near the front that seemed to stretch on for miles had captured her attention entirely. Even the driver’s eyes widened at the sight of the enormous building, a far cry from the narrow town house she grew up in.
A knock on the window pulled them both out of their trance as a man wearing a security uniform leaned over the car.
Sade wound her window down.
“Name and purpose?” the security guy asked her.
“Sade Hussein, student,” she said, and followed up quickly with, “It’s my first day.”
He nodded, then muttered something into his walkie-talkie. “All right. You can go on up. There should be someone waiting for you by the entrance,” he told her.
“Thank you,” she replied.
The car continued along the path, and Sade tried to take in more of the school surroundings.
Perfectly trimmed rosebushes, evenly cut grass, and wild cherry trees. In the distance, she could see rows of beautiful buildings. Old and new.
“I think this is as far as I can go,” the driver said, the car coming to a stop in front of the main building.
“How much is that?” she asked.
The driver looked at her through the rearview mirror. “It’s covered, compliments of your father,” he said, the last part uttered quickly in a hushed tone, as though just the thought of him could raise the dead.
It was strange how even from beyond the grave, her father still had that effect on people.
It was as though people didn’t truly believe he was gone.
The great Akin Hussein, bested by his very own heart. It didn’t seem real.
She didn’t blame them either—even she felt his presence still looming. Watching her every move like he had always done.
But she knew with absolute certainty that he had to be gone.
After all, she wouldn’t be here if his heart was still beating.
Sade gave the driver a tight smile and dug into her purse for some cash. “Here,” she said, handing the driver two crisp fifty-pound notes.
He was about to protest.
“I’d feel much better if you took this.”
The driver hesitated before accepting the cash.
“Thank you,” she said getting out of the car, careful not to crease the stubborn material of her black tweed custom Chanel dress.
As the driver unloaded her suitcases from the boot, the main entrance of the school swung open, revealing a tall, skeletal-looking woman with a high bun, pencil skirt, and a severe expression carved into her face.
“Sade Hussein?” the woman called out sharply as she approached the car, pronouncing both her first name and last name wrong: SADIE HOO-SEN instead of SHAH-DAY HOO-SAYN.
Sade noticed the woman eyeing her clothes with a disapproving look, grimacing at her shoes.
“It’s Sade Hussein,” Sade corrected, realizing only after saying it that that was probably a mistake. From her years of watching shows and reading books about high school, she knew that teachers rarely seemed to like being told they were wrong. Unlike her tutors, who always rewarded her tendency to be nimble-witted, this woman did not look pleased.
“You’re late,” she told her.
“Sorry. There was traffic on the way—”
“Four weeks late,” the woman interrupted.
Sade said nothing to that, despite the reasons for her lateness boring a hole into her skull and weighing her shoulders down. She had a feeling the woman wouldn’t care for her excuses, justified or not.
“There are rules, Miss Hussein, that every student is expected to adhere to. I’m not sure how things were at your last school, but here we do not accept tardiness, nor do we accept turning up on your first day dressed out of uniform. Please let this be the last time you find yourself … in traffic,” the woman said, the veins in her neck purpling. She paused, as though waiting for Sade to speak up, but then carried on when only silence followed. “Your parents should have received all the documents and passed them along to you … and yet your house form is incomplete. We’ll have to sort this all out today and you will most likely miss classes, falling even further behind. I expect you haven’t done any of the reading to catch up either, seeing as you couldn’t even complete the basic task of dressing properly for your first day of school. Seriously, did your parents not—”
“They’re dead,” Sade said coolly, interrupting her this time.
The woman looked uncomfortable. “Sorry?” she asked, as if it wasn’t already clear.
“My parents—they’re both dead. My mother died when I was ten and my father died a month ago, a few days before I was meant to start here. I was told it wouldn’t be an issue and that it would be in my file. I assumed you would have read it—my apologies for making that assumption,” she replied with a forced smile.
The driver awkwardly cleared his throat. “I have removed all your luggage from the boot, miss. Would you like me to transport your suitcases to your dormitory?” he asked her.
Sade’s gaze moved from the woman’s shocked expression to the driver’s uneasy one.
Alongside her father’s multimillion-pound estate, Sade had also inherited the burden of grief and the awkwardness that came with it.
“How much for you to move my bags?” she asked him.
He looked even more uncomfortable. “It’s fine, miss, compliments—”
Sade’s voice became unsteady. “How much?”
The driver kept quiet, and Sade sighed heavily before digging into her purse and handing him a cluster of twenty-pound notes this time, not bothering to count.
She turned back to the woman, her smile faltering. “Where do I get a uniform?”
* * *
THE INSIDE OF ALFRED NOBEL Academy was even more beautiful than the castle-like exterior. It was like stepping into a daydream.
Sade’s eyes wandered as she stood in the entrance of the main building, taking in how flawless it all was. The hardwood floors; the tall, rounded glass windows; the ceiling that had paintings of what she thought were angels, but upon a second glance, wasn’t so sure.
She felt as though she had just stepped into a museum instead of what was to become her home for the next two years.
It looked exactly like the pictures she had seen online.
“Right.” The woman—who she had since learned was the school’s matron and was named Miss Blackburn—interrupted her thoughts. ...
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