it ten times worse. If Alyssa and her flunkies aren’t happy with me, then they’ll do everything they can to make me unhappy. I’m not gonna play that game. I’m just removing myself from the equation.”
“I think it’s mature of you,” Asher says.
“We’ve got plenty of room,” Cam points out. “This room is meant to be a quad. It’ll be great.”
Dmitri’s jaw tenses, and I can tell he knows he’s outnumbered.
“Fine,” he says after a tense silence. “But don’t let anyone else know about it.”
That’s fine by me.
And hey, if my choices are between Dmitri being quietly cranky or those four stuck-up bitches going after me? I know which one I’d take any day.
As for the fact that I’m stupidly attracted to all three of my new roommates? Well…
I’ll just burn that bridge when I get to it.
Chapter 12
Alyssa and her crew don’t go after me again like they did in the locker, although they’re having a grand old time muttering about me and spreading stories whenever they get the chance. For instance, one week I have to deal with the fun rumor that I killed my mother.
Fucking great.
I guess Mom did kind of drop off the face of the earth after Dad left her, withdrawing from the magical community—and most people have no idea what even happened to her. From there, I guess Alyssa considers it a logical jump to tell everyone that my mom didn’t just stop interacting with magical society, she was murdered.
By me.
Jesus.
Not that I tell Maddy about any of this when she next calls me five weeks into the semester. I just tell her about the classes and the normal stuff. I’m not going to give her any reason to worry about me, especially when there isn’t anything she can do about it.
Maddy sounds like she’s having a blast at Neptune Academy. She’s made tons of new friends—I can’t keep all their names straight. She loves most of her classes, gushes about a few cool professors, and whines about some harder classes and the dining room food.
All in all, she’s getting the authentic “magic academy” experience. And she’s learning a lot more about her water elemental powers, which she never could’ve done in our tiny apartment in Portland.
“It’s amazing!” she raves, her voice squeaky with excitement. “I can do so much, and I had no idea half of it was even possible!”
“I’m proud of you,” I tell her, grinning broadly. “And I can tell you’re having fun. That’s great, Mads.”
“What about you?” she asks. “Tell me more. How’re things?”
I fill her in on everything, including the fact that I’m actually making some new friends too. I tell her I moved in with the guys, but I don’t mention the chemistry that simmers between me and Dmitri or how I wouldn’t say no to hooking up with Asher or Cam. Maddy will just push me to make a move on one of them, and while sex is all well and good, I don’t need to set myself up to get my heart broken. Especially since none of them will understand why I am… the way I am.
Closed off.
Emotionally distant.
People don’t want to hear a sob story, and most of them don’t want to bother waiting around for me to warm up enough to trust them.
But my new roomies are good people, and they’ve been amazing friends to me so far. I’m beyond grateful that they’re letting me crash with them. Why worry or hope for something more than that?
I tell my sister about Raul too, since he reminds me of her. “It’s good to know I’m not the only terrified first year here,” I admit. “Everyone else seems to know what they’re doing, but Raul and I just buddy up and try not to get bulldozed.”
“You? Bulldozed?” Mads laughs. “I’d like to see anyone try that. But what about the girls? You’re making friends with some of them, right? Not just the guys?”
“They’re fine. I’m just… you know me. It just hasn’t worked out that way.”
I absolutely adore my sister, and I’d love to have a close female friend someday, but so far, I haven’t managed it. I don’t think I’m crankier to girls than guys—I like to think of myself as an equal opportunity bitch—but I sometimes have a harder time relating to them. I couldn’t name a fashion designer to save my life, and the last time I painted my fingernails was when I was twelve. Not that all women are fashionistas with perfect