The hall clock had just chimed three o’clock when I heard the footsteps. At 3:01, I heard the shrieks.
I ripped the buds from my ears and shoved my iPod in the belly of my regulation granny panties. Slinking to the hallway, I watched as seven Initiates went from door to door, pulling Acari from their beds. Girls stumbled from their rooms, dressed in full winter gear, fully packed kit bags slung on their backs. The uncooperative ones were dragged out by their hair.
I panicked. Was I supposed to be in bed? Had there been a lights-out curfew I didn’t know about? Should I hide? Would I get in trouble already?
“You,” a voice called behind me.
I spun, startled. I had enough sense to look down submissively, but not before getting a full glimpse of the creature standing before me. Black hair in a severe bob; hard-edged features. She wore the midnight blue catsuit of an Initiate.
I thought of the headmaster’s speech. A black bullwhip unfurled from her hand, and I remembered. She was here to teach me pain.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Yes . . .” I answered warily, fumbling for how to address her. Yes, Master? Yes, Ma’am? Yes, Ms. Bizarro Dungeon Queen?
“I am Guidon Masha.” I detected the faint strains of a Russian accent, just the barest hint in her elongated vowels. “And you are late for the party.”
I forced my gaze to meet hers. I knew I needed to be agreeable, but something told me it’d be dangerous to let anyone scent fear. “Yes, Guidon.”
A frightening smile curved one corner of her mouth. I’d gotten the term of address correct. I guessed Guidon was a more advanced level of Initiate. I recognized it as a military word, though its exact meaning escaped me.
This was an ordered world I found myself in, one of hierarchies and titles. But I was smart; I could learn. I felt my shoulders relax a bit.
The smile evaporated from her face. Apparently she’d sensed the relaxation in my posture and didn’t much like it. “Move, Acari. You will go to your room and return in full uniform, carrying everything you own.” She cracked her whip, snapping it against the couch. The couch, by the way, was at least seven feet away. “Now. Before I make you run.”
I didn’t need any more urging than that.
Great. I’d broken Annelise Drew Cardinal Rule Number One: blend. At all costs. And now my penalty was the attention of a girl with a bullwhip. Though, arguably, it beat catching the eye of someone with a lasso.
My brisk walk sped into a jog. I passed Lilac in the hallway, and the evil eye she gave me said she blamed me for her lack of sleep.
I zipped into our room and frantically gathered my stuff. It didn’t take long, since, aside from a dry pair of socks and a little bag of toiletries, I hadn’t unpacked in the first place.
Nerves slicked my skin with a fine sheen of sweat. I became aware of the metal and glass of my iPod, heavy and damp in my panties. I froze, crooking my thighs to stop it from slipping free.
I shot a glance at the door open behind me. Would anyone notice? Something told me I needed to take the risk. Jamming my hand down the front of my leggings, I retrieved both my iPod and the photo and shoved them deep into my kit bag.
I turned to bolt out the door, my heart pounding in my chest, but then paused, thinking of the throwing stars. She’d said everything. Dashing back in, I tugged off my pillowcase and wrapped it around the Japanese box, quickly nestling it in the center of my bag. I hoped it’d be safe.
Hoisting it all on my back, I ran out the door. The shoulder strap snagged on my parka and was dragging my sleeves up in an annoying way. I took a split second to adjust it.
“Acari Drew,” Masha snapped, punctuating her words with a flick of her whip. “Get in the ranks.”
I jerked my hands back to my sides. The other girls stood two by two, and I joined them, my heart thumping sharply in my chest. A scrappy, heart-faced girl and I merged together to bring up the end of the line. We didn’t make eye contact.
“Acari,” one of the Initiates ordered. “March.”
It was the weirdest thing, but march we did. Without training, without direction, we fell into step as though marching were something hardwired into our reptilian brains.
“Halt,” the same Initiate shouted when we reached the end of the hall.
A couple of the girls pitched into each other and were rewarded with a snap of Masha’s whip on the backs of their thighs.
The Initiates had stopped us in front of the bathroom and now stood, whispering among themselves. My gaze twitched to them and then quickly back again. The last thing I wanted was accidental eye contact. In their catsuits, they seemed like a cadre of diabolical supermodels.
I tried to measure my breathing and slow my pounding heart.
Why were we standing there in front of the bathroom? What, were they going to let us use the potty before our night of hazing?