a patsy, and now that the rest of the students know what happened, she makes a convenient scapegoat. It blew up in their faces, and now they're doing damage control.
It really is the same no matter where you go.
"And Silas?" I ask, afraid to know the answer. "What happens to him?"
"I think Mr. Aconite has learned his lesson about prying into school records - don't you?" Hawthorne gives me a thin smile. "To be perfectly honest, it's you who I'm most concerned about. Don't let what happened with Ms. Goldstein fill your head with strange ideas."
"You don't have to worry about me, Sir." I meet his gaze, staring up at him as defiantly as I dare. "I'm going to be fine - on this trip, and afterward."
"I hope so," says Hawthorne, nodding slowly. "Because getting in over your head with these kinds of things never ends well, and this academy has a limited amount of places. And none for students who cause trouble. Have a good rest of your day, Ms. Brix." And with that, he turns on his heel and disappears down the hallway.
I watch him go and realise after a moment that my hands are balled into fists at my sides.
I may not be a very good shapeshifter, but I recognize a threat when I hear one.
"You don't look so good, Millie," Hazel informs me, swatting at a fly that seems very interested in her blonde curls. "A little queasy, actually."
"It's the travel," I lie, not making eye contact. "I've only teleported the one time—when Samantha and Josie first brought me here."
"For whatever it's worth, it gets easier every time," she says. "I almost puked the first time."
"Call me crazy, but I don't think reminding her of that is going to make it any better," mutters Hunter from where he's standing off to the left.
"I'm just trying to help," retorts Hazel.
"It's fine," I tell them. "I'm fine." Teleportation has never been an issue for me—at least, it wasn't, the only time I've ever experienced it. The truth is that I'm still uneasy after my run-in with Hawthorne. It didn't help that he made me late for my next class, either, but that's beside the point; I don't like the idea of his eyes on me, or any of my friends. And something tells me that we've only just hit the tip of the iceberg when it comes to what the administration will do to keep things under wraps. But I'm not about to dump that all on my friends right now - especially when they all seem thrilled to be leaving for Boston.
The students are all assembled in the quad, a thick throng of people all jostling each other and talking in excited voices. The rest of the week seemed to crawl by at a snail's pace, to the point where I was almost going stir-crazy. After finalizing the logistics and finishing our packing, the day has finally arrived, and in spite of my nerves, I couldn't be happier to be getting a change of scenery.
I was actually wondering how we were going to travel to America; there are hundreds of students at the Academy, and it seemed like a tall order to transport us all, but the faculty seems to have it all figured out. I suppose this beats an eight-hour flight followed by another hour going through customs, at any rate. I've heard they're pretty uptight about that sort of thing.
Either way, here we all are: huddled in a cluster around one of the low stone benches in the courtyard while we wait for things to get underway. Faculty fellows are milling about, doing head counts, while the professors and President stand off to the side, talking in low voices as they watch the proceedings.
"I'd rather we do it the old-fashioned way," Shade remarks from where he's sprawled out on the bench.
Silas turns to him, looking surprised. "Seriously?"
The wolf-shifter nods. "Don't tell me you don't miss plane travel. Tiny drinks, standing in line for hours, getting felt up by security agents…"
"I can't tell if you're being serious or not," Landon says.
Shade just grins at him.
I turn to Hunter, who's standing a little ways away from the rest of us. He's the quietest of the group, with a glumness about him that seems almost cliche, considering he's a vampire shifter. He's always struck me as a bit fastidious and neurotic, but then again, if I had Amelia as a sister, I would probably be, too. At the