Nightworld Academy: Origins by LJ Swallow

Author:LJ Swallow [Swallow, LJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub

Chapter Eight

MAEVE

The dreary weather welcomes me to my first day at ‘The Academy For Bad Kids Who Also Aren’t Right in the Head.’ I said the words as a joke to my parents when we arrived, trying to hide my nerves, but they weren’t amused by my joke. I’m not amused that they brought me here. Why did my aunt decide to step in with such a generous donation to my education? My mother barely talks to her sister, and I haven’t seen Aunt Marie for years. Well, when I do, I’ll have questions.

Like this academy fills me with questions.

Jamie and Amelia seem to think there’s no possibility I’ll survive five minutes without one of them by my side, but I’ve finally managed to escape them and the academy. Well, the building anyway. I won’t be able to stroll out of the locked gates, and I’m not athletic enough to scale the chainmail fence at the edge of the woods.

The sun now attempts to shine and gives the surroundings a less oppressive feeling. The sports fields at the back of the area are painted up for rugby and I wander over. A small group practices, passing the ball or joining the scrum. I wrap my arms around myself and stand close to the goal posts.

I've met few people so far, but instantly recognise the guy who stands head and shoulders above the rest the moment he breaks free from the scrum. The cute guy who spoke to me at the café last night—one of few who didn’t stare at me as if I shouldn’t be here.

Ash charges across the field with the ball under his arm at a speed that would impress my sports teacher from my old school. That poor guy struggled to get anyone interested in the rugby team. I'm not a huge sports fan, but I can appreciate how vastly Ash's skill outweighs the others who struggle to catch him.

I can also appreciate his tight shirt and how much the shorts reveal. Ash's blue and black top stretches across muscular shoulders and as he passes me, I stare at his face splattered with mud and hair plastered against his forehead. He moves with determination until he reaches the edge of the pitch, then kicks the ball over the crossbar. It sails high into the sky before landing the other side.

Unsure whether I should stand and stare since I'm conspicuous, I wrap my coat around myself. The Yorkshire autumn weather is bad enough, but on these moors the rain and wind add extra dreariness, even with the sunshine struggling through the clouds. No wonder so many who live here are in bad moods. I watch anyway, short of something to do since no teacher has told me what to do in the daytime, and I don't want to sit in my room alone.

Rain now spots from the sky, and I wrinkle my nose, hoping this doesn't become another downpour. What happened to the sunny day?

The practice match comes to an abrupt halt, and a muddied Ash approaches me.

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