Isle of Night (14 page)

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Authors: Veronica Wolff

BOOK: Isle of Night
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“B
ut, seriously.” I jogged to catch up to Ronan on his way Bout of the dining hall. “I
can't
swim.”on his way out of the dining hall. “I can't swim.”
Just the thought of it was enough to freak me out. I despised it. Despised the sensation of being submerged, of water going up my nose and gurgling in my ears. It was just
wrong
.
To top it all off,
Ronan
was my teacher.
Ronan
would be the one sitting front and center at my carnival of lameness, ineptitude, and irrational fears. Clearly, the fates did not believe in the personal dignity of Annelise Drew.
Not to mention, this did nothing for my plan. How was I to excel and escape if I had to swim? I would never excel at swimming. “What happens if I can't learn?”
“You will.” He held the door open for me.
I pulled on my cap and zipped up my coat, following him down the stairs, my mind racing. Surely there were Watchers out there who weren't great in the water. We were training to be emissaries for vampires, not mermen. “But if I don't, will I still be able to progress to the next level? I don't care how much you try to hypnotize me—I
really
can't swim.”
“That's why you're in a private study. And I didn't hypnotize you.” With a sigh, he stopped and faced me. “Now it's time for you to get to your first class. Do you know how to get to the science building?”
I stared at him. “I'm
so
not done discussing this whole swim thing.”
He turned onto the path, ignoring my comment. “Never mind. I'm going that way. I'll show you.”
“But wait.” The path appeared to head
away
from the buildings, so I turned away from him and stepped onto the quad instead. The snow had transformed into shoals of dingy gray ice atop mucky gray gravel, and it crunched underfoot. “Isn't it this way?”
“Stop,” he said abruptly. “Acari aren't allowed to stray from the path.”
I gaped in disbelief. “You're kidding, right? Is that supposed to be a metaphor? Some sort of
Karate Kid,
wax-on, wax-off thing?”
He gave me that peeved quit-your-joking look he sometimes got.
Shoulders slumping, I reined in the sarcasm and rejoined him. “So, you're saying we have to take
every
corner around the quad,
every
time? Not just for naked midnight hazing runs?”
He gave a brisk nod and strode ahead. “No shortcuts.”
“And if an Acari breaks the rule?” Catching up to him, I saw the expression on his face and quit that line of questioning right there. “Okay, I got it. I won't break the rules. But you've got to help me at least drop swim class.”
Ronan raised his brows. “Have you learned how to swim in the past twenty-four hours?”
“No.”
Duh.
“Do you wish to drown during your stay on the isle?”
“Of course not. I—”
“Then you have no choice, Drew. There is no
dropping classes
. There is no
choice
. You do as you're told, and you survive. You
will
learn to swim. And, moreover, you will be the best.”
Ronan had no idea what he was talking about. Surely I'd be able to fudge my way out of it. Because I not only couldn't swim, I
wouldn't
swim. I was terrified of choking, of drowning. Just the thought of it clenched my chest with panic.
I had to change the subject. I fished my course list back out of my pocket and shook it at him. “And what's with these other classes? Come on, I have to take a class in
decorum
?”
The word had come out louder than I'd intended. By Ronan's exasperated headshake, I could tell the irony wasn't lost on him.
“You may want to keep it down,” he muttered, looking around. I'd caught the attention of one of the Initiates, and he gave her a nod. His friendly expression struck me as forced, but it seemed to satisfy her.
I toed a rock free from the path, kicking it a few steps ahead of me. “Decorum,” I grumbled. “I'd thought you were putting me in some sort of gifted-and-talented program, and instead you're making me take a class in
manners
?”
“
I'm
not making you do anything. It's required of all Acari. The vampires find modern girls to be . . . coarse.” He shrugged. “You should be pleased I got you out of piano.”
“Piano would've been cool.”
“So you'd think.”
“And what's with combat? Are they sending me to war?” I tossed off a cynical laugh, but his curious stare silenced me. “Wait. They're not sending me to war or anything, right?”
“No wars per se.” He was trying to assure me, I think. It wasn't working. “But you must learn to fight. Hand-to-hand sparring. Other necessary tactics.”
“Fighting?” I felt the cold, prickly sensation of blood draining from my head. I'd been hit enough times in my life already—I'd hoped to put the whole getting-pummeled thing behind me. “You're going to make me fight? I can't fight.”
“We'll train you.”
I pulled the black knit cap from my head and raked my fingers through my hair. “Like, fight with the other girls? I thought we were training to be attachés.”
“You'll be that and more. You must be ready for anything, at all times.”
I clenched my hands, feeling a familiar dread wash over me. Needing to be
ready for anything
sounded a bit too much like my childhood. “But swimming?
Combat?
I can't do all that stuff. And I definitely can't fight the other girls.”
He touched my shoulder. “You can and you will.”
The contact was light and quick, but it was enough to halt my growing hysteria. I calmed a little, noticing I'd accidentally crumpled my schedule.
And then my body seized. I flinched my shoulder away from him. I didn't trust him or his supernatural touches. “Don't touch me.”
He actually managed to seem confused and innocent for a moment.
Bravo, Ronan.
Then he said, “You must learn to trust me.”
We were approaching the group of buildings, and Ronan slowed his pace. “It's not all academics on this isle. Combat tactics, physical prowess—those elements are integral to success. This system is built to train girls just like you. Trust me on this, if nothing else. You can do it.”
I tugged the cap back onto my head. I thought it might be a little askew, but I didn't particularly care at the moment. “Trust you? You're the one who got me into this mess in the first place.”
He stopped on the path, looking at me thoughtfully. “Annelise, the swimming aside, I think you might be surprised at how much you enjoy your studies.”
I scowled, remembering the scene in the dining hall. I wasn't exactly looking forward to witnessing my peers salivating over one another. “So,
boys
will be in the classes?” They'd struck me as a bunch of jocks, the lot of them. I wondered if they were as meat-headed as they looked.
“Just decorum and phenomena. Male Trainees have a different physical-education program.”
“I'll bet.” It seemed obvious that stalking potential victims, catching them, and then drinking their blood required a completely different skill set.
I shivered. Did the vampires in training know what was ahead of them? How did
they
feel about this whole messed-up scene?
I guessed I could ask one of them. My first class was phenomena, which Ronan had said was coed. I frowned. “What does one study in phenomena, anyway?”
“You'll find out soon enough. You're here.” Ronan nodded toward a stout, two-story stone building. It looked like a place you'd see on any college campus in the Northeast.
“Your only other class today is fitness.” He pointed back the way we came, toward a building whose stark, rounded, and corrugated roof proclaimed it to be Standard-Issue Gymnasium, Circa 1970. “It meets three days a week, after lunch, two o'clock sharp. Combat meets there, too, on alternate days.”
I
loathed
working out, and now I had five days a week of it? I turned my back to the gym.
One panic attack at a time.
I nodded a wordless good-bye to Ronan. Hopefully he took my silent farewell for cool nonchalance, and didn't clue in to the fact that I was about to completely lose it.
Clutching my regulation black messenger bag to my side, I warily walked in for phenomena class.
Whatever
that
was. Something stupidly archaic and redundant, I was sure.
The blast of heat did nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. Old-fashioned radiators lined the hallway, and each one I passed was like walking through a pool of hot air. I followed the sounds of adolescent chatter coming from the end of the hall. The pinging and knocking of the ancient heaters tracked my progress.
I passed a few closed doors. They were the old kind, with big rectangles of wavy glass on the top half. The lights were off, and I thought they must be empty offices.
Something that looked like a library took up almost the whole other side of the hallway. I wished I had the time—or the guts—to peek in. If there was one thing I was looking forward to in this whole hot mess, it was accessing the old knowledge—and old books—of a bunch of ancient vampires.
I stopped outside the last door, my heart in my throat. The chatter was loud, and sure enough, it was girls
and
boys.
I was determined to take a seat at the very back. It was only a matter of time before I was identified as a nerdbot worthy of heckling. Until then, I'd lie low and do my work. Just like I'd done in Florida. Get in; get out.
Taking a deep breath, I entered. I swept my eyes across the classroom. Far from my fantasy of a genius academy, this was shaping up to be some sort of training facility for truants and delinquents.
And I'd bet
they
could all swim.
I scanned the seats, determined not to panic. What had I been thinking?
Of course
the back row was already taken. So much for part one of my plan.
First-day-of-school seat selection always felt so rife with meaning. Was one cool enough for the very back? Overeager front-row material, perhaps? Or was it to be the mediocre middle?
Avoiding all eye contact, I took the first seat I saw that had empty spots on either side. Unfortunately, it was in the very front.
I braced myself. It was only a matter of time now. I wondered if and when miscellaneous crap would begin to clip the back of my head, just as it had every day, in every class, in my dear old alma mater.
I was determined to stay focused. I needed to be stellar in my academic classes. Especially seeing as I was going to bomb swimming.
I unpacked my notebook very slowly. I imagined myself invisible.
A large body slid into the seat next to mine. Not
larg
e-large, but tall-large. My peripheral vision estimated an even six-feet, plus or minus. Black hair. I caught a glimpse of the gray sweater and black denim of the boys' uniform.
I slowly pulled a pen from my bag. Carefully opened my notebook to the first page, smoothing it flat. I was invisible,
and
very busy.
“Hey, Blondie. You're not one of
them
, are you?”
The body came with a voice, and it was addressing
me
.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I
sat frozen. The jig was up. So much for flying below the radar. By
one of them
, the boy had surely meant “total impostor.” Or “geek loser,” maybe. Either way, it was only a matter of time before my identity as Drew the Dork was uncovered.
Here goes.
“One of what?” Taking in a steadying breath, I looked up.

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