A Dreadful Thing

8: THE DINING HALL

EIGHT: THE DINING HALL

Orla

The slow, sinuous glide of morning sunlight across her face stirred Orla into awareness.

She blinked groggy eyes open, and instead of seeing faded shiplap on the ceiling, she saw painted stone with fancy wood moldings and rainbow splotches where the light caroused through the crystal lamp by the desk. Her desk.

It wasn't a dream, she marveled, sitting up. She touched the fluffy comforter, then reached for the quilt, bunching the stiffer material in her hand. It was real. I'm really at Bilarthus.

Across the room, Vera snored in her bed, tucked beneath the blankets.

Orla knew it was early yet, so she tried to be quiet as she got up and started to inspect her side of their dorm. She hadn't had much of a chance the night before, too tired to do anything more than change into pajamas, open the empty wardrobe, and set her bag inside. Now she looked at the desk and all its drawers, finding them and the shelves above it all empty.

Makes sense, she reminded herself. I haven't gotten any of my school things yet. Even as the thought occurred to her, a nervous frisson upset her hungry stomach, twisting about it like a barbed wire. Master Porter said they had a fund for children like her, but how much would it cover? Would it be enough for everything she needed? What did someone need when attending a school for Seraphium?

Vera snorted and jerked awake like someone had stuck her in the backside with a needle. She grunted a garbled, "Whatimeizzit?"

Confused, Orla blinked at her, and Vera blinked back, slowly gaining cognition. "Oh," she finally said, rubbing at her eyes, patting the bonnet she'd tucked her curls inside. "Sorry, what time is it?"

"I...dunno."

Grumbling, Vera reached for the nightstand and picked up her wristwatch. "Not yet seven. What are you doing up?"

"I guess I'm usually up this early," Orla replied. The walk to school had always been long, and Morty typically got restless around dawn. She'd go down to make her breakfast and find Mr. Byrne already awake, looking as if he hadn't gone to bed. The bastard. "I'm excited, too."

Vera hummed and nodded, still half-asleep, so Orla went to the wardrobe to get her bag and find a change of clothes. When she opened it, she paused upon seeing all her clothes hung on hangers or folded on the clean shelves.

"Did you—? How did my stuff get put away?"

"Hmm?" Vera asked, sluggishly getting about. "That? The furniture does it sometimes."

"...the furniture?"

"Mhm. Master Porter explained to me last year that with so many Seraphium in one area, unexplainable things are far more likely to happen. Sometimes it's good, and sometimes it's not. Another girl had all her shoes stuck to the ceiling one day. She had to find one of the Masters to come and get them down."

Fortunately for Orla, her shoes were exactly where they were meant to be, and she was able to grab her things and make for the showers in the shared bathroom down the hall. Despite the early hour, other girls were already inside, two chatting by the row sinks, another at the marble counter, leaning forward to see her face in the gilded mirror and apply mascara. Another was in one of the shut shower stalls, the sound of water splashing on the green and blue tiles.

Orla ducked her head and hurried past them, not wanting to be cornered in a bathroom. That had happened one too many times with Marissa Mallard and her goons. However, her luck didn't hold when she was on her way out after cleaning up; one of the girls called out, "Hey—who are you?"