Black Academy

Chapter 7

Elsa leaned on the ornate balustrade and stared down the west wing staircase. This was where Jack had stood, watching her, three weeks ago. She tried to remember how afraid she'd been that night, but in the daylight the staircase seemed only beautiful, not threatening. Below her, other students were hurrying down to the dining room, chattering and laughing easily. Out of the general chatter she heard Tyler's abrupt, confident bark of laughter, and she smiled.

Still, she couldn't shake a niggling sens of wrongness. As the noise and gossip faded, Elsa lingered, frowning. The balustrade was all black iron swirls, punctured with gilt flourishes of feathers and suns. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw herself and the tall south-facing window reflected in an ornate gold mirror. You wouldn't think the place could seem so dark and sinister. Elsa shook her head.

She died at the Black Academy. Flynn's sister died . . .

At the Academy, in Cambodia. Rapunzel had been reluctant to explain, which was most unlike her. Elsa had had to badger her for days. "I should not talk about it. Honestly, Elsa. A terrible thing. So very sad. Such a young death. And not the firs-" Her roommate, uncharacteristically, had blushed and clamped her lips together, and no nagging from Elsa would persuade her to finish the sentence.

And not the first, either. Was that what she'd been about to say? No. Could have been anything. Heck, Rapunzel could have been about to say, Not the first time somebody had an accident. Or, Not the first tragically young heart-attack victim. But somehow Elsa didn't think it had been either of those. "I don't know what happened." Rapunzel had shrugged unhappily. "We were never told details. It seemed . . . not right to ask, you know? There were rumors. There always are." Elsa had bitten her lip, hoping she didn't sound ghoulishly curious. "What kind of rumors?"

"Oh, terrible things. People make things up, when there is no information. That is why I think we should have been told. Then gossip does not start." Rapunzel had hesitated, picking at a fingernail. "You look like her, by the way." "Like Flynn's sister?" Elsa shivered. Resembling a dead girl was not an appealing thought. "A little. Not exactly, of course, but her eyes weer almost the colour of yours. Not so dark but still, that baby blue. And a similar sort of face - how do you say, sharp? Intelligent. I think Flynn got a fright when he first met you."

She remembered. Spooky. "So what were the rumors?" "Oh, crazy things. That her body was damaged." "What?" Elsa swallowed hard. "Mutilated, you mean? Like she was killed deliberately?" Poor Flynn. "No, no. I don't know. Not mutilated. More . . . drained, dried-up. Maybe she cut herself, bled to death; that is what I think. By accident or not, who can tell? Something so simple and so tragic." "For God's sake. That wouldn't drain her whole body." Rapunzel shrugged. "Maybe she lay in the sun too long. Before they found her, I mean. Horrible, but it was all exaggerated, I'm sure. Oh, the dreadful things people say. And that's why . . ." 

"Why what? Come on Rapunzel, spill." Rapunzel sighed, raking her fingers through her hair. "That's why Flynn doesn't like Jack. Jess was Jack's girlfriend, you see. There were rumors at school that he was involved." Elsa went pale (even though she is naturally pale). "But that's-" "Crazy, of course! But it is so hard for Flynn to ignore the gossip. He cannot stop thinking that perhaps Jack . . . well, I don't even like to say it. It was a terrible accident, that is all, and Flynn is grief-stricken. He cannot bear to blame it just on the school's bad luck." "Bad luck," repeated Elsa, licking parched lips. Dried-up . . .

"Yes. Only bad luck. We are lucky Sir Pitch has influential friends. Our parents, too. That is, I mean . . ." Biting her lip, she blushed furiously and rushed on. "Such incidents can destroy a school, yes?" "Such incidents." At some point, thought Elsa, she would think of something original to say, instead of echoing Rapunzel like a dazed parrot. "Accidents, I should say. Another one a few years ago. Before that . . . well. Let's not talk about it, Elsa. Let's talk about Tyler!" Which, by that point in the conversation, Elsa had been more than happy to do.