White Thorn | On Hold

Chapter One | Riverdale High

Nothing ever goes to plan.

A lesson Arya Cross learnt the hard way as she weaved through the lanes of traffic on her motorbike, tyres screeching, desperate to reach the turnoff for her destination. She was officially late for her first day at her new school – and that was never a good thing to be. Especially not when the school in question was one of the best in the entire country.

Part of her wanted to ease up on the accelerator, and just accept the fact she was going to be horrifyingly late, but she couldn't. There was a dark, horrifyingly dense forest to her left, blocking her view of her destination within. One she knew she'd be speeding through no matter the speed limit.

Anything could be out there.

The thought sent shivers down her spine.

She could already picture herself inside, the sheer height of those trees making her shudder. They were tall, the trunks a deep rich brown, flecked with hints of red. She hated that colour. It was far too similar to the colour of her blood. She much preferred green, like the leaves – bright, thin and fuzzy.

Yes. Those were what she was going to focus on once she was inside, and not on who could be lurking inside.

It didn't matter that green reminded her of thorns, because it wasn't that particular shade. Those leaves weren't that acrid colour which filled her bloody nightmares. No. The colour was similar to that of her own eyes, and Arya actually liked those.

There was nothing to worry about.

Absolutely nothing.

Maybe she wouldn't have been as worried if she'd actually arrived on time, when all the other students were making their way in, but she wasn't on time. She was hours late.

She'd set her alarm, brushed her teeth, and slipped into bed at a reasonable hour, yet all of that hadn't stopped her from leaving the hotel thirty minutes later than what she'd planned. Silently, she cursed her faulty alarm, making a mental note to buy a new one. A loud obnoxious one which would actually get her out of bed on time. She was a heavy sleeper, despite everything that had happened, and apparently she snored. Arya could only pity her new roommates.

Smiling ever so slightly at the thought, she almost missed her turn, her bike creaking in protest at the sharp turn she made. It was an old thing. A hand-me-down from one of the old priests who had loved tinkering with machines big and small. It had been an upgrade on the box of bolts she'd learnt on, but it was still a far cry away from the latest models. Yet she loved it – if only because it let her escape from everything. From her.

Her grip tightened, engine revving as she drove further down the narrower road, the smells of exhaust fumes and burnt rubber growing fainter as she made her way into the forest which separated her new school from the rest of civilisation.

It was secluded from the public eye, despite being well-known for training the best generals and other warlords for the frontlines. It was also completely different to any other schools, both in what it taught and the way it was built like a sprawling town – if the brochures she'd been given were any indication. Why had the priests insisted she go there? Arya had no clue. They'd just given her the leaflets and told her she'd been accepted into the prestigious school.

They'd told her she was different from the other children and teens they occasionally looked after, not just because of the way she looked. Whereas Arya was tall, dark-haired, and slim – thanks to all the training she'd had over the years – the other kids were bright-haired, stocky, and far shorter than her. She could still remember the one and only time she'd played with them as a child. The time they'd called her a freak. They'd singled her out because of her eyes and their unearthly shade of green. She hadn't played with them again. She liked her eyes and didn't need anyone telling her to do otherwise.