He'd been avoiding her like a virus. A contagious, fatal one. In fact he'd barely spoken to anyone since he'd been called to Sir Pitch's office, the day after the ceremony at the Arc. God knew what Sir Pitch had said to him, but it had left Tyler silent and ashamed and, thought Elsa, a touch resentful. He wasn't himself. Hah. Not himself: that was for sure. Neither,of course, was she. Tyler had got off lightly, and so had the others, compared to their ringleader. From the tree-shaded colonnade, Elsa had watched Caroline's elegant exit from the Black Academy, just twenty-four hours after she'd fled from them in monstrous form. The blonde beauty had sashayed down the steps, head high, hair and skin shining like any normal prom queen's. She'd worn big dark glasses, blood-red lipstick, and a brand new diagonal scar on her cheekbone. That, thought Elsa, had healed remarkably quickly, but it wasn't going to go away entirely. How had the immaculate Hitchcock blonde feel? she wondered. About scarring, disgrace, expulsion?
Was she regretful? Not likely. Vengeful? Sir Pitch had stood at the top of the steps, watching Caroline until she slid gracefully into the black limousine and the chauffeur had closed the door. Then he'd turned, and his eyes caught Elsa's just for a moment. She was sure he'd shivered. For two weeks Elsa had waited in trepidation for her own summons to his office, but it had never come. Black seemed to be avoiding her almost as keenly as Tyler was. Not that either of them would be able to avoid her tonight. It was the Christmas Ball. And everyone, even if they no longer felt like it, was required to go.
Despite recent events, the whole school was buzzing with subdued excitement. She couldn't feel any of it. The preparations, the plans, the gossip and anticipation: none of them meant anything. The Black Academy was finished for her. It was finished with her. She wouldn't see its enigmatic founder again. He was going to leave Elsa to work this mess out her herself, that was clear. She was an embarrassment, a mistake, a nasty accident dumped on him by a few of his indisciplined favourites. Sir Pitch Black probably couldn't wait to see the back of her. Well, Elsa didn't care. She was anxious, frightened, confused, but she didn't care. She'd learned a lot. She'd go back to her old life, and survive. She always had. In the meantime, she might as well party.
*
School wallflower, Elsa thought ruefully. What a way to end her less-than-glittering career at the Black Academy.
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Black Academy
Fanfiction'TRUE GRADUATES OF THE BLACK ACADEMY TAKE LIFE BY THE THROAT, ELSA. REMEMBER THAT!' The Black Academy is a school like no other. An élite establishment that moves to a new exotic city every term, its students are possibly beautiful, sophisticated...
