Touch of Fear ▸ House of Anubis [2]

chapter eight. house of nightmares

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            Do not let him find that dollhouse, Ashley Adams.

            Victor steps into our room, eyeing the four of us suspiciously. I don't dare to glance back to the blanket-covered dollhouse, even though I can still smell the smoke. Victor opens his mouth, and though I expected him to tell us to move, he looks right at Fabian and says, "You are well aware of the rules, Mr. Rutter. To your room immediately."

            Fabian rushes out, leaving a hole in our guarding the dollhouse. So Nina, Amber, and I step closer together to hide it, but Victor continues, "Where is that smoke coming from? Hm?" I press my lips together, swallowing. If he finds it, we're toast. I might mean that literally; the dollhouse is smoking and burned my and Fabian's hands. "Well?"

            The door opens again. Nina's gran enters, and for once, I'm actually quite pleased to see her in our room. Victor doesn't seem to know what to do around her. She checks her watch and says, "Oh. Did I miss my curfew? Sorry, Victor. Don't put me in detention, will you?"

            As I hoped he would, Victor leaves without saying another word. I grin at the American grandmother, thankful for her visiting at the moment even though she's leaving tomorrow morning, before we turn around and remove my blanket from the dollhouse, fanning the rest of the smoke away.

—

            "I hate mornings."

            "Well, I love mornings. All that peace and quiet for uninterrupted study. We're so different."

            "But so right."

            I stare at the couple talking at breakfast, mouth dropped and confused. It's Mick (morning hater) and Mara (morning lover), and apparently I missed a lot yesterday whilst I was in the library and skipping dinner last night. Mara has, according to Patricia, been trying to get Mick to break up with her so he can go live in Australia with his parents and go to what is apparently a dream school by dressing up as a stereotypical nerd. Geeky glasses, hair in pigtails, over-exaggerating her already-nerdiness. Nerdy Mara is somehow more unsettling than Goth Mara last term.

            "Hey, uh," I say slowly, "pass me a pear, Moaning Myrtle."

            Mara hands me across a pear as Jerome questions, "Since when do you eat pears?"

            "You don't know everything about me."

            Joy frowns. "Are you okay, Ashley?"

            "I have never," I retort, holding up a finger, "been okay once in my life, Mercer. And they," I point at Mick and Mara, the former of who is looking closely at his girlfriend's face, "are not making things any better. Everyone else finds this weird, right?"