12
Harper
Light filtersin through the window and I groan. My head pounds and my tongue feels like it’s made out of sandpaper. It takes me a second to remember the cause and then I turn and bury my face in the pillow. I’d been lured to a party and trusted someone I shouldn’t have.
And I’m sure I looked like a total idiot.
A knock sounds on my door. “Harper, you up?”
Pain bursts across my head as I turn toward the door. I’m in my room. I don’t remember how I got here, but I’m here. I glance down to see I’m still in the clothes I wore yesterday. That was probably a good sign.
“Harper, open up,” Sadie calls.
I force myself off the bed and walk over to the door. The light and the movement make me feel nauseous.
Sadie’s standing outside my door with a little vial of orange liquid. “Drink this.”
“That got me in a lot of trouble yesterday,” I say. Between the class and the party, I was not doing well with this place.
She lifts it toward me. “Just drink it, sleeping beauty.”
Reluctantly, I take the little vial from her and toss it back. The liquid feels like ice as it travels down my throat and into my stomach. I cough as I hand the vial back to her.
The pain is gone. My stomach is no longer doing summersaults. “What was that?”
“Hangover cure,” she says. “Corbin said they made you drink fae wine. Not great for most supernaturals but really bad for humans.”
“Awesome,” I say.
“But they did bring you back in one piece,” she says. “So there’s that.”
“They’re all a bunch of assholes,” I say.
“Sure are,” she agrees. “But you survived your first night.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“They do it to all the reform kids,” she says. “Some of the tricks get really brutal. I don’t trust the twins, but they’re not as bad as some of the ranking kids.”
“Ranking kids?” I rub my eyes as I try to keep up. There’s so much to learn about the way this place works.
“Shower and eat first,” she says. “I’ll explain it on our way to class.”
I groan. “I don’t want to go to class.”
“You have no choice. You have to show them they didn’t get to you last night. Like I said, stay in the middle. Don’t make a scene. They’ll ignore you soon enough.”
I hope she’s right.
All too soon, I’m back in the hallway on my way to another class. I hope I’m not imagining things when I notice less people staring at me. Maybe Sadie was right.
“This way,” Sadie says, walking toward the school’s front doors. “I want to show you this.”
We stop in front of the doors and she points to the wall on my right. There are a series of plaques on the wall numbered from one to twenty. On each plaque is a name.
“Donors?” I ask.
“Ranking,” she says. “Right now, Liam Drake is number one. Meaning, he’s the current front runner for the pass.”