Immortal Consequences(22)
“Well, I doubt you’ll ever find that out,” Irene muttered under her breath with a snort.
Masika nudged her sharply with her elbow. “What Irene meant to say was…I hope one of us does.”
Liza smiled, though Masika could see the hurt lingering in her eyes. “I hope so too.”
Masika wanted to keep things cordial between her and Liza. There were benefits to befriending students from the other Houses. They could prove themselves useful.
There was Pettyworth, known for housing some of the most academically inclined yet stubbornly reclusive students. Litterman, with its notorious troublemakers and party animals （with the rare exception of Emilio）， housed students who tended to excel in illusionary magic. A basement connected Chambers and Fiddle, both of which housed students with an affinity for elemental magic—and a penchant for creating enchanted liquors and other elixirs. There was Ivory, of course, the dormitory that Masika and Irene lived in, known for its cutthroat, corporeal-inclined students and equally ostentatious décor. And lastly, Holsterd, the dormitory Liza belonged to, which was home to some of the best defensive magic students in the entire school.
Masika could still remember being placed in Ivory House. It had been her first evening in Blackwood and she had been sent to Headmaster Silas’s office for her initiation ritual. She had assumed it would be some ominous test—her mind conjuring up images of creepy occult practices and spooky ritualistic sacrifices. But when she arrived at the office, she had been handed a single candle and given simple instructions: Hold the candle in your hand and blow on the wick. When she placed her hand around the wax candle and blew softly, a bright purple flame burst from the wick, nearly singeing her eyebrows.
And that was it.
She was officially in Ivory House.
“Oh! Nick is flagging me down.” Liza’s voice pulled Masika back to the present. “I’m helping him set up with the rest of the Decennial Ball Committee.” She let out a squeal of excitement. “Have you two asked anybody yet?”
Masika glanced over Liza’s shoulder and spotted Nick Aronson out by the Library, his ash-blond hair ruffling in the wind. He wore his usual white shirt and dark-wash jean jacket, a messenger bag slung over his shoulder. He lifted his hand and offered them a cordial wave.
“Uh…no.” Masika let out an awkward chuckle. “And I don’t really know if I’m going—”
“Oh, we’re going.” Irene wrapped her arm around Masika’s shoulder. “I plan on drinking wine until I black out and then going skinny-dipping in the Main Yard fountain.”
Liza recoiled but quickly masked her disdain with a nervous smile. “Right…well…I’ll see you two at the opening ceremony!” She stepped past them. “And good luck with Calligan’s exam today!”
Masika watched Liza zigzag her way through the sea of bodies, her auburn ponytail swishing behind her. The second the crowd of bustling students swallowed her up, Irene let out a long and dramatic snore.
“Thank God. You know, I’ve met turnips more interesting than her.”
“You should give her a chance. Liza isn’t the worst friend to have around.”
Irene shrugged. “Who needs friends?”
Arguing was pointless. Irene was an impenetrable fortress of solitude and isolation. She kept her circle small. Practically nonexistent. In fact, Masika was probably her only real friend. If she could even call herself that. Honestly, the only thing that led Masika to believe Irene wasn’t completely devoid of feelings was the fact that she’d personally witnessed tiny cracks in her iron mask. Small glimmers of humanity lurking beneath the surface.
The moments of doubt. Of fear. Like the time Irene had come stumbling into Masika’s room in the middle of the night drenched in her own sweat, whimpering about her mother coming to get her. Masika had to coax her down for hours, brushing her damp hair out of her face until Irene slowly dozed off. She must have been sleepwalking, but even in her delirious state, she’d known where to go.
She had known to find her friend.
As they approached the wide stone steps that led to Ivory House, Masika spotted a figure lurking in the distance. Housemaster Violet was watching them from the porch, gloved hands clasped tightly over the iron railing and lips pursed in disapproval.
“Word spreads fast around here,” Irene whispered, averting her gaze to the ground.
“You think she knows?”
“Look at her. That’s a death stare if I’ve ever seen one. Looks like she’s eaten a lemon.”
Masika glanced up and winced. Violet’s eyes were two rusted blades piercing into her face. She definitely knew. And as they walked up the steps, Masika held her breath, silently preparing for their inevitable punishment.
“Good morning.” Violet regarded them with a subtle yet knowing nod. “Perhaps the two of you should go upstairs and freshen up for the day.”
“Freshen up?” Irene echoed. “That’s…it? You have nothing else to say to us?”
“I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” Violet brushed a strand of black hair away from her face and wrapped her brown tweed coat tightly over her chest. “Anyway, I’m off. Try not to get into too much trouble today, girls.” Her mouth lifted into a tight-lipped smile as she descended the steps and made her way toward the Main Yard.