Forevermore Read Online Free PDF Page A

admit, feeling childish.
    Emma grins. “Oh, yeah. Well, they’re kind of like … patrolmen. Serrus is our age, a Sixth Year, and he sort of helps keep the younger ones in hand. But he’s right.” She glances at her watch. “Better go to class. You can go in and see the headmistress. See ya ’round, aye?”
    I nod, grateful and relieved. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but Emma seems like she could be a friend.
    This gives me the confidence to enter the headmistress’s office. Ms. Worley is a welcoming middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and green eyes. While I sit in a chair across from her desk, she prints out my schedule and hands me a small map of the school hallways.
    “So tell me about yourself, Ivy,” she says as she walks me to my first class. She knows all the basics about me — where I’m from, where I’m living now — because Niall enrolled me in the school. “Do you play sports? Music?”
    I glance at her. “I play the violin.”
    She stops and looks at me. “Is that so?”
    Smiling, I nod. “Yes, ma’am. Since I was three.”
    Her eyes light up. “That is marvelous! We have extracurricular music on Thursdays in the afternoon. There’s also a grand music festival sponsored by the Strings of the Highlands in the spring. Only the elite are chosen to play, and there’s actually a contest for young violinists. Sir Malcolm Catesby will be judging, and the winner will be given a private lesson with him. ’Twould be a great opportunity for anyone looking to advance their music.”
    Excitement vibrates through me at the thought of playing at the festival, especially in front of Malcolm Catesby — a super-famous violinist.
    “Thank you, ma’am,” I say. “I look forward to finding out more.”
    And I mean it. Back home there weren’t as many opportunities like this. In fact, my violin teacher in Charleston usually chided me for playing music that was too unconventional, too weird. I wonder if here, people might be more open to something a little strange.
    My first class is biology, and the teacher, Mr. MacPherson, is pretty cool. But I have to concentrate hard on his accent to catch everything he says about the parts of a cell.
    Emma seems to have appointed herself as my personal tour guide, and finds me in the hallway after class. “Lubly jubly,” she says, glancing at my schedule. “We share the next three classes. Come on, then. Off to World History we go.” We move into the class and find seats next to each other near the center of the room. “Time to manage the Aztecs.”
    I don’t even mind sitting in class and taking notes — it feels ordinary. Familiar. Like I could almost be back inmy old school back home, far from the spooky castle and its eerie voices.
    I’m glad to have Emma close by when lunch rolls around. “Let’s go grab a sandwich and sit in the Common Room,” she suggests. I follow her lead as we make our way to a small, self-serve café. Back in Charleston, Callie and I would be waiting in the long lunch line for mushy mac and cheese. Here, Emma takes a mug of hot tea, an egg-salad sandwich, and a bag of chips. I grab the same, along with some shortbread that looks almost as good as what Jonas brought me the other night. Then we head to the Sixth Years’ Common Room and sit at a small table.
    “So, Glenmorrag Castle,” Emma says, tossing her long red curls over one shoulder. She stirs sugar into her tea. “Your mum married a MacAllister, aye? The laird?”
    “Yeah,” I answer. I bite into the soft sandwich, which is actually pretty good. “His name is Niall, and he’s … okay. I’ve only been here three days.” I don’t tell her about the spooky goings-on of the weekend. Instead, I tell her about life back in Charleston, and my violin playing. Emma tells me that she has a tin ear when it comes to playing music, but she’s also into retro ’80s stuff. She’s lived in Glenmorragall her life, and she’s an only child, too. I already feel at ease