Wuthering high: a bard academy novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

that there are two sets of dorms on campus for girls and boys, divided by age. Capulet (freshman/sophomore) and Macbeth (junior/senior) for girls, and Montague (freshman/sophomore) and Macduff (junior/senior) for boys. There are some particularly young-looking girls lingering on the steps of the Capulet dorm, and I wonder what they did to be shipped off to delinquent boarding school. I mean, when I was fourteen I barely got into trouble at all. Not to mention I made it more than halfway through the year after my fifteenth birthday before getting into trouble at all. I’m practically sixteen (March 25 — yes, I’m an Aries. Watch out). It dawns on me that there’s a chance (albeit remote) that I’ll be spending my birthday here. If that happens, I swear I will never speak to my parents again.
    Like all buildings on campus, Capulet has a pointed roof, and lots of gargoyles.
    “Cozy,” I say, staring up at the winged monster that’s sitting above the door.
    “I think it would make a good drinking game,” Hana says matter-of-factly. “See a gargoyle, take a drink.”
    “Around here that’s a way to get drunk in a hurry,” I say.
    “You’re down that way,” Hana says, pointing down the hall.
    “Oh, thanks,” I say, as a few white-faced Goths push past us. I feel a stab of disappointment. I’m not sure if I’m ready to wade back into the Sea of Freakdom. I liked the normalness of Hana.
    “See you around then,” she says, and disappears around the corner.
    The door to my room is open. It’s got no bathroom, and it’s only big enough for two single beds, a single dresser, two tiny closets, and two tiny desks — with lamps.
    My roommate has moved in already, and she’s decorated her side of the room in what appears to be a uniting theme of…Satan.
    She’s got demonic posters covering every inch of her side of the room, including a black pentacle, a giant picture of the Devil tarot card, and posters of Marilyn Manson. Her shelves are already lined with books about witchcraft, spells, and tarot readings. On her desk sits a life-size skull-shaped candle.
    Where did she get this stuff? Pottery Barn: The Hell-mouth Collection?
    I back out of the room slowly and double-check the number on the outside. Yeah, it’s room 216. This is my room, and it’s just gotten an Extreme Home Makeover by the Prince of Darkness.
    I take a look at the purple - and - pink–polka - dotted comforter under my arm, the Bed-in-a-Bag that Mom bought at Linens-N-Things, and think, I am not in Kansas anymore.
    My roommate (whose official name, according to my sign-in sheet, is “Jill Thayer”) uncurls herself from the bed. She’s got orange-and-black hair, which she’s wearing in pigtails, as well as four rings through her eyebrow, one through her nose, and a giant tattoo of a spider on her shoulder. She’s wearing enough black eyeliner to graffiti a 7-Eleven.
    “Um, hi?” I say, not sure what it is you’re supposed to say to a punk-Marilyn Manson-Satan worshiper.
    She holds up a notepad. She’s written on the page, “I have taken a vow of silence.”
    She flips the page and it says, “I am protesting my imprisonment against my will here and will not be speaking to you or anyone else.”
    I nod. Okay. She’s a Satan worshiper and she is freakin’ crazy. On the bright side, she’s not going to be making much noise.
    She flips the page: “P.S. Don’t touch my stuff.” I look around at the giant skull candle she’s got on her desk, her Satan poster, and the black-and-red quilt on her bed that is covered with pentagrams drawn in permanent marker. Yeah, I think there’s absolutely zero chance I’ll be touching any of her stuff.
    She hands me a printout of her MySpace profile.
NAME: Blade Thayer
TURNONS: Marilyn Manson, throwing things at little kids, weirdos, writing poetry, being handcuffed, witchcraft.
TURNOFFS: Liars, fakes, flakes, crazy bitches (that try to mess up your life ’cause they don’t have one), people