Crossroads (Crossroads Academy #1) Read online

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  “So much for enjoying the quiet life,” I sigh, shutting off my favorite iTunes playlist, which includes my new band of choice, Vs. the Earth. Apparently solitude sucks when you’re trapped in a 20 x 20 dorm room. I decide to take a walk and finish exploring the grounds before dinner. I’ve already exhausted the options within my room and have successfully rummaged through all of the drawers and cabinets to get a lay of the land. I’ve also discovered that Crossroads has some sort of housekeeping staff. The bed I left a twisted mess this morning is now perfectly made, and the wet towel I threw carelessly on the bathroom floor has been collected and no doubt whisked away for washing. I’ll have to be more considerate in the future, I think. I left the room a mess this morning in my haste to get to class.

  Might as well see what else Aldo has in store. I pull the key ring Anya gave me yesterday from my shoulder bag and decide to check out the garage. The key ring has a tag indicating the vehicles’ position in the garage. It’s the same as my room number so it will be easy to remember and even easier to find. As I stare at the key, I have a pretty good idea of what I can expect to find, and I’m not disappointed when I arrive.

  The garage is a cavernous gray metal building that was designed to be functional rather than aesthetically pleasing. The exterior has none of the charm of the main building. I enter through the front door and flip on the lights. I’m greeted by rows and rows of cars, most of them luxury models. No surprise there. The air reeks of motor oil and rubber although the cement floors are spotless, save for the yellow traffic signals painted on them. Using the overhead signs for guidance, I locate spot 139 and give a low whistle when I see the vehicle occupying the slot. It’s beyond wicked!

  The car is a black Audi TTS Coupe, and it’s a thing of beauty. A quick inspection reveals deeply tinted windows and a 5-speed transmission. After disabling the alarm and sliding into the supple leather drivers’ seat, I decide it’s best to think of the car as a loaner. Never in a million years did I think I’d ever own a car like this, and it’s less overwhelming to think of it as borrowed. I slip the key into the ignition and can’t help but smile as the car roars to life. I’d love to take it for a spin, but first I’d better check the rules for leaving campus with Anya. While I know I have privileges, I’m certain they come with strings. Doesn’t everything?

  I turn on the radio and begin to deftly search for alternative stations. The car’s even got satellite radio, which I figure is probably a lifesaver being this far from civilization. There probably aren’t a lot of great stations out here in the mountains.

  After programming my favorites I shut the car off and drag myself back to the real world. I’m drawn to the vehicle like a moth to a flame and find myself caressing the hood gently, compelled to run my hands over it one more time before I go. I’ve always loved the freedom of an open road, and this car is meant for driving. At least now I’ve got something to look forward to other than homework.

  Next stop on my tour de Crossroads are the stables. According to my map it’s not far from the garages, and a glance at my watch tells me that I can probably afford to do a bit more investigating before dinner. I’d read that the campus has an impressive fleet of horses, but I’ve never really been around equine before and don’t know much about riding. Perhaps this will be another challenge to fill my hours here at Crossroads.

  I follow the stone path from the garage to the stables and again find myself admiring the beauty of the campus. The vegetation here is more natural than that along the driveway, and there are no roses to be found. Thick evergreen trees provide lush cover for the campus, and I’m enveloped in the scents of late summer, as I walk alongside them. The aromas of fresh cut grass and wild berries abound and I inhale deeply enjoying the intoxicating vitality of it all. I sense the forest is alive with activity this afternoon. My ears pick up the sounds of the wildlife with ease, and I try to identify the animals within based solely on these audible clues. I’d read that Vermont is home to moose, gray wolves, and black bears among other smaller, less challenging game. I doubt any animal with a strong sense of self-preservation would venture too close to the school with both the Pazitor and the student body underfoot. I encounter two of the guardians on the trail. Like the guards from last night, they are broad shouldered and their faces are hard and uninviting. I don’t bother to say hello and they don’t bother to acknowledge my presence, forcing me off of the path to let them pass. They appear to be patrolling the perimeter. Too bad.

  What I wouldn’t give to be on the hunt tonight with a full moon in the sky. Another activity that I’m quite sure is not allowed. Back in Romania, hunting with Aldo was one of my favorite things to do. He’d taught me to move silently and to kill swiftly, respecting the passing of a life that would prolong my own. Above all else, the thirst has taught me to respect life. I stare longingly into the forest, wishing to catch a glimpse of the wildlife beyond its borders.

  Compared to the temptation of the forest, the stables are anti-climatic. They’re made of red pine and look like just about every stable I’ve ever seen on TV. I push aside the large sliding door and let myself in. I wander by the stalls not the least bit deterred by the disgruntled cries of the animals inside as I invade their space. I drift quietly from one stall to the next admiring the inhabitants. I don’t know much about horses, but these creatures appear impressive by any standard. Like my own species, no two are the same. They come in different colors and sizes and are painted with a variety of markings. I suppose they’re different breeds. Some appear smaller and lighter, better suited to long runs and great speeds, while others are large and sturdy, their power evident in the taught muscles of their legs and chests.

  I’m intrigued to find that there is a trainer in the corral outside and approach quietly hoping to observe and perhaps learn something about these animals. I’m bummed to discover that, today, I’m not the only observer. There is a girl sitting on the fence post watching. I avoid making eye contact and go directly to the corral. I place my forearms through the sturdy metal railings allowing the gate to support my weight as I lean in for an unobstructed view.

  The boy is good with the animal. I watch for several minutes admiring their unspoken communication. He moves swiftly, guiding it with gestures that I’ve no doubt the creature understands. After a few simple tricks and a trot around the ring, he mounts the horse and leads it through a series of marches finishing up with an impressive leap over the back wall of the corral, leaving myself and the other spectator in the dust.

  “He’s showing off now,” the girl laughs, descending lightly from her perch to my right. She’s positively tiny, and I feel like a giant towering over her. She might be 5’1 on a good day. Scratch that. She might be 5’1 on a really good day— with heels. Her gray eyes are warm and friendly, and when she grins it lights up her whole face. She’s got one of those radiant smiles that shows all of her teeth and not a trace of self-doubt. Although her clothes are oddly out of date, her short black hair is cut at a stylish angle so that the front brushes her shoulders. “Keegan is a very gifted trainer, but sometimes he gets a little full of himself. I’m Shaye by the way.”

  “Katia.”

  “Welcome to Crossroads. How do you like our illustrious school so far?” She crosses her arms over her chest and leans one shoulder casually into the fence post as she waits for my take on the school.

  “It’s… different,” I reply carefully. That’s true at least. Probably best to avoid lying since I’ve been striking out with my attempts at deception this week.

  “A little different than what you’re used to?” she returns softly. She’s got a gentle way about her; she’s probably always been shy.

  “You could say that.” Her assessment couldn’t be closer to the truth. How could she possibly know? Duh. She’s probably commenting on the rumors that have been circulating all day, trailing me through the halls and apparently out to the stables.

  “It gets better. Just give it time
. And don’t let the politics get you down. This place is overrun with gossip. In fact, I’d say our cup runneth over with bullshit,” she finishes emphatically with a mischievous grin. I notice that her smile extends all the way to her eyes, crinkling the corners even as she begins to laugh at her own joke. There’s nothing fake or pretentious hiding behind her laughter.

  Shaye’s directness makes me laugh out loud, and I decide instantly that I like this girl. Finally someone who says what they really mean and who doesn’t seem to care about pedigree. Too bad I don’t really have time for friends. Shaye might actually be one of the good ones. “I need to get back and clean up before dinner,” I tell her by means of escape. “Nice meeting you.”

  “See you around.”