As if the school couldn't get any creepier, there were gargoyles. Grotesque stone carvings of beasts mid-roar. She felt unsettled whenever she dared to look up at the towering spires they precariously balanced upon as silent guardians.

The quad wasn't where she had initially assumed it would be. She must have looked utterly lost because a security guard took pity on her.

He'd directed her to the other side of the school. She'd lugged the bags hung on her shoulders and arms under ribbed vaults that spanned high ceilings. Then, she had found the quad past a doorway with pointed arches and through another gigantic set of double doors.

The gigantic wooden doors were left ajar, and snow had dusted over the glossy ivory tiling. She could hear lots of people beyond, so she walked through them warily.

There was a wide staircase leading down of off-white stone. The Gothic school building was wrapped around the area in a U-shape. The paved stone that led to an impressive fountain covered in ice was the focal point of the ample space. It had been shovelled, and people appeared to congregate mainly on the four crossroad paths. Extensive gardens were frosted and covered in snow but must have been impressive during the rainy season.

She carefully descended the staircase, and the soles of her boots crunched against de-icing salt. The thudding of her suitcase drew a few curious gazes, but fortunately, no one else paid her much mind. Everyone was holding bags, and some chatted amongst themselves. Most people were alone, like her.

She meandered near a tree with a cast-iron fence. None of the students looked like delinquents—not that they had a specific look to them. She had been worrying the entire month of November, thinking she would be dealing with thugs and scary miscreants.

God, Estelle, stereotypical much?

She was being stared at. A girl standing alone with pin-straight brown hair pulled away from her face by a thick white headband gave her a sheepish smile and averted her gaze.

What had she done to end up here?

A few others stared at her. They all looked amused.

Stella was in a long enough jacket not to worry that her time of the month had started, and the day was way off anyway. But it had happened before, showing up to surprise her. Stress messed with her natural rhythms. That was what her doctor had told her anyway.

She was definitely freaking out at that moment.

Then she looked down.

The bear.

She hugged the teddy tighter against her chest, her stomach plummeting and her eyes burning with tears of humiliation. The giggling she could hear above the murmured conversations sounded oppressively loud to her ringing ears.

She would be known as the bear girl for the entire year.

Slinging the duffel off her shoulder, she pulled down the bursting zipper enough to stuff the bear inside. She tried but couldn't shove it all the way in and settled for allowing the light brown furry head to stick out. She hoisted the bag back onto her shoulder so the teddy was squashed against her back, hidden from sight.

"Can I have everyone's attention!"

A girl in uniform stood on the fountain's wide edge, holding a clipboard. More uniformed students were sitting on the cold stone with the icy water to their backs, and a few stood near her.

She must have been chilly in the school's dark tweed jacket with red edging. The red bowtie peeked from the collar. Her pleated red and grey plaid skirt reached slightly above her knees. She was pretty. The black socks she wore to cover her shins couldn't have been thick enough to keep back the cold from the lightly falling snow that speckled her long blonde hair braided down her back.

She waited for everyone's attention to fall on her, tapping one of her Mary Janes against the stone. Once everyone quieted, she addressed the crowd, "Hello everyone. My name is Viviana Erickson. I am the head of the student committee and have been elected student president for the last three years."

She had a hoity-toity smugness to the bob her head took as if she were impressed by her words. Her smile was bright, but it was obviously plastered because her blue eyes were devoid of warmth.

"First of all, before we begin, we would like to welcome you all to Richardson Academy. Second, our headmistress, Mrs. Susana, could not attend introductions today because of unforeseen—"

"Come on, Viv," a boy with his shoulders hunched and hands stuck in the pockets of his uniformed jacket grumbled, "we're freezing our butts off out here. Hurry it up." Snow clung to his styled brown hair. "We didn't bring our jackets because you said this would be quick."

The other uniformed students appeared to be just as cold, and a few nodded in agreement.

Viviana glared at the boy, and then someone coughed in the crowd. Her bright smile was back, faker than ever. "Oh..." She laughed. "Emery is right. I'm sure you all want to get settled in as fast as possible." Her blue eyes swept the crowd. "I'll call out a name. Please come forward, and then you'll be paired with your buddy. They'll help you find your way and mentor you. You'll feel right at home. Normally, we'd pair girls with girls and boys with boys, but this year, we don't have an equal number to match everyone. Thank you for understanding."

She looked at the clipboard. "Penelope Dalloway!"

A girl with curly, light-brown hair and a bag slung over each shoulder moved forward. Her bronze corduroy pants were covered in snow.

Viviana smiled brightly at her. "You're paired with Sarah Olivia."

There was an awkward exchange as Sarah shook Penelope's hand while her plaid skirt rustled in the wintry breeze. Then, Sarah helped Penelope with her bags, guiding her down the left pathway towards the warmth of the school.

It continued like this for a while. A new student was called and paired off with a uniformed, seasoned student, and they went on their merry way to enjoy warmth and awkward company.

Then, Viviana shouted, "Estelle Hazelwood!"

Stella moved forward, the wheels of her suitcase rolling on the pavement and drawing attention to her. Don't slip was her mantra as she stopped near the fountain. When she looked around and saw everyone staring at her, it became, don't vomit.

Viviana glanced up from the clipboard, and the fake light of her smile faded. "You're paired with Broderick Winslow."

Uniformed students glanced amongst themselves when no one stepped up to claim her. She heard a few murmurs questioning where Brodie was, and a few people laughed.

Emery gave Viviana's withering glare a shrug.

That's it; Stella was getting on the next train home.

Viviana said to Stella, "Oh, Estelle. Brodie—Broderick—must have forgotten today was...today. We can—"

A curse caused Viviana to look up sharply. Two uniformed boys had begun fighting. Stella backed away.

"No!" Viviana shouted. "Emery!"

The crowd of students burst with new energy. Someone screamed, laughter erupted, and a few people began whooping.

A blonde boy was grasping the back of another boy's jacket as he kneed him in the face. They were grunting and growling. People were trying to pull them off of each other.

Emery rolled his eyes but sauntered over to the pair laying into each other with such ferocity that Stella's stomach lurched.

Viviana's sweet tone shifted to a roar. "Leo! Charlie! No! Not today! Not orientation!" She stomped her feet and whimpered, "Daniel!"

A boy with fair hair that Stella assumed was Daniel neared Viviana. He began to reach out, but Viviana smacked the side of his head with the clipboard.

Daniel cowered. "I know, baby. I know. I'm sorry."

Stella had enough.

She pushed through the crowd and wheeled her suitcase down the pathway to the left, where she'd seen the buddies take the girls, which most likely meant the female dorms were that way. She would figure out the way herself.

And if not, she would choose a nice, quiet corner to expire.

It wasn't like she hadn't seen a fight before. But that was different. Those boys weren't hurting each other to make a point; they wanted to cause lasting damage to one another. She saw blood in the snow. It had been ferocious.

Once inside, pleasant warmth greeted her, but the relief wasn't enough to quell her nerves. The ribbed vaults matched the high ceilings she'd passed when she entered the quad.

She passed under a pointed archway with stone filigree while searching for signs to point her in the right direction. A husky voice came from higher up.

"You're going the wrong way."

Stella nearly had a heart attack when a boy pounced from above. A small scream tore from her throat as she flinched and dropped her bags. Her back hit the curved archway.

Okay. He hadn't pounced at her. It had been a soft drop onto the ivory tiling. But her heart didn't care for particulars. She clutched her jacket, where an ache in her chest lingered from her pounding heartbeat.

Her attacker had his hands in the pockets of a thin black windbreaker, with white wired headphones dangling from the collar. He looked ready to hit the gym in grey track pants and laced runners. He was smiling at her expense, which pulled the deep cut on his bottom lip taut. His face was a painting of purple, blue, and black bruising. His warm blonde hair was slightly curly, with pieces nearly touching his eyes—those were a lovely light bronze similar to the toffee her father used to adore.

Her stomach lurched. Had she just waltzed into the territory of someone dangerous? Maybe he had claimed this archway, and she would have to give him a riddle to pass, or he would leave her beaten bloody.

When he took his hands from his pockets and bent to grasp the strap of her duffle bag that had fallen on its side near her feet, she didn't see any splits on his knuckles that would indicate a fight had caused his injuries. The skin was pink there, however. He had fought. Just not recently.

"Crap," Stella said shakily. "You, uh, scared me. You came out of nowhere."

"Sorry."

He didn't look sorry. He looked amused.

Glancing up, she could see a thick length of stone running beside the stained-glass window overhead. Shadowed and near the archway, concealed unless one scrutinized the stonework. It would have been a good place to hide and watch the quad below.

"Uh, thanks." Stella took the duffel's thick strap he offered to her. She slipped the bag back over her shoulder.

Before she could stop him, he plucked the bear peeking from the unfastened zipper.

She tried to snatch the bear with quickening breaths, but it was held out of her reach. Her cheeks were hot, made hotter by the smirk she received from the blonde boy.

He didn't begin making fun of her. He did worse, squeezing the teddy while sucking his lower lip between his teeth pensively.

"Hazelwood," he said huskily. He neared her, and she had nowhere to go except to press harder against the stone of the archway at her back. His whisper dropped his naturally deep voice to a soft rumble, "Are you smuggling contraband in this bear?"

Crap. This was bad.

Stella tried to snatch the bear, but he quickly moved it out of her reach. She didn't want to climb a stranger to wrestle the teddy from his grasp, so she resigned herself to holding his mirthful gaze and trying to convey confidence. She was probably green in the face from her growing urge to vomit, burning her esophagus.

"How did you know my last name?"

He didn't reply immediately, focusing on the bear as his fingers smoothed away well-loved light-brown fur to reach the silver gleam of a zipper on the teddy's back. "I was watching the orientation. Sound travels." He paused and smiled at her, hastening her heart. There was no warmth in his eyes. "Well, Viviana's voice travels. She's a shrew."

Stella didn't know Viviana well enough to speak on her behalf, but she felt put out that this stranger was touching her things, which made her stupid mouth blurt out, "She's nice."

He laughed while dragging the bear's zipper down. "Beneath their smiles, so sweetly adorned, lie hearts of frost, all truth forsworn." As if he hadn't just mused poetry in a husky voice, making her blush profusely, he pulled the lapels of the bear's back wide open. "Oh! This bear has hardly any fluff. How tragic."

"Lower your voice," Stella pleaded.

To her relief, he zipped the teddy back up. "You're lucky I came across you."

She highly doubted that.

"They are going to inspect your bag," he explained casually, tucking the bear under his bicep. "They would have opened this adorable guy right up. Last year, Benjamin Stamford—" He made a crude gesture with two fingers.

"He didn't," Stella hissed.

"Yes. Right up there. I don't recommend you attempt it. I've heard he's traumatized. The school nurse and security had to hold him down." He frowned deeply. "Thanks to Benjamin, now they don't play around."

Stella paled. "They don't check... regularly?"

He smirked and bent a little closer. His tone was so low she could hear his soft breath rise above his husky whisper, "No, but if they find you with this guy, you'll probably be checked everywhere. Get my meaning?"

"Crap," Stella whispered. "I'll get rid of it." She tried grabbing the bear, but it was kept out of her reach again. "Come on. They probably have cameras. Give it to me."

"They don't check the cameras unless they have a reason to. I'll take this bear and hide it for you. There are ways to ensure the inspections don't come up with anything."

"Why would you help me?"

"You're my mentee. I have a duty."

Stella's shoulders slumped. "You're Broderick?"

"Broderick," he mimicked dramatically deep and laughed a little. He was unfettered by the glare she gave him now that she knew he was the one who left her in the cold, literally, and utterly humiliated. "Broderick is a fifty-year-old man on his second wife who says sir and madam. Eats brunch at an empty table for twelve. He has horrible breath but won't listen to anyone when they tell him so. He only drinks merlot for the taste. The taste!" He sighed heavily. "Did I mention he smells like candles?"

Stella gnawed at her lip, smiling reluctantly. "He sounds..."

"Atrocious," he finished gravelly, laughing through his nose when she giggled. He smiled warmly. "Brodie's fine. He has nicer breath. Never speaks politely. Has never been married. Hardly drinks—"

"And smells like cologne?" Stella's cheeks tingled. She couldn't help but smile widely. This conversation was getting ridiculous, but she felt close to ordinary for the first time since boarding that plane early that morning.

"Exactly." Brodie took one of the wired headphones hanging over the collar of his jacket and placed it in his ear. "You're going to do great here."

He backed away, and Stella's happy expression faltered.

"Don't hang around the civics building," Brodie told her. "Oh! Stay away from the big oak tree near—" He waved his hand dismissively, chuckling fondly. "You'll figure it out." He turned on his heel with the other wired headphone between his fingers.

Stella's eyes widened. "Hey! Get back here!"

He waved at her. "See you around!"

"I don't know where the dorms are!"

Brodie swivelled on his heels and kept walking backward, his runners echoing in the quiet, tapping against the ivory tiling. The bear was kept tight under his arm. The fuzzy head was squashed.

"For though the path is mine to make, and countless times I'll bend or break, each stumble shapes, each scar refines the strength to claim this path as mine." He pointed at her. "I believe in you, Hazelwood! You can do anything!"

"Stop quoting poetry!"

He gave her a two-finger salute as he turned away and stuck the other dangling headphone in his ear. He either had music drowning out her voice or ignored her shouts for him to turn his butt around and come back.

He was supposed to be her buddy, and he abandoned her.

Then, a realization hit her that caused her blood to boil with rage. The urge to scream crept up her throat, but she held it back with violent fantasies of what she was going to do to him the next time they crossed paths.

He just stole her weed!