Page 3 of Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals 1)

Me: Yes.

Unknown: Watch out.

I shiver and slam my phone back on the nightstand, facedown. It buzzes again, but I ignore it and crawl into bed. I block out the texts and the hunger, closing my eyes.

Sleep takes a while to come back. Before I know it, my alarm is going off.

Robert intercepts me on my way to the bathroom. “Coffee and breakfast downstairs.” He’s already dressed. “Did Lenora show you the uniform? It’s hanging in the closet. The white shirt and dark skirt or pants.”

I nod, not quite awake enough to speak, and fumble my way to the bathroom. I brush my hair back, braiding it with quick and nimble fingers. And then my face… mascara and concealer to hide the dark circles under my eyes, a shade of pink lip stain on my full lips. I practice smiling in the mirror.

It falls short. I can’t keep the tremble out of my hands.

I add eyeliner.

I get dressed quickly, sliding on my boots, and meet Robert downstairs. He slides a mug of coffee at me, and I smile at him.

“Figured getting up this early is hard enough without caffeine,” he says.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll get your classes squared away first. Hopefully you’ll just miss homeroom, and we’ll get one of the kids to give you a tour.”

I nod. “Okay.”

We eat cereal in silence. We ride to the school in silence. It’s a bigger building down the street from the elementary and middle schools, and it looms like a castle at the end of the road. My stomach is a ball of nerves.

“I figure I’ll be giving you rides every morning,” Robert says. “And we can meet at the car after. If you want to do any sort of sport or after-school activity, that’s fine. Lenora or I can arrange how we want to handle the pickup. But don’t feel restricted, okay?”

“Right.”

I make the mistake of glancing at my phone as we walk up the steps to the front door. There’s the text from last night still sitting on my lock screen, and I don’t even have to open it to read its message.

Unknown: You’ll regret it.

I shiver.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Alarming texts from an anonymous person, hours after my arrival? That’s a fast way to get kicked out of a good home. When things seem too weird, some parents bail.

I don’t blame them. I’d bail, too. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to run home and tuck myself back in bed and throw my phone in the trash. If only I had a home.

Robert shows me to the office and introduces me to one of the guidance counselors.

She looks at me funny, squinting, then waves me into the office. “Margo Wolfe? Come with me.”

I perch on the chair next to her desk, watching her type.

“You have a lot of different schools on your record,” she says in a mild voice. “Why is that?”

“I’m a foster. Some homes didn’t work out.”

“Robert and Lenora are good friends.” She’s still typing, her nails clacking against the keys. “We were a little worried about them taking in a teenager, but…”

My eye twitches.

“You’re going to behave, right?”