Long train rides, to me, had always felt a little bit like slipping out of reality.

There was something about the smooth glide of the wheels on the rails and the monotonous hum of the engine, the way there was nothing interesting to focus on except the landscape outside and the bored faces of other passengers, that made it so easy to get lost in my fantasy.

All I had to do was close my eyes and I was in another time, another place, another one of those lives I had lived vicariously through the pages of some tattered paperback. I could be a young farm girl on her way into the city for the first time. Or maybe a detective on his way to a small town where he would investigate a mysterious murder. Or maybe some aristocrat's daughter sent off to marry an unknown spouse—a noblewoman, of course, because although I had a vivid imagination, it wasn't that creative—the ambient noise of the train morphing into the rattling of a carriage across cobblestones in my mind.

It was all there, a whole world inside my head in which to immerse myself, and once I got bored of it, I could simply dive into the next one.

That was, unless the train came to a stop.

Right now, it stood in a train station somewhere in the middle of nowhere, the doors open to spit out people whose travel ended here. I blinked open my eyes and stifled a yawn behind my hand as I looked out at the platform, watching as people kissed their loved ones good-bye or hello while others strolled off alone.

Not many passengers were left around me and the announcement about the train's departure that crackled through the speakers led me to the conclusion that no one else would be getting on—until a boy suddenly skidded inside, his large suitcase almost getting stuck between the closing doors.

He turned around, swearing under his breath when the duffel bag he had slung across his shoulder got caught on one of the seats. After heaving his suitcase into the overhead carrier, he slumped down on a seat on the left-hand side, level with where I was sitting. His third piece of luggage, a large backpack that looked like it was stuffed full to the very top, he placed on the seat next to him. Only then did he release a relieved exhale, one hand coming up to brush aside the strands of unruly brown hair that had fallen into his eyes. After what I assumed had to be an impressive sprint to the train platform, there was a bright flush that spread from his pale cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears.

The train left the station with a steadily increasing rumbling sound, the landscape outside turning into a blur of browns and greens once again, the sky a steely gray that promised rain. I hoped that it would wait until I reached my destination.

My destination. So far, I had managed to distract myself from the looming unknown, but now, with nightfall fast approaching and only a few stations left until the train would reach it, an anticipatory shiver ran down my spine.

Luckily, a loud rustling sound ripped me out of my thoughts before panic truly set in. In the reflection of the window, I could see the boy digging around in his backpack until he finally pulled out a paperback book. A quiet gasp tore free from my throat when I recognized the cover: a train driving down snowy train tracks, headlights cutting through the night.

In the deserted carriage, the noise was loud enough to make the boy look up, shooting me a confused glance. His bewilderment seemed to ease when his eyes drifted down to the book I was balancing in my lap, my train ticket serving as a bookmark after I had put it down an hour ago—a similarly tattered copy of Agatha Christie's Murder on the Orient Express.

His lips quirked into the hint of a smile. "Good book, huh?"

"It's one of my favorites," I said. I was silent for a moment but then, because I hadn't had anyone to talk to in over five hours, much less anyone my age who also happened to read, I asked, "What chapter are you on?"

"Chapter five. But I've already read it a hundred times, so . . ."

"Me too."

His smile widened. "Nice." He hesitated for a moment before he lifted his backpack, previously acting as a barricade between us, and slid over to the seat closer to the aisle. "So . . . is this your first year at Seven Hills?"

My heart skipped a beat at the name I had previously tried to block out. "How do you know I'm going there?"

"You look about seventeen, meaning you're the right age to be a student. You're carrying a lot of luggage, indicating you might have packed for a pretty long stay." He pointed up at the two suitcases occupying the overhead carriers. "And finally, there are only two more stops. The next one is in some small village, so it's unlikely that you'll get off there. That leaves only the last stop, which happens to be within walking distance of the school."

"All right, Sherlock," I laughed. "You're right, it's my first year. What about you?"

"Me too."

I was more relieved than I cared to show. The prospect of having to enter the school all alone had been terrifying, to say the least, so this was a lovely turn of events.

Leaning into the aisle, I stretched out a hand. "I'm Evelyn."

He shook my hand with a grin, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "Seth. Seth Williams."

"You're not from around here, are you?"

It took no deduction skill to be able to tell that; his thick Northern accent was hard to mistake.

"No," he laughed. "I'm from Manchester. You?"

"Leicester."

Outside a light drizzle had begun, raindrops trailing down the windows and blurring the landscape behind them. The carriage's overhead lights flickered a little.

Seth was still studying me, his head cocked slightly to the side. "Why did your parents want to get rid of you?"

"They didn't want to get rid of me." In fact, that had been exactly what my mom had said: Sweetheart, it's not like we want to get rid of you. We just think that a change of scenery would be nice, don't you think? "I didn't exactly like my last school."

"I see," he said slowly. "No heart-wrenching sob story there? You just wanted to go?"

"Yes." I changed the subject. "Why do you ask? Are your parents forcing you?"

"They got divorced over the summer and didn't know what to do with me. Said that I could come back around Christmas if everything is sorted out by then." The dark expression clouding his face mirrored the gloomy weather outside. "It's a bloody shit show, the whole thing."

"I'm sorry."

Seth shrugged, but there was a tension in his shoulders that contradicted the casual gesture. "It's not your fault. Just sucks that I'm away from my sister."

"Is she too young to go to Seven Hills?"

"No, we're twins. But I got held back in primary school, so she's going to uni already." He was silent for a moment, chewing on his thumb. Finally, he looked at me again and asked, "Did you visit Seven Hills beforehand?"

I nodded. "They had an open house earlier this summer that my parents and I went to. Why, have you not been there before?"

"No. Everything was pretty . . . spontaneous," he murmured.

In hopes of calming him, I said, "I was only there for an hour, but it looked nice. The castle is lovely, and the teachers seemed really friendly."

Seth didn't seem convinced, his expression only darkening when a female voice announced the train's final destination, Gloomswick, just then. With a groan, he shoved his copy of Murder on the Orient Express into his backpack.

While carefully storing mine away, I said, "Maybe it won't be so bad. Who knows, Seven Hills might even be fun?"

Seth's snort gave away his opinion on that statement. "Right. I'm sure everyone at this posh private boarding school is going to be dead funny. I'm buzzing for it."

The train rocked to a stop before I could reply. After Seth helped me get my luggage from the overhead carrier (this boy was tall), we stepped out onto the platform. He swore quietly when a cold gust of wind took a hold of us, tearing at our clothes and whipping rain into our faces.

Gripping tighter onto my suitcases, I glanced around the train station. It consisted of nothing but the platform we were standing on and a small brick building where you could purchase tickets during the day, with a map of Gloomswick mounted on the wall next to the door. The small town slumbered at the feet of the hills that gave the school its name, but covered in a blanket of woods and with night falling, it was hard to see all seven.

Together, we left the train station and took off on a road that led right into the woods. Streetlamps stood every few yards or so, illuminating the road but not the forest, which seemed to edge closer to us from both sides. I kept throwing wary glances into the woods every time I heard a creak or a snap, but there was nothing to be seen except shadows and even darker shadows.

"You would think this rich-ass school would have some sort of shuttle to get us there," Seth grumbled.

"Probably part of the discipline thing they're all about," I chuckled. We were walking uphill, and I was out of breath already. "This is just the first endurance test."

Seth's only response was a stream of colorful swear words as he pulled his hood farther over his face. Keeping my head down, I dragged my two suitcases along with me. My left shoulder was hurting from the heavy bag slung over it, the strap digging into it, and the rain was soaking through my clothes to the point where they clung to my body like a second skin.

Lightning flickered across the sky, followed by deafening thunder that made us both jump. The rain fell even heavier now and I dimly worried about the books in my backpack, when Seth suddenly let out an incredulous laugh.

"Are these the gates of heaven?"

Blinking against the rain clinging to my eyelashes, I raised my head enough to see what he was talking about. Seven Hills was an old castle with protruding alcoves and sprawling turrets that reached into the night sky, the windows in them a hundred unblinking eyes watching us warily as we neared the entrance. On the mild summer day I had come here with my parents, the building had looked enchanted with its arched doorway and the ivy climbing its stone facade; however, with the thunder roaring in the distance and lightning tearing through the sky behind it, right now it just looked haunted.

"Lovely, you said?" Seth grimaced. "This looks a little less Hogwarts and a lot more Dracula than I expected."

"Let's just go inside," I said, my teeth chattering.

"Do you want to go first, or . . . ?"

"Oh, I'm good."

With a sigh, Seth reluctantly walked up the steps leading up to the front door and pushed down on the handle. He made a surprised noise when it swung open just like that, luckily without the scary creaking sound I had already braced myself for.

Instead of the gloomy vault the outside of the castle suggested, the hall in front of us was drenched in the warm glow of a chandelier hanging overhead. The stone walls were covered in certificates from several sports tournaments Seven Hills had won and photos hung in golden frames, each one showing widely grinning teenagers from all different decades. There were large doors on each end of the hall that led to the different wings of the building, and then there were two flights of stairs leading to the first floor.

I nudged Seth when I spotted the figure descending the stairs on the left, but he had already seen her. With ginger hair that shone like copper in the chandelier's light, the girl was hard not to notice.

"There you finally are!" she said as she reached the end of the stairs. "Mrs. Whitworth was already worried you'd gotten lost on the way."

The way she carried herself, with an air of confidence and authority that was almost tangible, contradicted the look of her face, which, with soft features and a splatter of freckles, seemed no older than seventeen. Her gray eyes studied us appraisingly when she came to a stop in front of us.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," I said apologetically. "Are you supposed to give us the tour?"

"Yes, I am," she said. "My name is Amelia Campbell, head of the student council, and captain of our cheerleading team. First of all: Welcome to Seven Hills International School for Boys and Girls. We are happy to welcome you to our community."

She paused for a second as if waiting for an answer but continued before either of us could open our mouths. "Community is the most valued thing at this school, as you probably gathered from our website. You two are welcome, and even encouraged, to join one of our clubs or sports teams. It is important to get involved and contribute to our school's success and reputation."

Seth shot me a pained look that echoed his earlier statement about the dead funny private school students.

"With that said, let's get into the rules." Amelia flipped through the papers on her clipboard. "You are not allowed to leave school grounds without notifying a teacher. You must wear your school uniform and stick to the dress code. This is just another factor in establishing a community. Boys are not allowed to be in the girls' wing and vice versa. Intimate relationships are not encouraged."

"Bit heteronormative, isn't it?" Seth said, quiet enough that only I could hear him.

Amelia continued without taking notice. "You need to attend every meal in the cafeteria. If you are ill, you must see the nurse and either go to classes or remain in bed according to her judgment. Bedtime is at ten o'clock to ensure peak performance."

There was a meaningful pause. "Any breaches of these rules will be punished with community service at our school or, in the worst case, expulsion. Are there any questions?"

"What are we actually allowed to do?" Seth asked.

"You are allowed to study and serve the school's community, as I previously stated. That is the sole purpose of Seven Hills, and hopefully the reason you are here."

"Um . . . sure."

"Fantastic," Amelia replied and handed us a few papers. "Here is some information regarding the dress code and possible clubs or teams you might consider joining. Now, I will take you, Evelyn, to your room in the girls' wing. Seth, you will wait here—your roommate, Gabe, should be here at any moment to bring you to your room and help you settle in."

Seth didn't look happy at the prospect of being left alone here, but nodded.

I reached out and lightly squeezed his arm. "See you at breakfast tomorrow?"

His expression brightened a little bit at that. "It's a date."

"Hurry, Evelyn!" Amelia called, already climbing the stairs. "Bedtime is less than twenty minutes away, and we still need to get you settled in. You do not want to break the rules your first night here, do you?"

"Of course not," I murmured. Seth chuckled quietly behind me.

Amelia either didn't hear me or didn't pick up on the sarcasm. Instead, she wordlessly led me up the stairs and down a narrow corridor with tall windows that looked out onto the front yard, the thick red carpet swallowing the sound of our footsteps. Glancing over my shoulder, I could see the wet footprints I was leaving behind and hoped that Amelia didn't notice them. She seemed like the kind of person who would notice if anything was out of step, maybe fine me for an infraction I didn't even know existed.

At the end of that corridor, we climbed another flight of stairs where I struggled with all my luggage.

When Amelia suddenly spoke, it wasn't to offer help, but to say, "Evelyn, I do have to warn you about something."

"What is it?" I asked, almost tripping over my suitcases as I tried to keep up with her.

"Your roommate . . . let me phrase it like this: she is not easy."

"What do you mean?"

"She is impossibly rude and does not care about anyone else other than herself and that boy, Jasper, that she's always with. Fact is, all of the girls she's shared a room with moved out within a few weeks. But I am sure you will last longer than that," she said. "Let us hope so, at least. There is no other girl at this school that would volunteer to move in with Noelle Daniels. Everyone is rather . . . intimidated by her."

"Intimidated?" I laughed. "I'm sure she can't be that bad."

Amelia spared me another, almost pitying look before she said, "See for yourself. This is your room."

With that, she pushed a key into my palm and pointed at the door at the end of the corridor. I hesitantly closed my fingers around the cool metal and walked past her, raising a hand to knock. When a few seconds had passed and no answer came, I inserted the key and turned it slowly, surprised when the lock only opened with a click after a second turn.

The room behind the door was almost exactly like I had imagined. The walls were bare stone, the floor a dark wood marred with scratches and dents left there by decades of girls. Two beds, two drawers, and two desks with one chair each occupied the two halves of the room. The left side was obviously taken by the other girl, books and magazines scattered all over her desk and clothes lying on the unmade bed.

Only after I had taken all of this in did my eyes fall on her. Noelle Daniels was sitting in the window, one foot standing on the sill, the other dangling outside like she had a death wish.

Her skin was a rich brown that, illuminated by the lamp on her desk, glowed golden, but that was all I could tell about her: the springy dark curls falling into her face made it impossible for me to see her features as she lifted the cigarette between her fingers to her lips, and she didn't react to the door opening. Sitting by the open window with lightning flashing and rain pouring behind her, unimpressed and unblinking, she looked like an avenging angel.

Only when Amelia cleared her throat behind me did Noelle turn her head. In a voice that was deeper than I had expected, she said, "What is it, Amanda?"

"Amelia. My name is Amelia. You know that," Amelia hissed and pushed past me. "Oh my God, is that a cigarette?"

"No, Amanda. Why would you think that?" Noelle flicked ashes onto the windowsill.

"Put that out right this second, Daniels. Your new roommate is here. Can't you at least pretend to be interested?"

"I suppose I could, couldn't I?" she mused, glancing my way. Suddenly overly conscious of my soaked state, I crossed my arms in front of my chest, aware that my hair was matted across my forehead and I was dripping onto the hardwood floor. In anyone else's face, Noelle's chocolate brown eyes, framed by long lashes, would have looked warm and comforting; however, as they slowly raked me up and down, a shiver that had nothing to do with the gust of cold air blowing through the open window ran down my spine.

Surprisingly, Noelle was the first one to look away, but the expression on her face made it clear the reason wasn't that I had beat her in the staring contest—she had simply lost interest. Lazily waving a hand in my direction, she said, "You know, there is a question I have. What the fuck is she doing here?"

"She lives here with you now. Didn't you hear me?"

"Not what I meant, Amanda. I remember clearly telling Whitworth not to bring another girl in here. So: What. Is. She. Doing. Here?"