Foxblood #1: A Brush with the Moon Page 3

  Chapter Three

  I SOON SETTLED into my new routine. The first week was full of introductions and getting my bearings. Then, in the second week, Mr Arkwright, the head of the art department, decided to leave the class unsupervised to compose a still life. A sculpture of recycled rubbish was already constructed on the table in the middle of the classroom, with a circle of easels surrounding it. I threw my bag on the floor and sat down behind one of them in preparation.

  Beth popped her head around the door. “Cappuccinos at eleven?” she asked.

  My answer stuck in my throat when, at that precise moment, a tall, slim but muscular blond Adonis strode confidently past the window separating the classroom from the corridor outside.

  Head to toe in black—tight jeans and a slim-fit shirt with an overly large collar and cuffs—he painted a very sexy picture. He was so different from the boys back in Brumpton, who lived in their sweatpants and trainers, that I couldn’t help but stare. He turned towards me as he stopped talking to his friend. There was something strangely familiar about him. I even thought our eyes briefly met, but I couldn’t be certain due to his dark-tinted Ray-Bans, and the moment passed as quickly as he did.

  Beth glanced over her shoulder to see what had caught my attention, raised her eyebrows, and commented, “Nice ass. Good choice. Now, are we on for coffee, or not?”

  “Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure,” I answered, shaking a thought from my head. “I’ll see you after class.”

  The refectory was a light, airy room on the ground floor of B block. A door in the floor-to-ceiling glass on the opposite wall to the food counter led out to a small paved picnic area which blended into the grassy mounds beyond. I chose a table by the window and sat down with my cappuccino to wait for Beth.

  A portly robin hopped along the patio wall, bobbing to peck up specks of food before peeking around nervously to check if anyone had seen him. His red breast mesmerised me, and I wondered why people called it red when in reality it was more of a burnt orange.

  The same could be said for the colour of fox fur.

  A shiver ran through me as unpleasant memories came flooding back, and I shook them off as Beth’s voice cut into my thoughts.

  “Sorry I’m a bit late. There was a catfight over a hairbrush in the changing rooms, and I had to help break it up,” she said, plopping down onto the opposite chair.

  I looked at the cup she’d placed on the table. “Did they get your order wrong? That looks like an espresso.”

  Beth laughed. “Yeah, it is. I decided I needed something stronger. Hey, guess what? That guy you were checking out earlier was in the gym signing up for the Triplasian Tournament. I asked around and came up with some hot info.”

  I rolled my eyes. Typical Beth.

  “Of course, if you’re not interested…” she said.

  I hated it when she teased me. She knew just how to press the right buttons. “I was not checking him out, merely curious. He’s different. And he looked older than us.” I was digging, and she knew it.

  “You noticed that, huh? Well, apparently he’s called Sebastian Lovell. He and his cousin, Connor—that was the other guy who was with him—are quite the topic of conversation right now. The word is they grew up in the city, hopping straight from one boarding school to another. They began their degrees at some upper-class uni, and then strangely both caught some mysterious illness and ended up moving over here to convalesce at their grandma’s place. Quite strange, really. Anyway, now they have to re-take their final year here. What a bummer, huh?”

  “Yeah, bummer.” I mulled the information over. “So, they must be…what, twenty-two?”

  “How would I know? You know I can’t add up,” Beth said, frustrated.

  “True. So, the Triplasian Tournament, what’s that?”

  “Oh. Just an excuse for a blatant display of testosterone-filled macho-ness.” Beth laughed. “Actually, I believe the competition dates back to medieval times in this area. Mind you, it used to be sword fighting, arrow shooting, and quarterstaff fighting, but it’s evolved since then into fencing, archery, and bo staffs. It takes place in May, and should be an interesting watch, particularly with so many hotties on display. I certainly plan on checking it out.”

  “Hmm. Well, I’m not here to ogle the eye candy.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You can’t fool me with that line anymore, Soph. I noticed you not ogling this morning, remember?” She narrowed her eyes. “I know you, Soph, and I’ve never seen you look at a guy the way you looked at him. You’re hooked.”

  In a way, she was right, but not for the right reason. Intrigued, yes; hooked, no.

  “Mind if I join you?” a small voice whispered, thankfully silencing Beth and saving me from any more embarrassment. “If I sit alone, he always comes to ‘keep me company’.”

  The girl pointed with her eyes in the direction of a skinny but toned boy with brown, wavy hair and a turned-up nose. He was wearing a white vest top, navy tracksuit bottoms, and trainers, and he was leaning over the counter trying to sweet-talk the dinner lady into giving him a larger portion.

  “Oh, I know him,” Beth said. “That’s Jack. He’s in my class.”

  “Yes. Unfortunately, he wants to know me a little better than I’d like,” the girl said. “He keeps pestering me to go on a date with him and won’t take no for an answer. Also, he’s got a serious case of the hand grabs.” The girl shuffled into a chair and smiled. “Sorry, I’m being rude. Hi. I’m Marie. You might have seen me before. I work on reception,” she added softly, offering her hand out to shake.

  Five minutes later, we were chatting like old friends. Marie seemed really nice. She was a petite girl with dark blonde hair tied back sleekly, wearing a brown suit with a high-neck blouse that made her look a lot older than her twenty-one years, all of which had been spent in Fosswell. She proved to be a mine of local information.

  Draining the dregs from my cup, I glanced out of the window. A group of pigeons jostling over a few crumbs near one of the picnic benches was temporarily disturbed by a trio of girls passing through on their way to the building. All fake tan and high heels, they didn’t acknowledge our existence as they entered and tottered past us, giggling.

  “He definitely smiled at me then,” a raven-haired girl said smugly. She turned, looking straight through me, and I noticed that she had violet eyes, a definitely distinctive look.

  “I think so too,” agreed the fluffy bleach blonde to her left. “You’ll be working your magic on him in no time.”

  A willowy, dark-skinned girl smoothed down her all-too-short skirt. “Ah-huh. There’s no escape when girlfriend digs her claws in.”

  Marie caught me staring. “That’s Lara Williams—thinks a bit too much of herself, that one—and those are her sidekicks, Megan and Simone,” she whispered behind her hand.

  “I’m betting on three weeks,” said the girl identified as Megan.

  “No way. I go for two,” argued Simone.

  Marie leaned in. “Lara’s parents were killed in an accident eight years ago,” she said. “It’s quite sad, really. They drove their car clean off Lyall Ridge, and because of the explosion, they could only be identified through dental records. Her mum’s brother, the local vicar, felt sorry for her and took her in, but I’ve heard he panders to her too much, and she takes advantage. Apparently, he’s a rather weedy man with no gumption, and he struggles to control her wild ways, so she walks all over him. She did all right from the life insurance, though, and uses it to buy her popularity.”

  After that, the rest of the day passed pretty normally, and at four o’clock I went to find Beth for our usual journey home together.

  In the gymnasium, the tournament tryouts were in full swing, with lots of masculine competitiveness on show. Through the porthole-style window in the door, I noticed Lara and her friends in the spectator seats, avidly shouting support to the competitors. I followed Lara’s gaze, and it led straight to Sebastian. He was in full fencing regalia, but it was unmistakably hi
m, and I could now see that he had a damn fine pair of legs, nicely sculpted and topped with a pert bottom. The tight trousers of his suit clung in all the right places.

  Not that I cared, obviously.

  “Caught you,” Beth said, peering over my shoulder. “I knew you fancied him.”

  “Who?”

  “You know who. Luscious Lovell.” She nodded in his direction.

  I feigned indifference. “Oh, don’t be silly. I didn’t even know he was there. Are you ready?”

  “Ah-huh,” she said, heading for the door.

  Biting my lip, I turned back for one more glimpse just as Sebastian finished his match, removed his foil, and turned to look at the door. I bobbed down quickly and scuttled out of the exit with my heart racing.

  “Actually, I forgot,” Beth said as I caught up to her. “I said I’d meet Justin at the gym. We’re doing a taster in taekwondo tonight. Do you want me to drop you off at home first?”

  “No, that’s okay,” I said. “It’s turned into a nice afternoon, and I fancy a walk.”

  At the back of the campus, I climbed over the wall and jumped down into the adjoining woods, where I wove my way between the trees until I found a well-worn path of dried, cracked mud that led through a copse towards the sound of a river. Carefully avoiding the stinging nettles bowing their heads before me in the breeze, I followed the path as it continued along the water’s edge, leading away from town and towards the hills.

  After a while, the river decreased in width, and eventually opened out into a large pond. Here the air was filled with the pungent scent of meadowsweet, and I sat on the edge of a small overhang to rest in the fading sunlight.

  The glass-like surface of the pond rippled gently, and a brilliant blue dragonfly flittered in and out of the tall reeds gracefully encircling the water’s edge. I’d walked so far, I’d almost reached the hills where a waterfall gushed down a rocky crevice into the stream feeding the pond at the other side. At the top of the adjacent incline, tall oak and sycamore trees swayed gently together, and as the light changed between the branches, I imagined I could see the sandy-coloured stones of an old building through the leaves.

  Alas, there was no time to investigate further. The sun was setting, and I needed to head home before dark, but I resolved to return to paint the scene at the weekend if the weather held. As I turned to get up, a flash of russet in the distance caught my eye. Was it a fox? My familiar shiver returned, along with the memories, and I quickly sped off home.