Excerpt: Wind in the Blood

The dawn came gently, as it always does in the hazy autumn, carefully waking me out of my eventful sleep; I had dreamt almost constantly. I pushed the blankets aside and yawned. When I remembered it was Saturday I was suddenly energized – knowing you don’t have school to look forward to can do that – and hurried out of bed, threw on my robe and stepped into my slippers, and rushed out into the hallway.
I found like-minded people already outside, planning their weekends. At such an intense and difficult private boarding school as Wordsworth Academy, Saturdays are never, ever taken for granted. I smiled at my dorm mates and walked leisurely past all of them, enjoying the atmosphere. A few weary-looking girls with bags under their eyes and red veins showing plainly in the white glared at the rest of us and proceeded to shuffle down the hall, fully dressed in uniform. I felt instantly relieved that none of my classes had Saturday lectures.
Suddenly a heavy weight was on my back and I instinctively stiffened to support it, simultaneously trying to get my breath back in my lungs. However, it was soon clear that my balance and breath had no plans of returning any time soon, and my best friend and I fell to the thickly carpeted floor, laughing.
“What on earth are you doing up this early?” I asked breathlessly, ignoring the rather irritated girls who had to step over our bodies.
Alexis sat up, crossed her legs, and tucked her hair behind her ears. “The boys decided to wake me up,” she replied, shrugging.
I rolled my eyes. “Thank you for the self-esteem boost. I now need to go and find some unattractive friends and spend a month with them,” I said, sitting up myself.
Ever the thoughtful and sincere friend, and always eager to encourage and build up, Alexis’ pale blue eyes were suddenly transformed by the same expression innocent four year-olds seem to be perpetually blessed with. “Anarra, you are fantastically gorgeous,” she assured me. And then she smiled in a way that made me giddy, because I knew what she was going to say next. “And if you don’t believe me, just ask Braedon.”
A strange, delightful queasiness suddenly bloomed under my ribs and my throat closed. It must have showed on my face – since I was smiling ridiculously widely, there is no doubt that it was – because Alexis burst out laughing.
“See, dear? Just because six boys aren’t after you doesn’t mean you’re unattractive. I’m sort of jealous of you, actually,” she said genuinely.
I frowned, sincerely surprised. What did she have to be jealous of? I wasn’t plain – I was even slightly above average – but I wasn’t nearly as beautiful as Alexis. She was one of those people whose skin was naturally even, who was surprised when you told her that you used scrubs and facial masks and lotion regularly, because she’d never had to. She could get up in the morning without brushing her hair, and instead of wild and disorderly, it looked as if she’s planned and styled it to look wild.
“Don’t do that,” she told me. “You don’t look like other girls. You’re different. In a good way,” she added when I grimaced. “Anyway, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. And after we eat, I’m going to go and talk to the boys’ dorm wardens. Honestly, you’d think a bunch of adults could easily keep a few teenage boys from throwing rocks at our windows.” She stood up and pulled me up with her, and because of the serious difference in our height and build, we almost fell over again. We walked down the hall giggling at each other, lost in the summery joy of a Saturday morning that is there even when it’s mid-winter.
Wordsworth Academy was not, all things considered, such a terrible place. I’d heard horror stories of other boarding schools, and in comparison, Wordsworth was paradise. Of course, it was filled to the brim with students whose fathers had the types of jobs that are classified, or whose mothers were – or are – supermodels, actresses, and rich men’s wives. There were a few Sir and Lady juniors, and more than a school’s share of rich sponsors. So it was not surprising that we regularly had good eggs, sausage, and porridge for breakfast, or that we were only two to rather large rooms, each with its own bathroom. It was not surprising that among our physical activity choices were horseback riding, golf, cricket, and tennis, all of which had their own designated areas on school grounds, instructors, and exams.
Of course, I really had no choice but to like it. Unlike most of my fellow students, I lived here. This was, and had been since I was six, my home.
I quickly suppressed this train of thought; at night my defense against it was less because a part of me wanted, and needed, to think about it, but now, on a sunny Saturday morning free of homework and all other obligations, I refused to let it ruin the day for me.
Alexis and I walked with our arms linked. When we reached the dining hall, a few girls were already there, but because only a few were pressed for time because of weekend classes and the others were taking their time, most of it was empty. This suited me perfectly, and I normally tried to make it early, but Alexis was usually a late sleeper. As we entered she gasped and gripped my arm.
“Anarra!”
I looked at her, puzzled. “What?” I asked.
“The pancakes are steaming hot!”
I exhaled, shaking my head and grinning. “That’s what happens right after they come off the stove,” I told her didactically.
“Fascinating.”
We took a place in the very short line and filled our trays with pancakes, fruit, and – most importantly – massive cups of coffee. As we moved along we talked about our plans for the day. Alexis had one essay to write, which she could do rather quickly.
“I want to get it out of the way so we can play,” she said. She had such an odd way of speaking sometimes. “I think it’ll take about an hour, so if you want I can meet you after that, maybe for a ride?” she said hopefully, grinning at me shamelessly.
“You know you don’t have to try and convince me,” I reminded her. “If I could I would live on horseback.”
“Great! Let’s eat quickly,” she said.
I groaned. “I’m taking my time, thank you very much. I may be an early riser, but that doesn’t make me a morning person. It takes me an hour for the coffee to kick in, and that’s after nearly having it in an IV,” I told her as we sat down at a table. More girls were starting to come in.
Alexis looked at me, aghast. “No, it doesn’t. You’re always so chipper.”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Chipper? Did you just say chipper?”
“You know what I mean. It’s not my fault they make us read odd things in English class. You know I’m like a sponge.”
“Yes, I know,” I told her in a mock serious way, patting her hand. “But anyway, by the time you see me, the coffee’s done its work. Before that, I’m like this.” I took a huge gulp of coffee and savored it only for a moment before swallowing. The first cup was purely functional; the second cup was for taste.
“Oh my word,” Alexis exclaimed with her mouth full. “These pancakes are magnificent. I should get up early more often.”
*
I left Alexis in her room after breakfast and made my way back to my own to get ready. On the way I passed the warden of my hallway, and she smiled at me pityingly. I did my best to hide my reaction, as always. She’d been my technical guardian since I was six, although we seldom spoke; but the school could not take custody of me, since the school itself is just a building; someone representing the school had to do it. And since my parents had left me with a rather enormous amount of money – more than I could ever spend in my whole life even if I had outrageously expensive tastes and horrendous shopping habits, and lived until I was 100 years old – she had no financial obligation to undertake, and essentially al she was doing was signing her name to a contract and gaining yet another rich student for the school.
But she was one of the adults who knew my story, who knew my family’s history, and she reminded me of it every time I laid eyes on her. The pitying glances, the concerned looks, the waves of sympathy that emanated from her whenever I was within a hundred yards of her – it was enough to make me go mad. At the thought I sighed quietly, unable to do anything else to express just how badly I wanted to be free of this. I unlocked my door, went inside the room, and locked it again.
What can you do when you are constantly haunted by something that you did not bring about, that you can never change, and that you will never be rid of? What if it is in your blood? What if madness and restlessness and a yearning desire for something unattainable creeps over your every thought and your every breath? I would never be content. I would never be free of the madness in my blood – of the wind in my blood.
Suddenly I realized that I was sitting in the middle of my floor and I jumped up quickly. This line of thought frightened me. I was not a scared person by nature; I was brave. I did brave things. But these thoughts were like death to me, because I knew that that is where they would lead – to death. I pushed it away and walked to my dresser, and pulled open the drawer that held my sporting clothes.
The creaking of wood flooded my senses and I smelled salt air that could only be from the sea; that fresh, crackling air that smells like life and death and everything in between. Green eyes flashed and I-
I blinked. My hands were on the knobs of the drawer; it was half open; I was awake. A cold, numbing, creeping rigidness crawled slowly up from my toes and fingers into the rest of my body. I had just blanked out. I’d gone somewhere else. No. No. This was not going to happen. I was not going to let this happen. My fingers were going from numb to hot and shaking; the veins in them, however small, stood out like cracked lines from the strain. As if my blood was too potent, too powerful, too restless for them to hold; as if my blood wanted to burst out of them and go into places unseen.