Chapter 3: Forged in Blood: Chapter 1

Rolling back my shoulders, I swallow down my apprehension and force myself to approach the table of girls closest to me. One of them steps forward, her plaid skirt bouncing against her thighs and her white tank complimenting her golden tan. A shy smile flickers across my face when I realize we’re dressed almost identically. Maybe I will fit in here after all.

She doesn’t smile back. Instead, she regards me with what seems like curiosity. “Do you play field hockey?”

“No.” I shake my head, looking over her shoulder at the group of girls at the table behind her. “But I could try.”

She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “I mean, you’ve got the build, but we’re regional champs. We need players with experience. Sorry, Pink.” She winks at me before brushing past and approaching a girl a few feet behind me.

I have the build? Was that her way of saying I’m chunky? No. This isn’t high school, Ophelia. Even if a significant enough portion of people from my old high school also attend this college to ensure I will never forget my place, there are thousands of students on this campus.

I shake off my disappointment at not being able to try out for the field hockey team. It’s entirely unfounded to feel such rejection over a sport I’ve never played before—one I’ve never had the slightest interest in. I’ve spent the past week on campus keeping to myself and gearing up for today’s activity and club fair, and I am not going to leave until I find something I want to do.

With my head held high and a smile on my face, I carry on down one of the paths that splits Gaea’s Green, affectionately known as the quad, into four sections. Today’s the first day of the fall semester, and each path is lined with tables showcasing the various groups and societies at Montridge University. Unlike most colleges, Montridge doesn’t have sororities or fraternities. Instead, it has twelve societies which, according to the brochure I was sent with my acceptance letter, have been around since the school was founded in 1672. Given that it’s the second oldest college in the country, the exclusive societies are some of the most prestigious and elite groups in the country. And that’s why I haven’t bothered applying for any. Plenty of famous—and infamous—individuals have attended this school.

Wandering through the society stands, I notice that the four Vale societies, each named after a precious metal, seem the most welcoming, with their balloons and cupcakes and smiley members with glittery face paint.

“Hey, girl with the pink hair. C’mere,” someone shouts. I’m the only person in the vicinity who fits that description. The girl who called for me reminds me so much of my high school bully that I almost lose the burrito I had for lunch. Impossibly beautiful, model tall, honey-blond hair pulled into a pristine ponytail. Perfect white teeth and button nose. Tanned skin. The list goes on.

“C’mere,” she shouts again, this time waving me over to the Silver Vale table.

I glance around again, still hoping she’s not talking to me, but she most definitely is. And now it’s too late to pretend I don’t see her. I mutter a curse and roll my shoulders back, prepared for whatever it is she’s about to throw at me.

She’s smiling when I reach her, but I can’t tell if it’s because my appearance amuses her for some reason or if she’s being genuinely nice. Experience tells me it’s the former, but the positive outlook I’m working to cultivate reminds me to reserve judgment. “Hi,” I say, my voice annoyingly little more than a squeak.

She tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

“E-excuse me?”

She rolls her eyes. “What are you doing? Are you hoping for a pledge invitation? Join the soccer team? What?”

Rudeness or curiosity? Hard to tell. Her tone is friendly enough, but girls like her aren’t usually friendly to me.

“Hey, Meg. Have you seen who’s hanging out at the Ruby Dragon table?” Another girl, equally gorgeous but with dark curly hair, links her arm through Meg’s.

Meg cranes her neck, peering over the crowd. A second later, she sinks her teeth into her lip and groans. I turn to see what she and her friend are looking at, but I’m too short to see over the crowd. I’ve heard whispers of the Ruby Dragon Society, and based on my research, that was the home of some of the most notorious Montridge graduates. They boast such alumni as the current director of the CIA, along with the biggest drug lord in Colombia.

“They are so fine,” Meg says with a sultry sigh. “Such a shame, huh?”

I’m about to ask what she means when the crowd parts and I finally see the objects of their attention. My mouth drops open unbidden. Shirtless and tanned, basking in the heat of the afternoon sun, three demigods stand among a throng of mortals. All rippling biceps, chiseled abs, and strong jawlines. “Who are they?” My voice comes out even quieter than before.

“The commanders of Ruby Dragon,” Meg says. “They’re hot, right?”

“I guess.”

“Stay away from them, new girl,” she warns, and when I drag my attention back to her, she’s glaring at me.

I snort a laugh. Does she seriously think I’m any kind of competition?

Her eyes narrow. “I mean it.”

I hold my hands up. “I’ll stay away.”

The girl with the curly hair looks me up and down. “Are you hoping to pledge?”

I blink at her. I never considered pledging one of the societies. I’m not a group activity kind of person. Not through personal choice … I just seem to have trouble fitting in. I’m only here today because I promised my advisor—and myself—I’d check out the clubs rather than sit alone in my dorm all day, reading. “I d-don’t think so.”

Meg scrunches up her nose and studies me like I’m an unknown specimen. “You’re different.”

Yeah, been made to feel that my whole damn life. Before the words can escape, I press my lips together, staying silent. Experience has also taught me not to provoke the popular girls. Don’t want to make any enemies on my first day. Memories of my high school experience flash through my mind, and my stomach rolls. I press my hand to my damp forehead. I need to get away from here. Away from the scrutiny of these two popular mean girls who no doubt only called me over here for their own amusement.

“I h-have to go,” I blurt. Not giving them the opportunity to respond, I turn and dart off through the crowd. Hurrying past the remaining tables, I head straight for the safety of my dorm room.