When Luna Hart transfers to Oakham conservatoire, something isn't right. Her flatmates, deemed 'The Five', by many, are made up of Oakham's most elite. They're known for being rich, ruthless and cold-hearted. But why is Luna so particularly despised...
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THE THROBBING pain of regret seeped into my head the next morning, accompanied by a sick ache in my stomach and for some reason, a big bruise on my knee.
How that got there, I had no idea.
When I opened my eyes, I realised that I was not in my room. Gone were my clothes and piano sheets spread messily about the floor.
But thankfully, my slow brain realised as I looked to my side, it was Gabby's room. She was sleeping next to me, her mouth wide open and sounding out a symphony of snores.
The light shone through her blinds in yellow stripes on her wall, brightening photos that were stuck caringly in clusters. Outside, there weren't the usual sounds of chatter and student hubbub – it was a Saturday, after all, so everyone was either hungover or sleeping in anyway.
With a happy stretch, glad to be free of lectures, I reached for my phone that lay untouched on the bedside table. It turned on, flashing in my face with such a pervasive glare that I squinted and flinched away as if it burned me. I was definitely way more hungover than I thought.
Once I'd turned the brightness down, a few texts flashed up: Alice, asking if I was still alive. Then some spam emails that I needed to delete and, just below that, there was –
I froze mid yawn.
A reminder I'd set and completely forgotten about.
Dr Foreman – he'd scheduled an evaluation of the work he given last week. Today. At 10AM.
It was now 10:15.
Cursing loudly, I scrambled out of the covers, causing Gabby to stir beside me.
"Where are you going?" She mumbled, her voice muffled as her lips squashed against the pillow.
Crap. I was still wearing my dress from last night. There was absolutely no way I'd be going to see my professor looking like I'd just had a one-night stand.
"I've got a meeting." My cheeks were heating up now. That was what happened when I got stressed. And a stressed, hungover, hungry Luna was definitely not a good combination. "Have you got any clothes I can borrow?"
She sat up slowly, holding one hand to her forehead. The mascara smudged under her eyes and the eyeshadow that seemed to have transported to various patches on her face told me that we'd forgotten to take off our makeup last night, which was going to add to my delay even more. Great.
"Yes, you can put on these." Gabby offered, picking up some clothes as I turned on the light to look at myself in the mirror.
Sure enough, staring back at me was a mess. Scruffy hair, glitter everywhere; red lipstick in my eyebrow. My mother would have cowered at the sight.
"Why did this have to happen?" I wined, grabbing the clothes that she held in her hands to change into, accidently banging my knee on her bedside table. "Ow. Where the hell did I get this bruise?"
