Winterwood Academy Book 1: Gifted

By Kate A. Fox

Three’s a crowd. At least that’s what I’ve heard, and I’ve definitely come to learn that it’s true. My best friend’s new girlfriend is a complete pain in the ass, and if it wasn’t for me being on my last warning at Gilford High, I’d definitely do something about it.

The consequences of my doing so aren’t just your usual slap on the wrist kind of punishments. When strange things begin to happen, and my eyes start to freaking GLOW, I’m whisked away to ... you guessed it ... the Winterwood Academy for the ‘Gifted.’

I don’t feel very gifted. In fact, I feel like the biggest freak in an entire school of freaks. As the hottest guy at the Academy would say, “I’m the Queen of Freaks,” but coming from him, it’s actually kind of sweet.

Oh, and did I forget to mention that not only am I having strange encounters with a Goddamn Goddess, I’m also hearing voices in my head, and there’s a book in the Academy library that’s actually TALKING to me!

They say that only a true Winterwood Witch is capable of opening that book, so why the hell does it want anything to do with me?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Mar 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005948153

Book preview

Author

Chapter One

It was happening again. The strange yet somehow familiar tingling sensation that I had started experiencing over the last couple of weeks.

Starting from my chest, it grew in strength as it spread outwards to overwhelm my stomach, my limbs, and even my head. It was a mixture of cold and hot, all wrapped up into one. Almost like an anxiety attack, it caused my heart to beat ten to the dozen.

Unlike an anxiety attack that came, thick and fast, when I was feeling low, this sensation only seemed to arise whenever I was feeling angry. And right now, I was angry.

I don’t just mean the kind of angry you get when someone eats the last bowl of cereal or buys the last pair of shoes you’ve been saving your pocket money for weeks to buy.

I mean, the kind of angry you get when someone has wound you up so tight you’re either going to cry or hit them because it’s all you can think of.

That was just how Lola Richards made me. She was a stuck up know it all with a celebrity complex in designer boots. But really, she was no better than the rest of us.

And right now, she was hovering over me as I sat at my desk, waiting for maths class to begin. And it was the only time I prayed class would start already. I hated maths.

Her hand gripped the back of my seat, and she leaned so far over that the ends of her bleached blonde hair swept the surface of the table. I’d have loved to wrap it around my fingers and pull hard enough to rip her nasty brown roots out.

You just can’t stay away from him, can you? She snarled into my ear. I heard the tinkling of girly laughter coming from the Lola-bots (three girls who dressed like Lola, acted like Lola, wanted to be Lola) behind her.

Bile rose in the back of my throat, and my hands tightened into protective fists.

I knew who she was talking about. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out. She was talking about the star of the football team, the most popular guy in school, and my best friend.

When will you get it through your thick, ginger skull? She continued to whisper, none too quietly, in my ear, Beast isn’t into you.

Of course, his name isn’t really Beast. His name is Peter, but all the guys on the football team call him Beast because he’s good at the game and built like a brick wall. To everyone else, he was a bad ass, but to me, he was just Petey, the guy next door who had been my friend ever since, well, I couldn’t remember when. We’d been friends for as long as I could remember.

I clutched the edge of my desk, trying desperately to keep control over myself. One more outburst and I was destined to be expelled from Gilford High - or as I liked to call it - Hell.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a bad teenager. I’m what most adults would call troubled. I guess that’s what you get when your mum ups and leaves you with her best friend, and you have no idea who your father is.

Nicola (my adopted mum) always did her best for me, but when you’ve spent your entire life labelled as the orphan, you begin to get bored of being bullied and lash out.

Are you listening to me? Freak! Lola yelled, slamming her free hand down on the desk in front of me.

Her outburst caused me to jump, but I quickly became still again, hiding behind the red curtain that was my hair. It cascaded in loose waves all around my face.

I gripped hold of the pendant that always hung on a silver chain around my neck.

The pendant itself was made up of a cluster of small gemstones, each one a different colour and shape—purple amethyst, green emerald, red jasper, black onyx, pink rose quartz, orange topaz, brown-black tiger eye.

It was the most precious thing I owned, not only because the stones were precious but also because it had once belonged to my mum. Touching it always seemed to calm me. I drew in a deep breath and tried my hardest to keep it together. I wasn’t about to let Lola f-ing Richards get under my skin and get me kicked out of school.

Hey! Lola snapped, jabbing me in the shoulder with a red-tipped finger. Those awful press on nails were just another thing to add to the list of reasons why I hated Lola, I’m talking to you.

Miss Richards? Miss Winters? Is everything alright here? Mrs Iverson’s authoritative voice caused both of us to look up with a start. The other students who had been watching the scene out of the corner of their eye quickly looked away.

Mrs Iverson was your typical maths teacher with mousy brown hair pulled back from her face in a ponytail and thin-rimmed glasses, which she always looked over when she was giving a telling off.

That’s exactly how she looked now, stood in the doorway with her glasses halfway down her nose, her eyes fixed upon us as though she knew exactly what was going on.

Everything is fine, Mrs Iverson, Lola said all too sweetly as she straightened up and offered our teacher a butter-wouldn’t-melt smile.

Then, class, please take your seats. Mrs Iverson swept into the room and placed a pile of books on her desk at the front of the room. Even the students who had been milling about took to their assigned seats.

This isn’t over, Lola vowed as she turned to go to the back of the class, not missing out on stamping on my foot as she went.

I barely managed to hold in the squeal of pain that shot up my foot, but I was relieved that the tingling sensation began to ease off as soon as she moved away.

Maths class that usually dragged on forever because I hated it seemed to be over all too quickly.

I spent the entire hour with my nose in my work, half-listening to Mrs Iverson, and half-trying to avoid catching Lola’s eye.

It wasn’t that I was scared of her. In fact, I was pretty sure it was the other way around. It was because of the fact I had no intention of falling out with my best friend because some Paris Hilton wannabe was a jealous freak.

When the bell rang, I had mentally prepared myself for whatever crap Lola was about to throw my way.

What I didn’t expect was for Mrs Iverson to hold me back as the rest of the class made their way from the room.

I was so stunned by her calling my name, so focused on my soon to come confrontation with Lola, that I almost dropped the maths book I carried in my arms to take back to my locker.

Have you got a minute? Mrs Iverson asked as soon as the door closed behind the last student.

I really should be getting ready for PE. I threw my thumb over my shoulder as if pointing to the gym clothes I had in my locker in the hall. Not that she could see them from all the way in here.

I won’t keep you long, Mrs Iverson promised, looking over her glasses with an ‘it was an order, not a request’ look in her brown eyes.

With a sigh, I stepped away from the door and walked up to her desk. She sat with her elbows on the surface, and her hands clasped together in front of her face.

What is going on between you and Miss Richards?

Sheesh. Mrs Iverson didn’t beat around the bush.

Nothing, I responded far too quickly and felt my cheeks beginning to flare up.

For a redhead like me, blushing was just about the worst thing I could do. There was no way of hiding it with my pasty, ghost complexion.

Come on, you students might think we teachers are stupid, but I know trouble when I see it, and there’s definitely been tension between you and Lola for the last few months.

That’s probably because Lola had begun dating my best friend two months ago. I know it’s weird to know exactly how long your friend has been dating someone, but when that someone is as much of a cow as Lola Richards, you practically begin scratching the days into your bedroom wall.

It’s nothing. I insisted, gritting my teeth until my jaw felt as though it might break.

The last thing I wanted to do was get a teacher involved, even if that teacher was as kind as Mrs Iverson. Telling her what was going on would only make things worse.

She didn’t look convinced, but I was relieved when she didn’t push me any further.

Perhaps that was only because the bell for the second period suddenly rang, but still, I was relieved all the same.

You had better get going, or you’ll be late for PE, Mrs Iverson insisted with a wave of her hand.

Too late. All the other girls would already be dressed and on their way out of the changing rooms by now.

Miss. Eddings—or as we called her, Butch—would probably make me run laps for being late.

Great. Just what I needed. On top of Lola’s bitch fit, I was going to sweat my boobs off on the track where all the boys in Mr. Wigan’s class could see me from the tennis courts.

Today was getting worse by the minute.

***

Just as I’d expected, Butch ordered me to give her five laps of the track while the other girls set up the gymnasium for our volleyball class.

If I thought I had any hope of pretending to run the laps, I was wrong. Butch stood at the open door of the gym, watching me out of the corner of her eye even as she watched the rest of the class set up the nets so that the class could play in four teams. No doubt the winning two teams would go on to play each other and, as Butch would say: show us how it’s done.

I was only halfway around my second lap, practically puking up a lung when Peter appeared beside me.

He flipped around to run backwards with a devilish smile on his face that made his tanned face even more handsome than usual. Don’t get me wrong. I have no romantic feelings towards him, but if his best friend can’t notice how gorgeous he is, what right do any other girls have?

Peter was a stereotypical pretty boy with tanned skin, blonde hair that always seemed to sit in a superman swirl, and a rocking body that could put an underwear model to shame.

What’s up, Red? He smirked at me as he mockingly ran backwards, proving just how out of shape I was. God, I wanted to slap him.

Don’t talk to me, I told him, keeping my eyes dead straight, focusing on anything but him.

What? Is it because I called you Red? He scowled at me, Or is it your time of the month?

What is it with guys and thinking that us girls are only in a mood whenever we are on our periods?

I skidded to a halt and glared at him, suddenly unbothered by the fact I could feel Miss Eddings watching me.

You’re kidding me, right? I snapped at him, You call me Red all the time, and you know full well. I’m not on my period.

Oh yeah, right, because you get all spotty and sick when you are. Peter began jogging on the spot and rolled his eyes at me, So what’s going on with you? I feel like you’ve been avoiding me.

I have not! I lied.

The truth was that in the last few days, Lola had turned her maniac meter up several notches, well past what I even realised was possible. Maybe she was the one on her period, or maybe it had something to do with the fact that Peter had asked me, and not her, to Billy Bradbury’s party on Saturday.

It had been a small victory in my book. One that had resulted in nasty notes and veiled threats from Lola the minute she found out.

Why did you invite me to Billy’s party on Saturday? I blurted out. At the time, I’d simply said yes, but after everything that had happened the last couple of days, I was beginning to think there was more to it.

Because you are my bestie, and we don’t hang out as much as we used to.

Peter gave me a good old fashioned bro punch to the shoulder, yet another reminder that we were just friends. But I knew that if Lola had seen it, she would most definitely have taken it the wrong way. She took everything the wrong way when it came to Peter.

"Didn’t you think to invite your girlfriend before you asked me?" I scowled at him. My God, I hated calling her that. It made me cringe every time.

Peter shrugged and looked down as if he was trying to avoid my eyes.

What’s going on? I demanded.

I could always tell when there was something up with him. It was part of the whole best friend package, an unspoken connection between us.

I don’t know… he sighed, It’s just...she’s so...clingy.

Oh, here we go!

I warned you. I glared at him, I told you she was crazy and now crazy is on my ass!

Peter’s head flew upwards, and he glanced over my shoulder, Let me see?

I aimed a well-placed punch at his upper arm.

It’s not funny!

Hey! What was that for? He cringed away, finally stopping with his incessant jogging on the spot.

I rolled my eyes at him as he rubbed his upper arm. As if I could hurt him? His arms were practically as big as my thigh, and there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

You need to reign in your girlfriend. I said through gritted teeth, She’s been threatening me to stay away from you all week.

Jeez. Peter ran his fingers through his thick, glossy blonde hair, I had no idea.

Well, now you do, so fix it.

Miss Winters! Butch’s voice sounded like a foghorn, Get your butt moving. We haven’t got all day!

Sort it. I snapped at Peter before I returned to my laps.

Even as I did so, I was sure that I was going to be forced to take matters into my own hands. When it came to the girls he liked, Peter had a nasty habit of letting them walk all over him.

I didn’t wait for him to reply. Instead, I began to finish up my laps. When I looked around, he was already jogging back towards the tennis courts, where Mr Wiggan was waiting to begin the lesson.

On the breeze, I could hear the stern teacher saying something about the fact that he didn’t live to wait on his students. No doubt Peter gave him an award-winning smile and breezed right through, avoiding any real scolding.

He might let his girlfriends walk all over him, but he seemed to have a habit of doing the same with everybody else. His charm had him waltzing through life.

Ass. I threw the comment at him in my head as I became breathless once more.

Chapter Two

"Luckily for me, Lola wasn’t in my class for P.E or volleyball may well have turned into Dodgeball. I’d seen her play so many times, forced by Peter to go to her stupid games all because she was the captain of the volleyball team. If the guys at school had any sense, she was the one they would be calling Beast.

For once, I didn’t actually mind playing. It helped to take my mind off the crappy situation I found myself in. It wasn’t until I found myself on the losing team - go figure - that I had a chance to sit and think.

Sitting on the benches at the edge of the gym, I kept myself to myself as I always did. I guess you’d call me a loner. Things were simpler that way. There was way too much drama when it came to having female friends, especially in high school.

But as I sat, I realised I wasn’t alone.

Psst. A squeak came from the bench behind me, and I almost jumped out of my skin.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I found Debbie—short, plump, and dorky—sitting behind me.

I saw what happened this morning, she said, her pasty cheeks growing red as though she was embarrassed to point it out, Lola can be a real A-hole. That was an understatement.

Try not to let it get you down. She’ll get over it and move onto someone else soon. Debbie spoke as though she was talking from experience, and I suddenly remembered the incident in the cafeteria a couple of months ago when Lola had accidentally barged into Debbie, sending her food tray flying. The poor girl had been up to her eyeballs in spaghetti before she even knew what hit her.

Don’t worry about me, I said, turning my attention back to the game being played by the two winning teams, I can handle myself.

You should be careful with a girl like her, Debbie warned. She’s formidable.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. As if I needed Dorky Debbie to tell me that. I know I shouldn’t call her that, but everybody calls her it. I’m probably about the only person in school who wouldn’t actually say it to her face. She didn’t help herself much, walking around with Star Wars badges stuck all over her backpack and I-Heart-Hans stickers all over her notebooks. I mean, can you get dorkier?

But even she didn’t deserve the way that Lola treated her.

Thanks for the info, I grunted.

Just then, Butch blew the whistle to end the game, announcing that the team that had beaten ours were the winners.

Winters! she yelled even as the other girls began to break away from the game.

I groaned inwardly and lifted my head to look at her.

Yes. But...I mean, Miss. Eddings.

I nearly dropped my foot right in it. As if I wasn’t in enough trouble for being late to class.

"Seeing as how you were late, and you found yourself on