Maybe even kidnapped or hurting, but . . . not dead. He promised to make my life miserable. When the doors to the dining hall fly open, it’s almost like I’m making it happen, like I’ve summoned it. Cold air pours into the room. It’s bright outside, in the courtyard, and at first, all we can see is the outline of a person. This has happened so many times since school started that no one is scared now, not even the littluns. When the figure steps forward, I recognize him at once. Tall. Black hair swept back from his forehead. Lips curled up in a sneer . . . I know that face as well as my own.
