The thunderstorm hit Ashwick Academy like nature’s own special effects show, complete with lightning that turned the sky electric white and thunder that rattled the antique windows in their frames. I was in my dorm room finishing an essay on pharmaceutical ethics when the first flash illuminated my room like a camera bulb, followed immediately by a c***k of thunder that made me jump.
“Jesus,” Roni muttered from her bed, where she was painting her nails a shade of red that probably cost more than most people’s groceries. “That sounded like the world ending.”
“Just a storm.”
“Just a storm that’s—”
The lights went out.
Complete, total darkness swallowed the room, leaving us sitting in the kind of blackness that made you question whether your eyes were actually open. The hum of electronic
