“You’re not from around here, are you?”

It took no deduction skill to be able to tell that; his thick Northern accent was hard to mistake.

“No,” he laughed. “I’m from Manchester. You?”

“Leicester.”

Outside a light drizzle had begun, raindrops trailing down the windows and blurring the landscape behind them. The carriage’s overhead lights flickered a little.

Seth was still studying me, his head cocked slightly to the side.

“Why did your parents want to get rid of you?”

“They didn’t want to get rid of me.” In fact, that had been exactly what my mom had said: Sweetheart, it’s not like we want to get rid of you. We just think that a change of scenery would be nice, don’t you think? “I didn’t exactly like my last school.”

“I see,” he said slowly. “No heart-wrenching sob story there?

You just wanted to go?”

“Yes.” I changed the subject. “Why do you ask? Are your parents forcing you?”

“They got divorced over the summer and didn’t know what to do with me. Said that I could come back around Christmas if everything is sorted out by then.” The dark expression clouding his face mirrored the gloomy weather outside. “It’s a bloody shit show, the whole thing.”

“I’m sorry.”

Seth shrugged, but there was a tension in his shoulders that contradicted the casual gesture. “It’s not your fault. Just sucks that I’m away from my sister.”

“Is she too young to go to Seven Hills?”

“No, we’re twins. But I got held back in primary school, so she’s going to uni already.” He was silent for a moment, chewing on his thumb. Finally, he looked at me again and asked, “Did you visit Seven Hills beforehand?”

I nodded. “They had an open house earlier this summer that my parents and I went to. Why, have you not been there before?”

“No. Everything was pretty . . . spontaneous,” he murmured.

In hopes of calming him, I said, “I was only there for an hour, but it looked nice. The castle is lovely, and the teachers seemed really friendly.”

Seth didn’t seem convinced, his expression only darkening when a female voice announced the train’s final destination, Gloomswick, just then. With a groan, he shoved his copy of Murder on the Orient Express into his backpack.

While carefully storing mine away, I said, “Maybe it won’t be so bad. Who knows, Seven Hills might even be fun?”

Seth’s snort gave away his opinion on that statement. “Right.

I’m sure everyone at this posh private boarding school is going to be dead funny. I’m buzzing for it.”

The train rocked to a stop before I could reply. After Seth helped me get my luggage from the overhead carrier (this boy was tall), we stepped out onto the platform. He swore quietly when a cold gust of wind took a hold of us, tearing at our clothes and whipping rain into our faces.

Gripping tighter onto my suitcases, I glanced around the train station. It consisted of nothing but the platform we were standing on and a small brick building where you could purchase tickets during the day, with a map of Gloomswick mounted on the wall next to the door. The small town slumbered at the feet of the Hills that gave the school its name, but covered in a blanket of woods and with night falling, it was hard to see all seven.