Meredith Green is an eighteen year old girl who is, to be honest, pretty lazy. She has no idea which direction her life is going to take, and, quite frankly, doesn't care. She gets the opportunity she needs to turn her life around, however, in the form of a completely unexpected call from a Specialist University, offering her a place among their ranks. With no other options, Meredith is forced to attend, along with her best friend Charlie Samuels, who also received a mysterious phone call. From the moment they enter the huge manor house, Meredith starts developing odd symptoms and strange suspicions about the teachers. Also, the two brothers who own the manor, Jeremiah and Noah, seem to act weird around the pupils in particular. She is determined to find out the truth, despite the mystery illness she seems to be coming down with. However, is the truth safe? Can Meredith handle the shocking facts about everyone around her that she loves and trusts?


1. Meredith Green

 I sighed heavily, rolling my eyes and pushing my chair right back onto its hind legs. As I did so, the black leather creaked slightly, the new material not yet properly broken in. The lecturer at the front of the theatre paused, spinning round with a frown on his dull face. I allowed a small grin to play around my lips as I watched the university lecturer in his futile attempts to search for the distractor. It sounded pretty strict, being penalised for the creak of a chair, but I had been making a lot of distraction, to be fair for the poor man. I couldn't really be bothered to go into the details, but it had obviously been irritating him all through his talk about jobs in the packaging industry. I was literally falling asleep in my chair. Well, I guess the man (his name was Dr.Vesir) had finally snapped. I was sat right at the back of the lecture theatre, half-concealed with a thick, red-velvet curtain, so it was extremely hard for him to see me in amongst all the other people who had turned up to hear him speak. It was unbelievable how many people were genuinely interested in packing groceries for a living. I definitely wasn't; but, to be fair, I wasn't exactly interested in any career options right now. After all, I was only eighteen and starting my first year at university. My career wasn't exactly number one on my figure-out-the-future list. I was pretty undecided about a lot of things, and my job was one of them. 


Letting my eyes roam around the room, I unconsiously took in every detail with my razor-sharp eyesight. The theatre was a basic layout, with thick leather chairs sloping steeply upwards and massive bay windows set into the cream-coloured walls. The university itself was a fairly old building, made from crumbling grey-stone slabs about a metre thick. However, once the building was bought by the Government from  some monks who used to live and worship here, an offical command was passed to convert the old castle and cemetary into a university. Obviously, it had been modernised drastically, but a few rare original features remained, including the beautiful, varnished bay windows lined with deep crimson curtains. There was a sunken pit in the middle of the theatre, where display apparatus and the lecturer would perform. There were about three hundred or so people, mostly adults, dotted randomly around the huge, airy theatre. My recipe for a boring afternoon.


Slouching against the wall and leaning my head on the velvet curtain, I felt around in my pockets for something that would take away the boredom. In amongst all the other rubbish, I felt the smooth, cool surface of my moblie phone. Pulling it gently out, I shot a guilty look at the lecturer. He was a balding, middle-aged man with dull greyish green eyes and a slightly crumpled brown suit. We weren't technically allowed to have our phones on in here, but I wanted to prevent my early death, caused most probably by boredom. I then swithed my full attention to my phone, turning it on and caressing the screen gently. I had saved up for a whole year to buy this iPhone 4S, and treated it like complete royalty. Reflected in the black welcome screen and grey Apple insigna, I saw my face peering eagerly back at me. What I saw was a delicate, heart-shaped face and witty brown eyes, creased slightly at the edges yet framed with blonde, naturally curly eyelashes. Thin, shimmering locks of strawberry blonde hair framed my face perfectly, cut just below the shoulder. I was extremely proud of how I looked, but I still thought myself mediocre compared to other girls. I used to be fat, ugly and crude-featured, the favoured victim for many bullies. Until I decided to take action, I had no friends, no fun and no life.  I realised I had been staring into the screen for ages, remembering how my life used to be. I frowned, a small crease appearing between my eyebrows, and tapped in my pin, gaining access to my phone with a satisfying click. The first thing I did was check my Messages, opening up the app without a second thought. I saw that only one person had texted me in the past hour, despite my growing contacts list. I smiled, my eyes lighting up and my teeth showing through my ruby-red lips (don't worry - it was lipstick; I'm not that perfect). My best friend ever, Charlie, had texted me, saying "Argh! Help me! Stuck in lctre with brng guy! Wot bout u?" My fingers danced across the screen, typing a response before I had even finished reading. "Same. Think I'm gonna die. Meet 4 tea + biccies @ 2:00?" I sent the message, closing the app and checking my mail. Just a bunch of fake surveys and adds for various products. Nothing worth reading. I then glanced quickly over my missed calls, checking who had phoned while my phone had been switched off. A few random Indian guys with weird accents, a computersised female telling me I was missing out on a great life insurance deal, and then... well, there was a number I'd never seen before.   


I opened up voicemail, pausing for a second and swiftly vacating the lecture theatre. Anything to be out of that torture session. Standing in the neat, bright hallway, I played the voicemail, leaning against a brilliant white corridor wall with the phone against my ear. "This is not junk mail, Meredith Green. Please listen on for more details about your new university." I furrowed my brow, wracking my brains to think when I had ever actually applied for a university. Curiosity, however, got the better of me, and I failed to close the voicemail and delete the message. The voice, in it's smooth, calm tones, carried on. "Miss Green, you applied for Stockridge Manor Specialist University exactly two months ago, where we recieved the letter shortly after you sent it. We apologise for not being able to contact you sooner; however, we have had a great number of young students apply for the university this year, and were uncertain whether you would be confirmed a place. We did see your application form, though, and were all extremely surpised by what you had showed us. It's not often we get a girl of your extraordinnary talents apply for Stockridge Manor. If you would like a place in Stockridge Manor Specialist University, then you are most certainly welcome to attend. The first semester starts the second of September, and you will be required to chose a topic to study on your arrival at the campus. You can locate us twenty two miles of your current location, in the Stockridge Manor private grounds. You may take the private Stockridge Manor University train carraige, or travel by car. No particular uniform is stated, but silver and gold jewellry is banned, along with the colour red. Black is encouraged, but not mandatory. Please visit our website, for more details. Hope to see you extremely soon, Meredith Green." With that, the call cut off and left me reeling. When had I applied? What would I take? How would I get there? Would my parents approve? What talents did I even have? What sort of girl was I? I shookm my head, hoping to clear out all my thoughts and jumbled-up questions. First things first, I had to talk to Charlie about this.

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