and my wallet was sitting on top of my desk. I punched in the code, my hand getting ready to turn the knob when the door swung open.
I stared up into Fleur’s perfect face.
“Let me guess, you’re one of my roommates.” Her voice had a heavy French accent; her hand fisted on her hip. The words escaped in a bored drawl, hinting at some irony in us being roommates.
“I’m Maggie. Maggie Carpenter.”
She turned her back to me.
“American. Of course.”
So much for a warm welcome. At least I’d been forewarned.
“The rooms suck,” Fleur called out. I could hear a note of satisfaction in her voice. “The American kids always have a hard time adjusting. Especially if they haven’t been to Europe before. They say everything in the U.S. is bigger.”
I stiffened, the insult unmistakable.
A burst of French came from the other side of the room.
He was still there.
“Don’t poke the new girl, Fleur.” Samir’s voice filled the room, speaking English now. He winked at me.
Of course they were a couple. They were both so beautiful and exotic-looking, like something out of a magazine. All I could do was stand there with my stupid deer-in-the-headlights expression, staring back at them.
It was official. I had the worst roommate ever.
* * *
For a school as expensive as the International School, the dining hall was a bit of a disappointment. Like the dorm rooms, it was small. One wall boasted a bunch of silver tubs full of food, heated under fluorescent lights. A stack of plastic trays sat in front of the line of food.
“Go with the curry. Trust me, it’s the only thing remotely edible.”
I turned to the girl next to me—a tall black girl with long black hair. Gorgeous blue beaded earrings hung from her ears, a matching silver-and-blue scarf wrapped around her neck.
“Thanks for the advice.”
“No problem. I’m Mya. Are you new?”
“I’m Maggie. I’m a freshman.”
“Welcome. American?”
I grimaced. It had to be the accent giving me away. “Yeah.” Or my outfit. I stared down at my jeans and flip-flops, wishing I’d put something more glamorous on.
“Don’t worry. There are lots of Americans here.” She gave me a friendly smile, one of the first genuine ones I’d received since I arrived. “This is probably a bit of a culture shock.”
“It’s different,” I hedged. “Where are you from?”
“Nigeria.”
Wow.
“That’s pretty cool.”
She shrugged. “It’s nice. London’s better, though. We spend most of the year here. My dad works at the Nigerian embassy.” She gestured toward one of the empty tables. “Do you want to sit together?”
I had been courting visions of having to sit by myself at lunch, with only a book for company. “That would be great, thanks.”
I followed Mya to one of the tables, sliding into the chair across from hers. “Have most students arrived yet? It seems kind of empty.”
“Most probably have, but there are always the ones who push it right up to the last minute. Not everyone lives on campus or eats in the dining hall, either. A lot of students have their own flats and do their own things. It kind of adds up to a weird mix. We’re a small school, but there are still a bunch of different cliques.”
Great, it was high school all over again.
From the other side of the partition, I heard the sound of French. I turned in my seat, a groan escaping my lips. Fleur walked in, Samir trailing behind her.
“Fabulous.”
Mya followed my gaze until she settled on Fleur. Her lips quirked. “Ahh, I see you’ve met the reigning queen.”
“She’s my roommate.” I skewered a piece of chicken with my fork. And her boyfriend knows what I look like without my clothes on.
Mya’s eyes widened. “You’re going to have your hands full.”
“Believe me, I’m starting to figure that out.”
I had to ask. I ducked my head, hoping I wasn’t turning bright red. “What’s the deal with that guy? Samir, right? He was in our room earlier.”
“You have had a busy morning. That’s Samir Khouri. He’s Lebanese. At least his dad is. He’s a politician back in Lebanon. His mom’s French or something.”
“He seems like an asshole,” I muttered.
She laughed. “Yeah, you’re not far off the mark with that one.”
“Hi, Mya.”
My head jerked up at the sound of Fleur’s voice.
“Hi.”
“Are you going to the party tomorrow night?” Fleur asked, completely ignoring me.
Mya grinned. “I never miss a boat party.”
Fleur tossed her light brown hair back over her shoulder. “A bunch of us are going out after if you want to come.”
“I might. Thanks.”
Fleur nodded, not even bothering to glance my way, her heels clipping on the wood floor as she walked away.
“Are you guys friends or something?”
Mya shrugged, tearing off a piece of bread from her plate. “Not really. I would call us acquaintances that occasionally hang out. We went to boarding school together in Switzerland for a few years.”
Of course they did.
“So about that party Fleur mentioned. You’re going, right?” Mya asked.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it, really.”
“You have to go. The boat party is the start of the semester. Everyone will be there. The school rents a boat on the Thames. You can’t miss it—it’s a great way to get to know people and an excuse to look fabulous.”
“I don’t know. I don’t have anything to wear.” Not to mention the fact that I wasn’t exactly the party type. In high school I hadn’t been a big partier. Still—this was college and I was living in one of the most glamorous cities in the world.
“You’re coming. I can’t
