House books, which she’d read obsessively between the ages of ten and fourteen. Not only did nobody roll their eyes at her, but two other girls piped up to say they’d read those books over and over, too, and loved them just as much.
French was the best of all. Mademoiselle LeBlanc was a native speaker who insisted that the students speak only French in the classroom. (She also had a chic haircut and beautiful suede boots.) Rose was terrified at first. She’d been studying French since middle school, and had never been asked to do more than conjugate verbs on paper. Miraculously, when her turn came, her tongue knew what to do. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” Rose said, the words flowing out almost effortlessly. “Je m’appelle Rose Enright. Je viens de Californie.” The teacher nodded approvingly, and Rose suddenly had a new ambition. She would become fluent in French, speak with a perfect accent, live in Paris. Odell had a study-abroad program where you could live with a French family for a summer. She would convince Grandma to send her. Oh, life was exciting.
Emma Kim was in Rose’s French class, and when the period ended, she fell into step beside Rose, as if it was perfectly natural for them to walk to lunch together. The cool morning had become a bright, sunny day, and the Quad smelled of warm earth. Rose chatted and laughed with her new friend as they headed to the dining hall. Emma was a returning sophomore like Skyler, but didn’t seem to mind that Rose was new. Rose cherished the hope that they would become close friends. The girls she sat with at lunch in her old school had never been much more than acquaintances. They didn’t hang out, didn’t text, didn’t invite her shopping or to the movies. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried. She didn’t really understand why they didn’t want to be closer; maybe they didn’t consider her fun. Here at Odell, she hoped, the definition of fun would be different. Rose herself would be different here. If this morning was any indication, she would fit in, have friends, be liked and admired.
The new part of the dining hall, known simply as the New, was a soaring, modern space, all glass and white walls, with brightly colored flags hanging from the high ceilings (Odell had students from thirty countries). Giant photos of local flora decorated the walls. To Rose, the New looked like some space-age art gallery with tables. As they walked in, a warm buzz of conversation washed over Rose, and her heart lifted. Bel was here somewhere in the crowd. Rose wanted to find her, to gush to her twin about this amazing place. She searched the crowd as she followed Emma to the food line, but didn’t see Bel.
She noticed something else interesting, however.
“What’s that writing on the walls?” Rose asked Emma.
“The names of every graduating senior are carved on the panels.”
“Since when?”
“Going back, like, to the beginning of time. This is the new part of the dining hall, but if you go to the Commons, where they have the formal dinners, you’ll see names dating back to the early 1800s.”
“Seriously? My father and grandfather went here. Do you think I could find their names?”
Emma looked impressed. “Of course, you just need to know their class year. I had no idea you and Bel were legacies. She never mentioned it.”
“Oh, Bel doesn’t care about that sort of thing.”
“Not care? That’s crazy. My parents grew up in Korea, and even they knew Odell. Once my name gets carved on the wall, I’m not letting anybody forget it.”
They got their food, and made a beeline for a table where some other sophomore girls from Moreland were sitting. Apparently, students sat by class year. Seniors rated the best tables, farthest from the glass doors that admitted cold blasts of air during the bitter New Hampshire winters, closest to the food line. Emma told Rose to never, ever try to sit there. They would chase you away, your name would be mud. Freshmen were relegated to the outskirts, to an area they called Siberia. The other grades filled in the middle. Kids in the fast, popular crowd tended to sit at coed tables, whereas your normals were more likely to sit single-sex, like the Moreland table they were at now.
Skyler was at the Moreland table, sitting next to a girl named Lucy Ogunwe, who ran track and sang in the choir, and was in Rose’s civics class. There were girls Rose recognized, and others she hadn’t met yet. Emma introduced her around, but the glow of welcome was diminished by a flicker of worry when it hit home that Bel wasn’t here. Bel was nowhere to be seen, in fact. At their old school, when Bel didn’t show up to lunch, it usually meant she was ditching.
Toward the end of lunch period, a loud whoop went up from the tables where the seniors sat, and Rose turned to look. A muscular boy with a prominent forehead was wiping a gob of whipped cream from his face while kids around him laughed.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he said, his loud voice carrying in the sudden quiet.
Darcy Madden, identifiable by her bright blond hair, stood beside him, doubled over laughing. The boy grabbed Darcy and smeared the gob of whipped cream on her face. Darcy squealed, then struggled and broke loose, and the two of them ran from the room.
“That’s like something that would happen in my school in L.A.,” Rose said. “Lunch was out of control there.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not normal here. That was Darcy, the one I warned you about, and her boyfriend, Brandon. Those two really push the envelope. Disruptive behavior can get you demerits, you know. The teachers don’t look happy.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Do you see your sister?”
“What? Where?”
“She’s sitting right there,” Emma said, nodding toward the table Darcy had fled from.
Rose following Emma’s gaze and saw Bel, who was fully ensconced, chatting and smiling like she’d known those people forever.
“Oh. That’s where she went.”
Rose was actually relieved to see Bel in the lunchroom. At least she wasn’t off in the woods somewhere, ditching school. But Emma apparently didn’t see it that way.
“Like I was telling you last night,” Emma said, “those seniors are bad news. You need to do something.”
“What should I do?”
“Go over there, talk to her.”
“Now? Really?”
“Yes, really. She’s your twin sister, right? It’s on you to look out for her reputation. If Bel gets in trouble, it’ll reflect badly on you.”
That was a new concept to Rose. Back home, the school was big and impersonal, and nobody cared who your family was, unless they were rich or famous. But what Emma said made sense. At Odell, everybody knew everybody. Heck, her ancestors’ names were carved on the wall. And she didn’t want Bel to get in trouble. She wanted to be a good sister, and help her find her way here.
“You’re right. I’m going to say something,” Rose said.
Rose got up and marched across the dining hall toward the senior tables. Bel saw her coming, and narrowed her eyes, shaking her head slightly to tell Rose to keep away. Rose hesitated. She didn’t want to embarrass her sister in front of the seniors, but she was also conscious of Emma and the other Morelanders watching to see what she would do. She had to do something, right? Emma had said so. She strode up to
