also had brought the most stuff out of anybody I’d ridden in with. I’d gotten a lot of looks throughout the ride, and I assumed that was why, although that annoying part of me felt kind of sure I had a big embarrassing something somewhere on me. According to the snotty girl sitting in front of me—who seemed intent on informing me without speaking directly to me—everyone always leaves their things in their rooms over the summer. Still, weren’t there freshmen and transfers? Why was it so weird I should have a year’s worth of things before living somewhere for a year?
“Miss?”
I turned and saw a guy with a flashlight and a notepad.
“Yes?”
“Do you need to check in some luggage?”
“Check in?”
“There’s only a service elevator, so we just take it up for you.”
His practiced tone told me that he’d had to explain this many times.
“Oh.” I smiled. “Okay, great. I was wondering how I was going to bring it all in.” I gave a small laugh, and he smiled politely back at me.
“Write down your student ID number and room number here, please.” He handed me a clipboard. I filled out the indicated lines, referencing the letter I’d gotten over the summer for both, and handed it back. “Thanks, it should be up there soon.”
He slapped stickers on my things, and another guy put them into a cart. I followed everyone else up the walkway toward the school, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. I would not be intimidated by this place. I refused. I ignored that little voice in my head again.
As I walked down the path, I remembered when I was thirteen and looking at pictures of Manderley. I’d imagined myself prancing down this very path full of optimism, maybe already with a brand-new friend acquired on the ride in, ready to have an adventure.
I felt a little silly thinking about it, but something in me still had a flicker of that same excitement.
Once in the hall, I saw that there was a woman directing each wave of students to a line for the cell phone drop. Yes. Oh-ho yes.
The cell phone drop. In an effort to be more “traditional,” the school mandated that we could use cell phones only between seven and nine at night or on weekends, and we had to check them out, leaving our room keys behind as collateral. Leah and I’d read all about it in the letters. We’d sat on her back porch in the gray-blue of a mosquitoey twilight waiting for her dad to finish grilling the burgers and hot dogs, and read all about the new restrictions I’d be living with.
I’d be living in a dorm with a girl I’d never yet spoken to, sleeping in a twin-size bed. There would be no interdorm visitation between guys and girls, no social-networking sites except on a special computer in the library. We’d be wearing uniforms, and, perhaps most disappointingly as a new student with no friends here, the no cell phones thing.
It was like prison. Without visitors.
After reluctantly dropping off my beloved, brand-new iPhone and getting my key, I realized I didn’t know where to go.
I got up the nerve and approached two girls standing by the stairs. “Hi, um, I’m sorry, but do any of you know which way I go to get to room fifteen?”
The girls exchanged a meaningful look I didn’t understand. I resisted the urge to shrink away.
The brunette with big pearl earrings and a very thin nose tossed her hair and looked at me. “So you’re the new girl?”
“Yes, I’m—”
“Great. My name is Julia, and this is Madison. We live right across from you.”
“Oh, good.” I smiled.
She did not.
“You can follow us, we’re going up.”
“Okay.”
Follow seemed like a weird word to choose. Walk with. Or, come with. Instead, I got trail pitifully behind like a stray cat.
They started off, and I tried to keep up.
“So did you two know whoever used to live in my room?”
Another exchanged look.
The one called Julia looked straight ahead and responded, “Yep.”
“Ah.” I nodded. Trying to fill the silence I said, “That cell phone drop blows, doesn’t it? How do you guys survive?”
Madison looked back at me. “You get used to it.”
It was clear that I shouldn’t ask any more. I stayed silent for the next two flights.
The hallway was all open doors and girls gabbing and shrieking. The noise quieted as we walked up. Everyone was looking at us. Or at me. I didn’t know whether to wave or what, so I just walked on.
“There it is,” Julia said, and pointed at the only shut door on the hall.
Everyone was silent now, and no one tried to conceal their stares.
I went for the knob, hesitated, and then knocked. No answer. Pushing the door open, I was surprised to find that the lights were on and my roommate was there, reading a book.
“Hi, are you Dana?” I asked, and then realized that both sides of the room were fully decorated. “Am I in the wrong room?”
Was that why everyone had stared? They were just trying to embarrass me for some reason?
“No.”
“No you’re not … Dana, or—”
“You’re in the right place,” she said impatiently, not looking up at me. A curtain of shiny black hair hid her face.
I stood there, feeling like an idiot. She wasn’t being helpful at all, but still I felt like I was harping on the subject. “Sorry, but … then why is there someone else’s stuff over there?”
“Those are Becca’s things.”
Another few seconds of silence passed as she slowly, deliberately, turned a page in her book.
“Um. Okay.” I cleared my throat again and shifted my weight to my left foot, still aware of the quiet outside as everyone listened to this conversation. It seemed that Dana would be perfectly content with me standing here for the rest of my life trying to figure out if, in fact, I should take another step in or not.
Finally she revealed to me her face. She looked like a skeleton. The skin that stretched over her high, sharp-looking cheekbones was as white as Julia’s pearls. Her lashes were black and long, and trimmed narrow eyes. Thick black liner encircled them, and she looked distinctly exotic. I didn’t think I’d ever seen someone who looked quite like her.
I immediately felt the twinge of intimidation.
“Is
