My roommate had the personality of a tepid cup of Earl Grey.

Jane, a biology major from somewhere called Upstate New York, she had practically shriveled away from my hand when I’d offered it in introduction. So far, she’d spoken all of three words, and had eyed my rather extravagant, compared to hers, decor with mild horror.

Maybe it was because the second of my three Kate Moss prints featured her bare nipples …

I wasn’t too worried though, she seemed rather harmless. I could use some harmless in my life right now, since the girls I’d met thus far at Jade Mountain were about as nice as a dagger held to my throat.

Adjusting to a roommate would be a bit of a different experience for me; in Paris, I had my own flat in a very posh building in the city center. I was used to two thousand square feet, a balcony overlooking the Eiffel tower, and a waterfall shower with a sunken tub next to it.

In the States, I shared a room the size of a shoe box with a stranger, had to enter the hallway to get to the shower, which I needed to wear flip-flops in, and could hear the neighbor upstairs bouncing a basketball on the ceiling at all hours.

But it was kind of fun, this new experience, and I’d said I wanted to be fully immersed, so I was up for anything.

I’d gone to bed last night wondering if perhaps I should hide a knife in my bedside table; after all, I didn’t really know Jane from a hole in the wall. But the jet lag had won out, and this morning when I’d woken around seven a.m., she was already gone.

Looking at her side of the room, I saw she’d hung a poster of the periodic table, and her desk was already cluttered with books and beakers. Where she’d gone this early, I had no clue, but at least I got the room to myself to get ready. Something told me she might not appreciate Ellie Goulding at full volume in the morning … or anytime at all.

This was fine, I thought to myself as I turned my curling iron on. I didn’t need to be bum buddies with my roommate, and at least she was quiet and seemed tidy.

An hour later and I’m headed out to my eight-thirty class, Notes and Bouquets. An entire class on smelling wine, at eight o’clock in the morning. Who said university was hard?

The grounds were bustling with students, move-in day having come and gone in a flurry of commotion, suitcases, crying parents and returning students eager to see their friends. Part of me had gotten a twinge of homesickness, watching all of those families say their goodbyes. Not that my parents had bothered to keep tabs on me in the past five or so years, ever since Dad’s career blew up.

Our lives had changed so much since the days in our two-bedroom flat in Liverpool, in some ways for the better and some ways, for the worse. We had more bloody money than we’d ever be able to count, we wanted for nothing. No one had to decide between groceries for the month or paying the electric bill. I got a top-class education, and my Mum never had to work another day in her life.

But … we weren’t really the family we’d once been. My parents were constantly jet setting to a new shooting location, or attending some swanky party. At first, when my Dad had landed the role on Britain’s favorite primetime TV show, they had promised that we’d always be a unit. But slowly, and as the privileged lifestyle crept into the corners of our lives, they’d stopped asking where I’d been. The freedom, especially with the kind of money and power I now possessed, was heady for a mere fifteen-year-old. I’d loved that I didn’t have to answer to adults anymore.

It wasn’t until much later that I realized they were trying to replace love with money, gifts with caring. Neither of them had even mentioned coming to visit me in the States, much less helping me move in.

I shook the cobwebs of sadness off with a flick of my blond curls, and stood staring up at the majestic clock tower that surveyed the student quad.

I spotted Gretchen clomping across campus in snakeskin boots that would look ridiculous on anyone else in Vermont, but for some reason she was totally pulling them off. She was arm-in-arm with a tall brunette chap, and one look at her possessive hand on his arm told me that this was her boyfriend. Poor lad, he was probably more whipped than a horse in a polo match.

I didn’t let her see me, not wanting to break her and Nina’s precious rules. But as I turned to walk to the building my class was in, Northwright Hall, a voice caught me.

“You were at the boathouse the other night, weren’t you?”

I turn to see a short girl on my left, her features like a pixie, with a cute brown long bob to match. I want to call her Tinkerbell, but I refrain. I look around, waiting to see if this is a trap.

Tinkerbell, okay so I refer to her as that in my head, drops her voice to a whisper. “I was one of the other pledges.”

She probably shouldn’t even be addressing me like this, because we weren’t supposed to talk about anything to do with Charter House. But I wasn’t scared of those girls, and I hadn’t had much friendly female interaction here yet.

So I bit. “I’m Eloise, nice to officially meet you.”

She smiles with relief. “Abby. I can’t even tell you how jumpy I’ve been since that meeting.”

I snort. “It was all pretty mystical, huh? What’s the deal with them, anyway?”

Abby’s short locks move on the wind as she turns to watch Gretchen greet two other girls in impeccable outfits across the quad. “That redhead is Kendall James, she’s been a Charter girl since her freshman year, which is almost unheard of. And the other one is Uma, her family is like Native American royalty or something. And of course, you know Gretchen.”

I stand with Abby, watching the group. “I couldn’t find much about these so-called social clubs on Google.”

“Well, you wouldn’t, would you? They’re highly secretive. I’m a junior and all I’ve heard are whispered rumors … I’m surprised I even got tapped. But my father recently moved into a highly regarded political role, and I’m top of my class, so maybe that’s why. And clearly, we know why you were chosen. Are you nervous?”

She may be seeking me out because of camaraderie, but I don’t want to squander the opportunity to make a friendly face. “I guess more … anxious. I’ve dealt with the mean girls, and the sly birds. It’s the tasks that have my head in knots, but I guess that’s the fun part, right? We can all stick together through it, right?”

Abby smiles, and I think I like Tinkerbell. “Absolutely. If nothing else, I hear the parties are incredible.”

“I love me a good party. I’m walking toward Northwright, where are you headed?” I’m a little ashamed that I have to pull my map out. The campus is still surprisingly confusing, and I’m not the sharpest when it comes to directions.

“All of my classes are in Gobin, the science building. I’m an engineering major, and most of my pre-reqs were already completed before my freshman year. Technically, I’ll go onto the graduate program next semester.” She shrugs, walking in the direction we both need to go.

I follow closely, shouldering the cute leather satchel I’d picked up in a boutique in Munich specifically for school here. “So, you’re saying that if I need any course help, I’ll come to you.”

She laughed, nodding. “I’m always happy to help.”

We part ways when the path splits, going to our respective buildings on either side of the lawn. 

“I guess I’ll see you in the next dark corridor we bump into each other in.” I wave.

Abby’s grin is made of secrets. “Looking forward to it.”