hat’s Watson Hall, the upper girls’ dorm.” Von pointed out a building across the commons the size of a small hotel, similar in style to the place we’d just left, its many windows sparkling in the autumn sunshine.
“Guys are allowed in the common rooms until ten o’clock,” he added, like I should expect to see him hanging out there a lot. “Further down is Hale Hall, which is where I room.” He pointed to another large structure not too far away.
We took a gravel pathway cutting through the park. Von kept up a running patter, which I listened to with half an ear. I tuned in when he tugged open the front door of my new home and said, “There are vending machines on the top floor. I recommend the Doritos dinamita mojo criollos.” I didn’t know what language he spoke but nodded anyway. “Check in with your house mother, and she’ll take you from there.”
The moment I’d been dreading most, meeting Hayden Frasier, had arrived, but there was no putting it off any longer. “Thanks, Von. I really appreciate all your help.”
He held the door for me, looking pleased.
I stiffened at the high-pitched shrieks and laughter bouncing down the stairwell and into the busy lobby. I felt like a bird who’d fallen out of the nest and been raised by another species. Suddenly, my cage door had opened, and I was expected to soar with the rest of the flock. There was a reason creatures like these were never returned to the wild.
A frizzy-haired older woman with pale, watery eyes waved me over to the reception desk. She wore a broken-down cardigan over a shapeless brown dress, and bifocals perched on the end of her nose. She inspected me with a practiced eye before her narrow face rearranged itself into the mandatory expression of welcome.
“Welcome to Watson Hall,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Stanton, the housemistress. You must be our new senior.” I must have made the right noises because she nodded. “Let me call a prefect to take you to your room.” It took only a moment for her to pluck a girl out of the stream flowing past. “Sarah Jane!”
A sharp-eyed girl with delicate features and skin the color of well-steeped tea broke off and trudged over, her dark hair pulled back into such a severe knot, I wondered if her eyebrows lowered when she let it down.
Mrs. Stanton made the introductions. “This is Sarah Jane Chopra, one of the prefects. Think of her as an extension of my authority. Sarah Jane, this is Hayden Frasier’s new roommate, Riley Collins.”
She blinked a few times in surprise before her features settled into a blank slate. The girl would be a wicked chess opponent if she played.
“She’s in 312.” Mrs. Stanton held up a key attached to an ornate fob in the shape of a W.
Sarah Jane snagged the key. “This way,” she said without pausing to see if I followed.
We marched past old, dark wood paneling, vintage carpets in hues of scarlet and gold, and crystal chandeliers. The place looked like it had been built in the same era as the great hall, but as the shiny elevator doors slid silently open, you could tell no expense had been spared to bring it up to date.
“Mandatory study periods are on school nights from 7:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m., and there’s no changing seats once the study bell rings,” she droned in a British accent not quite as posh as those of the English diplomats I’d met through the years. More conservatively dressed than the other girls, she wore a baggy crewneck sweater and a knee-length skirt. Maybe she thought it made her look more in charge. “Curfew’s at ten, and you better hope you’re dead if you miss it, because otherwise I will kill you.”
After my ordeal with McKenna, there was no way some little overlord of the hallways would be pushing me around. “Listen, Sarah Jane…”
“Where did you transfer from?” Behind a pair of oversized glasses, Sarah Jane didn’t appear at all interested, but she’d neatly cut me off.
“Homeschooled,” I said flatly.
“You’ve never been to a boarding school before?” She suddenly perked up, but in the same way a cat did when a mouse ran across its paws.
“Nope,” I answered, now completely wary.
“Well,” she said, facing forward as the elevator slid to a halt, “this should be interesting.”
The doors reopened on a party. Girls mingled in the hallway, yelling over each other and the music blaring out of a nearby room. New arrivals were treated to hugs and squeals, and new clothes and tans exclaimed over. Someone’s black-suited driver wheeled a cart stacked with expensive trunks and luggage down the hall while the few remaining parents looked on indulgently.
I followed in Sarah Jane’s wake as she barged through it all, though nobody acknowledged her or even gave her a second glance. It appeared the prefect’s high opinion of her authority wasn’t shared by anyone else.
We reached room 312, and Sarah Jane zipped through the open door. I walked in a bit more slowly. Another huge disappointment might send me right over the edge.
I took two steps into the room and halted in surprise. I’d always imagined dorm rooms to be little more than prison cells with barely enough room for a narrow cot and maybe a washstand. Sort of like Jane Eyre goes to college.
This was more like Eloise at The Ritz. A bank of six-pane windows with a built-in window seat centered the elegant space, a sizable room painted moss green with splashes of fresh white trim. Pretty white bedroom sets on either side mirrored one another.
One bedroom set was completely decked-out, as if an interior design fairy had waved a magic wand over a high-end home catalog. Bedding, throw pillows, accent rugs, and wall hangings in shades complimentary to the room were perfectly arranged. The other side was naked by comparison, but at least a fresh stack of snowy bed linens and fluffy towels had been left on the bare mattress. My luggage had found its way to the room and now sat neatly stacked next to a giant armoire.
Two girls stared at us from their perch on the wide window seat. I immediately recognized Hayden, who except for a scowl looked just as fabulous in person. Thin and with legs that went on for miles, her skin glowed like she’d just spent a month at the beach, which according to her file, she had. Stephen Frasier had a collection of houses around the world, several of them in tropical locations.
The other girl wasn’t nearly as striking, but neither did she look like she planned to poison my tea at the first opportunity. Her long, thick curls were a rich shade of brown, her curvy figure probably left guys panting after her in the hallways, and her skin was so clear, no freckle would dare come within fifty feet. I recognized the Prada boots she wore as a seriously expensive pair I’d tried on at Barney’s.
Sarah Jane zeroed in on Hayden’s displeasure. “Planned on having the place to yourself, huh, Frasier?”
“Bite me, Chopra,” Hayden snapped, flipping her off.
“Meet your new roommate, Riley Collins,” she said with way too much glee. “Riley, this is Hayden Frasier and Quinn Sheffield.”
“Hey,” Quinn said with a cheerful wave, though Hayden quickly shut her down with a glare.
Sarah Jane avidly watched the scene unfold. All she needed was a bag of popcorn to enjoy the show. I had no clue why there was so much hostility in the room, but the prefect had to go.
“Thanks a lot, Sarah Jane,” I said in the dismissive tone Benson used on raw recruits. “I’ve got it from here.”
She shot me a look mirroring Hayden’s, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.
When it was just the three of us, Quinn looked to Hayden. “Why don’t we give Riley some space,” she suggested. “I heard there’s pizza in the common.”
Hayden unfolded herself from the bench. She moved to the door but paused, resentment evident in her rigid stance. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” I said, completely done with this whole miserable day. I was sick of everyone acting like I’d been shoved down their throats.
Hayden stalked from the room, but Quinn followed more slowly. “Hayden was supposed to room with Rose Winters this year,” she said. “They were roommates last year, and this year was supposed to be epic, being seniors and all.”
“So what happened?” I asked, my clipped tone stopping Quinn at the door. “Where is this Rose?”
Her features arranged themselves into an expression of sympathy, with perhaps a touch of satisfaction as well. “You didn’t hear? Rose is dead.”
I spent the rest of Sunday afternoon thinking about ways to kill “Aunt” Karen and getting settled in. How dare she overlook such a crucial detail? There was a reason Harrington didn’t admit seniors; they had to wait for one of them to die to make room! What else was out there waiting to ambush me?
I yanked sheets onto the bed as I fumed, dumped my beauty products into the only empty drawer remaining in the bathroom, and stowed everything else in the armoire. It had loads of hanging space as well as drawers, a shoe rack, and multi-paneled doors that became full-length mirrors when you folded them back.
The only things I took out of my disreputable duffle before jamming it under the bed were the going away presents from my dad and Benson. The custom carved chess set from Dad went right on my nightstand, but Benson’s parting gift had to be stored a bit more discreetly.
Some honorary uncles might give you jewelry or a computer. Not Benson. He’d proudly presented me with a top-of-the-line Taser with a twenty-five-foot range. It was a good thing I didn’t have to go through the usual airport screenings.
“Remember how to use one?” he’d asked.
It couldn’t be simpler. “Point and shoot.”
He’d also included several compressed gas cartridges for quick reloads. Nothing says love like giving the gift of incapacitating your enemy. It went into my new Céline handbag for quick access.
Finally winding down, hunger pangs struck. Quinn had mentioned there was pizza in the common room, so I wandered down to the end of the hall. Spacious and airy, its windows offered unobstructed views of Harrington Hall on one side, the winding Connecticut River on the other. A mixed group of students sprawled out on the two enormous curved sofas dominating the space, with low-slung game tables set at intervals along the sides. A giant flat screen commanded the entire wall in front of the area, while an open kitchen and three round dining tables were set up behind.
Best of all, there was no sign of Hayden. I didn’t know how I’d react if she came at me again, but better it happen without the dozen or so people in the room to witness and spread gossip. Some were glued to a rerun of a mindless sitcom, while others read or played backgammon.
No one appeared to notice as I rummaged through the boxes of cold pizza on the kitchen counter, grabbing a few slices of pepperoni and onion before silently drifting back to my room like the resident ghost.
I checked my phone about a thousand times through the evening, waiting for the time my dad would normally be reading his morning emails. I desperately needed to see a friendly face even if it was a continent away, but I wasn’t going to wake him up a second night in a row. Thankfully, I was still alone when the time arrived.
His face appeared within moments of logging onto Skype. Still unshaven, he wore a sweaty T-shirt, with a white towel carelessly tossed over one shoulder. A trip to the embassy’s gym had left his face flushed but instead of chugging water, he swilled coffee.
“Hey Dad,” I greeted him, determined to put a good face on it, “still no sleep last night?”
His crow’s feet crinkled as he smiled. “It doesn’t feel the same around here without you, but don’t worry, I’ll adjust. Is that your room?”
I slowly spun my new computer—maybe Karen did come with a few perks—in a 360. “Can you believe this place?”
He let out a low whistle. “How many roommates do you have?”
“Just the one,” I said, keeping an ear out for her. I started to tell him about my painful meeting with Mrs. McKenna when Benson bellowed, “Are you talking to our girl?”
Dressed for the day in his usual white cotton button-down, Benson’s beaming face popped up over my dad’s shoulder. “Darlin’ girl! Are they rolling out the red carpet for you there?”
“Well,” I hemmed, knowing he would reach through the screen if he could and throttle anyone who was less than welcoming. “I just got here. I haven’t had a chance to really meet anyone yet.”
His eyes narrowed under bushy brows. “I see,” he said darkly. “You let me know if anyone gives you any flack, and I’ll be more than happy to call in an air strike.”
Dad cupped his chin and sighed. He was well used to hearing Benson’s outsized responses to anything that troubled me. “If you are done threatening to blow up a lovely part of the eastern seaboard, I’d like to hear more about the school.”
“Well, there’s a new female head of security that I’m supposed to meet with,” I volunteered. “Do either of you know a Major Taylor?”
They exchanged a look that spoke volumes.
“Uh, is it Grace Taylor, by any chance?” The deceptively casual tone in Benson’s voice could only mean one thing.
I rolled my eyes, thrilled to focus on something other than my misery. “Exactly how many ex-girlfriends do you have out there?”
Benson loved women, and they loved him right back. Romance in the workplace was frowned upon, but the only eligible women he met were fellow military personnel. There was little danger of forming permanent attachments because no one ever got stationed anywhere for long. It guaranteed an easy out when the relationship had run its course–at least from his point of view. He’d left a trail of broken hearts from Washington to Dubai.
“It’s not like that,” he protested. “Okay, maybe it is, but Grace is different.” I watched in amazement as the fearless warrior fell silent and stared at his shoes. My dad, on the other hand, practically chortled.
I threw up my hands. “So, who is this Grace Taylor?”
“The only woman who ever dumped our oversized Romeo here,” Dad laughed.
“Ancient history,” Benson muttered, brushing it off.
I grinned. “You know what they say about history. History is her story, too.”
We all spent a few more minutes chatting about anything other than Major Taylor before we agreed it was getting late. I wasn’t tired, but if we kept talking, eventually it would slip out how cold and lonely it was here. From my dad’s expression, he’d already figured it out. It’s not like I expected Hayden to welcome me like a long-lost sister, but her bone-chilling reception and McKenna’s outright hostility left me fighting back despair.
With curfew fast approaching, I decided to go to bed rather than face Hayden again tonight. As it turned out, I had no idea what time she returned because, surprisingly, I instantly fell asleep.