Lost in Thought (3 page)

“No,” I interrupted again. I was determined. “If my father made it an option for me, even a bizarre secret one, he must have thought it would be a good place for me. Uncle Martin agrees. It’s already Octo-ber. If I’m supposed to find a school and stay there, I’d like to start sooner than later. If it’s not creepy, I’ll go there. How soon can we set it up, Uncle Martin?”

Turned out “soon” was by the end of that day. I had all of one day to pack for my new, stationary life. Aunt Tessa, when she wasn’t crying, protested the entire time. I didn’t have to go so soon, I should take time to rest and recover, I shouldn’t feel like I
had
to go to this school, even if it was already paid for, and so on. I kept telling her I
wanted
to, and I kind of did. Uncle Martin personally couriered over all of his literature on the school, and after an hour looking at it and everything I could find online, I honestly thought it looked great.

What I didn’t tell my aunt was that, more than anything, I did
not
want any time to “rest and recover” because I knew all I would do was spend it going crazier. I already had a hard enough time keeping the images of my parents’ spinning car out of my head. Aunt Tessa also tried to insist that she go with me, not only to drop me off, but to stay.

I absolutely refused, which I think made her cry more than anything, and it was all I could do to prove my unwavering love for her company.

I finally convinced her with mostly the truth: I would feel guilty if she gave up her planned projects, and it would not help me recover. I didn’t think I was going to recover anyway, but I
would
feel guilty about Aunt Tessa being stuck in the middle of nowhere with me. In the end, and after a few more tears, she gave in, as I knew she would.

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We left for Northbrook before sunrise on Tuesday and I tried very hard to look forward to it every mile of the way.

I DIDN’T REALIZE I’d fallen asleep until my aunt was whispering my name and gently shaking me awake. As if falling asleep in my first meeting at my new school wasn’t embarrassing enough, I was also pretty sure I snorted, and maybe drooled on myself. Just a little.

Dr. Callahan looked sympathetic though and offered a kindly, “I’m sure you’re tired from your long drive, Miss Young. We’re all set, if you’d like to go to your room and start getting settled?”

Still embarrassed, I nodded, offered a sheepish “thank you,” and was so ready to get out of there.

y room was in a grand building called Marquise House that overlooked the two ponds at the front of campus. It was cer-M tainly impressive, more Gothic than Victorian, with three stories of dark siding, a deep, shaded front porch, and decorative spires at all the many peaks.
So maybe this is where they’re hiding the
creep factor,
I thought as I knocked on the door, but when we were greeted moments later by my dorm attendant, Ms. Kim, we entered into a surprisingly bright—and completely cobweb free—foyer with gleaming woodwork and a large central staircase.

Ms. Kim was a slight, pretty woman with sleek dark hair, equally dark eyes, and creamy skin I could only describe as the color of antique lace. I was at least seven inches taller than she was. But she was friendly and direct, wasting no time getting down to business. “You must be Miss Young. Lainey, correct? Glad to have you. Follow me up to your new room. You’ll be on the third floor. Stairs only, sorry,” she added with a smile. We followed.

As we headed up, she told me I’d be rooming with Amy Moretti, also a junior, and “one of Northbrook’s most promising and popular students.” So no pressure there or anything. I would probably hate

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her. “Miss Moretti,” she continued, “volunteered to share her room with you, since there were no other openings in any of the junior and senior dorms.” Okay, maybe I wouldn’t totally hate her.

Ms. Kim stopped at the end of the third floor hallway and handed over a set of keys. I opened the door into a surprisingly large room, especially considering only one girl had been living in it before my arrival. And though I expected something hastily rearranged with all the best spots already claimed, it was immaculate, divided perfectly equally, and painted a soothing, pale blue color. A large bay window dominated the back wall, with a cozy looking padded sill underneath and two cushy chairs arranged on either side. A blue and cream patterned rug rested in the middle of the room, dotted with plush pillows for loung-ing, and each side of the room boasted a single bed, a small desk with a built in bookshelf, and a tall dresser. One side, obviously meant for me, was bare, save for a neat stack of text and notebooks already delivered and waiting on my desk.

Amy’s bed was covered in a beautiful pale floral comforter that looked about a foot thick, with at least four pillows and a stuffed bear at the head. Her desk was filled with precisely arranged books and papers, a sleeping laptop sitting in the center. A few framed art prints decorated the walls on her side of the room, along with—and this worried me a little—a large, old, and expensive-looking chart of the Periodic Table of Elements. I almost thought it was an antique; it seemed like there were some elements missing from the ends, as far as my very fuzzy memory of it could recall. A door at one end of the room led into a small but sufficient private bathroom with what I assumed was an original claw foot tub with a shower, a pretty pedestal sink, and a classic black and white hexagon tile floor. Like everything else at the school so far, my room was beautiful.

Move-in went pretty quickly, since I hadn’t had time to pack much, and then it was time for Aunt Tessa to leave. But not before she had

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one more cry, this time as she folded the last of my sweaters into their drawer. I hugged her and, to my surprise, I cried a little too.

“I promise I’ll miss you every day, Aunt T,” I told her truthfully.

She pushed my long hair out of my face while her tears dried up, repeating all of the things she’d said before: how she’d miss me, that I had to call her often and let her know I was okay, how I could come home at any time—
any time
—if I didn’t like it here. I nodded, hugged her some more, and then she was gone. Just like that, I was alone.

I looked aimlessly around my room, not exactly sure what to do with myself. I picked the student handbook and campus directory out of the stack on my desk and settled on my bed to familiarize myself with my new life. I promptly fell asleep.

I WAS AWAKENED from an unexpected sleep for the second time that day—I couldn’t deny I was a little exhausted—but this one was not so gentle. The door banged shut, followed by a little scream, and then a softly muttered, “Oops! Oh, shit.” I bolted upright, silently praying I hadn’t snorted and wasn’t drooling again.

“Sorry! Hi! I’m Amy. You’re obviously Lainey, at least I sure hope so, otherwise I don’t know how you got in here, and you’re in the wrong room. I totally wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, but I guess when they said ‘first day’ they meant your first day for classes. Anyway, yeah, wow, you’re gorgeous. I told them if I was taking a roommate, I wanted a hot one, and they delivered! A total heartbreaker, I’m sure.

What have you done so far? Are you all unpacked? Need help?” She ended with a happy and hopeful smile. I was amazed she wasn’t out of breath.

“Hi!” I squeaked, cleared my throat, and tried again. “Uh, hi, yeah, I’m Lainey. It’s nice to meet you. And thanks for volunteering to share your room with me. You didn’t have to do that, and I appreciate it. I didn’t want to room by myself, and I’m glad to be with someone in my grade…”

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While my mouth babbled and then ran out of steam, I observed her. She was adorable, probably five and a half feet tall, and a little overweight, but in a way that really didn’t matter. She was soft curves and all the right proportions. That painter Botticelli would have loved Amy Moretti. Her face was round and clear, with gorgeous olive skin, deep brown eyes, astonishingly perfect eyebrows, pillowy pink lips, and a shoulder-length rush of well-tamed curly brown hair. Effervescent, like soda or champagne, was the best word I could think of to describe her. She practically bubbled with good cheer. I felt pale and subdued in comparison.

“Yeah, me either!” she replied. “I had this great big room to myself and after about three days I was like, ‘well, this is freaking boring,’ and I was planning to change for a roommate in spring semester, but when we heard you were coming and they didn’t know where to put you, I was at Stewart’s office the next day asking them to shove you in here.”

I’d hardly had to be shoved in, considering we almost could have fit a third person in this place,
I thought, before I realized my brain was wandering and I was still sitting on my bed, clutching my student handbook, while Amy was still standing and smiling at me. I recovered my senses and stood up.

“Oh, damn!” she said. “Guess I won’t be borrowing your pants after all.” She held out her hand and I shook it. “Amy Moretti. Nice to meet you. I’m just your average student, no special Legacy status. My dad only contributes in the multiple thousands every year, and I hear it takes at least a multiple of ten of that to get Legacy, so somebody must
really
like you.” She laughed, and I actually laughed too. Her personality was instantly infectious, and I understood what the administrator had meant about Amy being one of the most popular students at Northbrook.

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“Lainey Young,” I replied. “And honestly, my Legacy is a tiny bit of a mystery. It’s anonymous. I’m not sure if my dad established it or not.”

“Huh. Well, I love a good mystery! Are you hungry? I’m hungry, and it’s almost dinner hour. Let’s go on that tour I’m supposed to give you—bring your schedule, okay?—and then get something to eat. You can tell me all about you, and I’ll dish all of Northbrook’s secrets and lies while we’re on the way.”

I WASN’T SURE what her plans were for the future, but Amy would’ve made a great tour guide if she wanted to go that route. The more time I spent with her, I began to think she might be great at whatever she decided to do. She took me around most of campus, pointing out the dorms and who lived there, the class buildings, the common areas— library, dining hall, study lounges and recreation rooms, chapel, fitness center (otherwise known as the gym)—and the administrative buildings, including an infirmary and our very own post office. This place really was a miniature town.

She circled all of my classroom locations in pink marker, drawing arrows between them to indicate my best route each day. We circled back around and she glossed over the faculty housing at the eastern edge of campus. The assortment of houses and cottages abutted the largest stretch of woods surrounding campus, which Amy also noted was full of trails.

“Believe me, it’s no accident you have to pass the faculty-guards to get to them,” Amy explained. “The school goes to
extraoooordinary”
— she drew out the word for emphasis—“measures to protect our virtue and try to keep us from each other…but of course, we’re all pretty smart here, and adults have been failing at protecting kids’ virtues since the beginning of time, so it’s not so hard to get around their extraordinary measures, if you find someone worth sneaking for anyway,

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and there is a pretty healthy selection of candidates, I’ll admit,” she added with a giggle. I smiled back at her.

I wasn’t a girl who’d had a lot of steady boyfriends, seeing as I almost never went to school and never stuck around for more than a few months, but I’d been very practiced at stealing kisses from the sons of my aunt’s customers after all those dinner parties I’d been forced to attend. In the last two years, I’d spent a fair amount of time on college campuses getting chatted up by the freshman and sophomore boys—I’d always looked older than I was anyway—and taken on a lot of dates. My aunt didn’t expect me to be a nun, and she trusted me enough to respect myself and her curfews, both of which I did.

The prospect of being somewhere long enough to have an honest-to-goodness relationship both frightened and thrilled me.

As we finally made it to dinner, right before the main dining hours ended, I filled her in on my personal history, spilling out the entire story of the accident and my bizarre but amazing upbringing. I told her about the headaches and occasional fainting too, but obviously not about the crazy. Still, she was sympathetic.

“Oh, that totally sucks. And I’m sorry about your parents, but your aunt sounds amazing. I only wish I’d been half the places you’ve been, though Cleveland isn’t that exciting, I bet. My dad’s just a doctor in Boston, and my mom’s chief occupation is me, though since I’ve been here since seventh grade, I’m not entirely sure what she does with herself all day anymore…”

We filled our plates and plunked down at a table while she continued in her fast, but enchanting, way of talking. “Seriously though, I hope you’re not bored out of your pretty skull here, after your life on the road. I like it though…the classes aren’t boring and some of the kids are spoiled babies, but most of them are pretty cool. The town’s not big, but it’s nice, and we’re kept pretty busy anyway.” Amy, I was

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beginning to realize, could carry a conversation by herself better than anyone I’d ever met. I was quickly in danger of liking her immensely.

Amy waved hello to a few people as we sat down, but no one joined us. “I told everyone to leave me alone when you finally got here,” she confided, “so I could have at least a few hours to get to know my new roommate myself. Pretty much all the rest of us have been here since at least freshman year, or earlier, and I wanted to keep them from pouncing on the fresh blood before you’ve even been here twenty-four hours.”