I knock on the door.
A woman who looks a lot like my mom appears on the other side. “Sophia! Look at you!” she says, holding out her arms for a hug. “Absolutely stunning!”
I lean into her, hugging my aunt for the first time in years. Her resemblance to my mom is uncanny, but it’s like they were raised on different planets. Mom is thin, toned, tanned, and always wearing a perfect face of makeup. She gets weekly Botox injections, and bi-weekly hair appointments. My aunt is, well, not that. She’s wrinkly, with gray hairs poking out from her brown locks. She has a little pudge on her stomach, and her nails are unpainted. Her ears devoid of jewelry. But even I have to admit, she looks a lot nicer than my mom. She looks friendly. Caring. Motherly.
“How was your trip?” she asks.
“It was okay.” I glance around the living room. The furniture is old. The couches are floral print. There are tons of knickknacks and plants everywhere. My aunt’s living room looks like something you’d see in an old grandma’s house on television. It’s not horrible or messy or anything, just not what I’m used to. The air smells like chocolate chip cookies though, and I can get behind that.
“Where’s Belle?”
“Oh, she’s at school,” she says. “I had to pull some strings, but I got you in her dorm! Isn’t that great? You won’t have to share with a stranger.”
“The dorms are shared?” I say, curling my lip.
My aunt laughs. “For the most part, yes. Some people are lucky enough to have a private room. Belle’s roommate left in her freshman year and she got moved to a new room. She’s had the room all to herself since then.”
“I don’t want to impose,” I say. “Maybe they could find another empty room for me?”
She laughs again. “Honey, if that were possible, don’t you think your mom would have paid for one by now?”
I roll my eyes at the mention of my mom. “I don’t know what she would do. She clearly hates me for sending me here.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Aunt Kate says. “You’ll get a great education. You want some cookies? I have a fresh batch in the kitchen. You can take the rest with you to Belle.”
My brain feels overworked. Like it’s thinking way too hard, like when I’m trying to work out a complicated calculus problem. And it’s all because I just realized I’ll be living in a dorm. I guess I knew that, deep down, that boarding schools mean dorms, but it hadn’t sunk in until now. Rooming with my cousin should be better in theory, but she isn’t even my friend. Hopefully she’s cool. Maybe if I sweet-talk some people in charge, I’ll be able to get my own room. Or, maybe I can just rent an apartment off campus. That would be perfect. When I mention this last idea to my aunt, she bursts out laughing.
“Honey, they don’t allow students to live off-campus. You have to live in a dorm.”
“Great. Just great.”
“You’ll be fine,” Aunt Kate says. “Here, have a cookie.”
I eat two of the chocolate chip cookies, which are still delightfully warm from the oven, and then my aunt packs the rest up in a plastic container. We get in her car, which is an old Ford SUV thing that has seen better days. I try not to look disgusted. I don’t know why my aunt didn’t take the family money, but she should have. She could be living a much better life than this one with a crappy car and old, small condo. I have no idea how she even affords the tuition for Belle’s schooling.
My aunt chatters away on the drive to the school. It takes exactly two minutes. I didn’t realize she lived so close. Now my nerves are on overdrive. I’m practically on fire with how freaked out I am as we drive up to Shelfbrooke Academy. The campus grounds are huge, over five hundred acres my aunt says, and they’re all contained behind an ancient stone wall. At the entrance, the wall becomes an old stone gate, which we drive through. It looks a lot like the New England ivy league schools, with ancient campus buildings and beautiful old trees, and worn stone pathways connecting them all.
The only difference is that all the students on campus are wearing a uniform.
My aunt drives right up to a building and puts the car in park. “So it’s just down that hallway, to the right. Belle’s dorm is number sixty-two. She’s expecting you. I have to get to work or I’d walk you inside,” she says, looking over at me. Then she frowns. “You okay? You know what, I’ll go inside if you want.”
I shake my head and swallow down my nerves. The last thing I want to do is be brought inside with a parent like I’m some kind of pathetic little kid.
“It’s fine,” I say, offering her the best smile I can muster. “I’ll be fine.”
Aunt Kate smiles and squeezes my hand. She seems to believe me. I really wish I believed myself.
Chapter Four
It’s justafter eleven in the morning, and I don’t see any other students as I walk toward the dorm, rolling my suitcases behind me. There were students walking around when we drove in, but this part of the campus is deserted. You would think that dorm rooms would be filled with people bustling around, but maybe I’m just projecting my love of Gilmore Girls onto reality. Maybe in reality, everyone is in class right now.
Still, my heart pounds and my palms feel sweaty. I’ve never been so horribly out of place in my life. I pull open the door to the building where my aunt had told me to go. Inside, the floors are made of gray marble that looks as ancient as the rest of the building. The left side of the hallway is just a wall with no windows. Framed portraits of important old people line the walls, as well as a bulletin board, and some other plaques. On the right side of the hallway are a bunch of doors. The numbers start at forty. I stand straight, tell myself I’m Sophia Brass, I’m extremely wealthy and popular, and well liked. I can handle this. I walk forward, counting off the doors as the numbers slowly increase, until finally, I’m at number sixty-two. It’s a little frightening how short the distance is between each door. I’m imagining a room the size of a closet when I knock on the ancient wooden door in front of me, the numbers 62 on it in gold embossed numbers.
Several seconds go by and nothing happens. I knock again, louder this time. Maybe the old wooden door is so thick she can’t hear me knocking. Again, nothing.
“Belle?” I call out, pressing my face close to the door. “Are you in there? It’s Sophia.”
The sound of a deadbolt clicks, and then the door slowly opens. A girl’s face appears in the slight open width of the door. It’s Belle. At least I think it is.
