I’m cackling as I skip past the gorgeous fountain at the university entrance, on my way to orientation. It’s late summer and the air is heavy with heat and humidity. In the sunny beds outside the main administration building, the bees are browsing over the cone flowers and bergamot. I wave to them and trot up the steps.
According to my research, most colleges have a welcome week. Unitas is slightly different. Non-legacy first years are invited to move in early June in order to take a semester-long orientation class that will teach them about Unitas’s unique academic environment.
It’s perfect, since I’ve been homeschooled for the past couple of years. My only experience of high school comes from binge-watching Vampire Varsity, my favorite show. Papa and I decided that this orientation would help me acclimate, so I moved from our city home into an ivy-covered house within walking distance from campus.
So here I am, bright and early for orientation, carrying a box of cronuts fresh from the bakery. I pause before the white columns of the Greek Revival building. It’s so grand, I feel transported to another time.
This place is awesome!
But I also feel like someone is watching me. I turn and scan the line of hundred-year-old oak trees, but other than a few students and robe-wearing professors hurrying down the paths, there’s no one around. Everyone’s focused on their destination or their cell phones. No one is watching me.
I must be imagining things.
I head inside the admin building, where it’s blissfully cool, and my sneakers squeak on the marble floor.
I slow down and try to stuff down my excitement. The hall is full of students like me. Which is perfect for my plans. No, I’m not about to go supervillain on these poor defenseless first years. Today, unlocking full-blown villain status will have to wait because I have another goal in mind.
I’m going to make a friend.
I pick up my welcome packet, find a seat to dump it and my pink backpack, and survey the room. Who are my prospects?
There’s a group of young women in the corner. They’re a bit preppy in white tennis skirts and pink tops.
I like pink. I wouldn’t pair athleisure attire with a pearl necklace the way all these women have, but I’m willing to overlook a few flaws in a potential friend.
I grab my box of cronuts and head over there, holding the pastries as bait.
“Hi,” I say to the nearest one. She’s tall and thin with warm brown skin and perfectly glossy black hair. A huge tennis bracelet sparkles on her wrist. She glances at me as I launch into my spiel.
“I’m Bella. I’m starting school here in the fall. Would you like a cronut?”
“Ugh, no,” she wrinkles her nose like I offered her a box of dog poop. “I’m off carbs.”
“Me too,” adds a pale brunette across from her. The rest of the women look at me with disgust. Then the dark-haired beauty turns her back, blocking me out.
I can hear them murmuring about me. After a moment, they start laughing. The tips of my ears heat, but I keep cool. Guess I’ve just met some mean girls, like the cheerleader ghouls in Vampire Varsity.
That’s okay. Onward!
I move away, heading toward the back of the room. There’s something beyond this room that looks a little like a library. Before I can enter, a college employee blocks the way and shakes his head at me. “No food in the reading room.” Okay, denied again.
I find myself near a grand arched window. A young woman stands there, bathed in sunlight. She looks spotlit from above, as if the hosts of heaven have conspired to be her lighting team, her hair set in perfect curls that frame her lovely profile.
She’s so gorgeous, if she walked onto the set of Vampire Varsity, they’d cast her as the lead on the spot.
She also looks a little lost. There’s a longing in her gaze as she looks out over the immaculate grounds.
She startles and turns, catching me staring.
“Hey,” I say, trying not to be a creepy weirdo. “Uh, I like your outfit. I’ve never seen a pink suit before.”
“Oh. Thank you.” Her long eyelashes flutter. Her makeup is flawless, highlighting her light brown eyes and golden brown skin.
My heart sinks. She’s so gorgeous and put together, she’s probably a mean girl, too. No diamond tennis bracelet, but she’s wearing large silver hoop earrings and a silver chain around her neck. The necklace holds some sort of charm on the end, but I can’t see it because it disappears below her neckline.
“Didn’t mean to bother you.”
“No, you’re too kind,” she says. “I’m Honey. Nice to meet you.” She holds out her hand in a formal, practiced move, and then freezes when she realizes I have to juggle the cronut box to shake it. “Uhhh…”
