Freddie guffaws and even slaps the edge of the table, but Iremain quiet. I might have set out to stir the pot by mentioning Connor’s visit to our room yesterday, but Freddie has it bubbling over.
Priya and Abigail have their heads drawn close together, Priya executing a perfect pantomime of fervent apology. What does she have to say sorry for?
“Hi! Are you Belinda?”
I jerk my head up to find a girl standing behind Freddie. Her expression is open and friendly, and she’s got a wide smile on her face, revealing perfectly straight teeth. “Um, yes?”
“I’m Sophia Harrington.” She offers a friendly wave.
“The headmaster’s daughter,” Priya adds, her voice barely above a whisper.
Sophia’s smile fades the slightest bit at Priya’s comment. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
Priya shrugs but otherwise doesn’t say another word.
“Well. I came over to ask if you wanted someone to walk you to your first class? Maybe even show you around campus, if you’d like.” Sophia’s attention never strays from me. “I know coming to a new school can be rough, especially when you don’t know anyone.”
“That would be great, thanks.” And then, because it really was shitty of Priya not to wake me up this morning, I look directly at her when I add, “A warm welcome is so appreciated.”
Before Priya can fire back a snarky remark, a shrill bell cuts through the din.
“That’s the warning bell. We should go.” Sophia waves a hand. “Come on, Belinda.”
I do as she says and stand before I grab my tray. I head toward one of the trash bins near a set of double doors. Sophiakeeps pace, chattering about the history of Wickham and how old the dining hall is. Quickly, I glance over my shoulder to see no one is watching us. They’re still sitting at the table and leaning in, as if they’re all having a whispered conversation.
About me?
Probably.
Though something tells me there’s never been a shortage of gossip at Wickham.
CHAPTER SIX
Sophia’s lush, dark-brown curls glisten in the autumn light as she leads us across the central courtyard. I’m momentarily mesmerized by the perfectly applied, pinkish-gold highlighter dusting her tawny cheeks. Have I ever been that put together in my life? Belinda Winters has a long way to go before she can believably play in the same league as Sophia Harrington, but standing next to her, I feel more than ever like Billie.
“It looked like things were getting a bit … intense in there,” she says, her accent soft and melodic to my ear.
I have to take a moment to breathe in Belinda despite feeling so woefully inadequate next to this perfect specimen of private school polish. I paste a sheepish grin on my face and say, “You could say that. Thanks for the save, by the way. I may have dived into the deep end when I only meant to dip a toe.”
“You couldn’t possibly have known how dangerous those waters are,” she answers. “To say the sharks are circling is probably a gross understatement.”
NowthisI recognize immediately. Sophia is in possession of tea, and she wants nothing more than to spill it. I raise an inquisitive eyebrow when she glances my way.
“Well, ever since the incident”—she pauses until I nod— “things have been strained to say the least. The girl who died, Emily Wells? She was Priya’s roommate.”
I suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed sends a shiver racing down my spine. “Should I feel some kind of way about taking a dead girl’s room assignment?”
Sophia sends me a kind smile, though her too-white teeth have a wolfish gleam.
“The way I see it, almost all of us are sleeping in beds that used to be occupied by students who are dead now. Your bed is just on an accelerated timeline.”
“Dark but logical,” I say, pursing my lips like I’m really giving this some thought. “You’re not wrong.”
Sophia waves to a few students walking by and calls out to one about a study date later today. I’m not here to make snap judgments, and I know Peter wants me to keep an open mind, but my gut tells me Sophia is a genuinely good person—the kind of girl who sees a transfer student sitting at a table full of sharks and decides to rescue her before she’s turned into chum.
“So … Harrington,” I say, drawing Sophia’s attention back to me. Her eyes are light brown, almost hazel, and accentuated by retro-looking black-framed glasses. “Is it tough being the headmaster’s daughter? Like, socially I mean?”
She looks a bit taken aback, and it’s only after I repeat the words in my head that I hear how nosy they sound.
