The dining hall is cavernous.
Vaulted ceilings stretch overhead like a cathedral, chandeliers hanging low on chains of dark brass. Long banquet-style tables line the room—polished wood, silver trays, and elegant place settings that’d look more fitting in a five-star restaurant than a school cafeteria. Food is set out buffet-style along one wall, gleaming under warm lights. Eggs, pastries, berries arranged like someone painted them.
Fresh bread, citrus, and roasted coffee beans fill my nose. My stomach growls.
Students stream in through arched doorways, laughing, gossiping, and dragging their blazers off to toss them over chairs like royalty. Everyone knows where they’re going. Everyone has a place.
I grab a tray and fill up a plate. I’m hungry but the way my stomach keeps flipping, I’m unsure if I should eat at all.
Dakota’s already seated at one of the long tables near the tall windows, sunlight casting soft gold through the glass and into her hair. She’s laughing at something one of the girls next to her has said, one hand wrapped around a coffee mug. She looks so at ease. Effortlessly at home.
And then she sees me.
Her face lights up. She lifts her hand and waves me over, making space on the bench beside her.
I’m surprised by how much relief that tiny gesture brings. I cross the room, heart thudding a little too fast.
“Morning,” she says as I slide into the seat next to her.
“Hey,” I manage, setting down my tray. “Hope I’m not crashing anything.”
“We’re sisters now.” She nudges my arm. “You’re supposed to sit with me.”
I let out a quiet breath of a laugh and look down at my plate.
Her voice lowers slightly, just for me. “Did you sleep okay?”
I nod. “Better than I expected.”
“Good. Today’s going to be a whirlwind, but I’ve got you. Don’t stress too much about first impressions. Most people know each other from high school.”
I glance at her, surprised again. “You’re… really good at this.”
She shrugs and pops a piece of toast in her mouth. “Being nice?”
“Being a person.”
She snorts. “Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation.”
I smile and she gives me a wink.
“Okay,” she says, tapping her spoon on the edge of her plate for attention. “Everyone, this is Isobel—my sister.”
The heads around the table turn. A mix of girls and a couple of boys, all perfectly put together in their tailored uniforms and sleek hairstyles. They look like they belong on the cover of a magazine titled Elite & Effortless.
Dakota gestures down the line. “That’s Callie, Brynn, Evie, Tammy—don’t let her borrow your eyeliner—and that’s Rowen. The only boy here with an actual personality.”
Rowen gives a lazy salute with his juice glass. “Welcome to the madhouse.”
I nod, trying to keep track of the names. My brain latches onto Brynn = red lipstick, Callie = high bun, Rowen = personality. The rest blur into a wash of designer perfume and private school polish.
“I love your hair,” Brynn says, tilting her head slightly. “Those waves are so soft. Is that natural?”
“Oh—uh, yeah.” I tuck a strand behind my ear and try to smile. “Mostly.”
“Seriously, you’re stunning,” Callie says with a little grin. “Like, your bone structure? Unfair.”
I blink. “Oh. Thanks. Um… yours too.”
