—
By the timeI made my way upstairs to rejoin the Sterling initiation, my vision had softened. I forgot my nerves, and everything after felt like a dream.
Everyone was lively, candles flickered against the wall, and the air smelled sweet. After being drenched in champagne, I stood in a line at the top of the stairs with the other new members in nothing but our underwear as confetti floated down around us. My hair dripped onto my shoulders as I hugged myself, shivering with anticipation.
This was the moment Daisy had hinted at. The tradition I’d been waiting for.
Self-conscious, I looked down at my boy shorts and plain bra for a moment, until someone shouted excitedly, “You’re next!”
One by one, members passed us over their heads as if we werequeens and kings crowd-surfing through our palace, the rumble of a whole room cheering for us while we floated through the air.
A warm sensation spread through me, and every brush over my skin gave me goosebumps as they supported my body like the many hands of an otherworldly creature. I gazed up at the crystal chandelier as I drifted down the grand staircase ever so slowly, the edges of my vision soft, lights overhead glowing bright white and surreal.
Before I knew what was happening, a rush of wind and movement made me gasp. I was being tossed in the air by the strongest guys. They threw me up, up toward the ceiling. Time seemed to slow and the sparkling crystal chandelier rushed toward me as I rose higher until I was suspended in midair, the chandelier so close I could reach out and touch it. And I did. A soft tinkling of crystals like the sound of rain. Like a beckoning whisper.
I heard cheers below, and seconds later I was falling back toward the earth. Caught in their strong arms and set down on my feet. They whooped and high-fived me and someone handed me a full glass of champagne, which I was too excited and filled with adrenaline to drink. I couldn’t remember a time I felt so alive—so loved and welcomed and a part of something—ever before in my life.
—
Afterward, I foundDaisy in the backyard. We sat with our feet in the heated pool as members partied. I twisted my new signet ring, admiring the engraved Greystone Society insignia, before glancing at the identical one on Daisy’s finger. I’d never noticed hers before.
Daisy raised her glass. “Congratulations. You’re in.”
Beyond her, movement in the shadows caught my eye. Two dark figures huddled close together on a love seat on the patio. I could barely make out Lila’s red hair, but I was sure the other was Professor DuPont. At first, the sight set off an alarm bell in my mind:He has a wife.
Daisy saw them too and said, teasingly, “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it; Matthew is handsome as hell.”
So I considered it again—thought of his smooth voice and full lips, the attraction I’d felt when his eyes met mine. I remembered how Cecily had spent a summer in London and said men in theirthirties were better in bed, and that’s when I realized the feeling in my stomach, what I thought was alarm bells, was closer to jealousy, and if given the chance, I’d like to sleep with him too.
—
That week inclass I noticed how Professor DuPont looked at me and smiled during his lecture, and the following week, when he handed back our exams, my heart nearly stopped. I had gotten an A, and along with the test was an envelope—with five thousand dollars in cash.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Naomi
November 2022, six months before her death
The week of Thanksgiving break,the temperature across campus dropped another ten degrees, and the cold in our room has crept in through the cracks in the stone. These buildings were built in the 1920s, and the rattling metal wall heaters do little against the frigid air.
Tonight Amy and I are alone. Zee is at Trey’s, and we’ve ordered take-out pho and boba and are watchingGet Outin our pajamas. I can’t stop thinking about how she’s been acting, though, unnerved by her recent jumpiness, her withdrawal from all social activities, her refusal to talk to me.
Before the opening credits are over, I turn to her. “Hey, is everything okay?”
I think I see a flicker of fear cross her eyes before she turns her face away. “Yeah, why?”
I shrug. After I’d pressed her about reporting the break-in again earlier this week, she’d been acting especially strange, totally avoiding me. Did she think I didn’t notice the deep bags under her eyes? The way she wasn’t eating? I’ve been oscillating between worry and frustration, and right now the frustration is getting the better of me.
“Ever since the break-in…you’ve been gone a lot. I get it, and I know you don’t want to report it—” She flinches, and I soften my tone. “I just want you to know I’m here…if you want to talk. If what you’re writing has you this scared, I’m worried about you dealing with it all on your own.”
Amy doesn’t respond. Her hair falls over her pale cheeks and when I look down at her hands, they are twisting in her lap. “I’m fine,” she says.
With an exhale, I turn back to the movie. If she won’t open up, there’s nothing I can do. I think the moment’s passed, when, in the middle of the movie, as the unnerving sound of a spoon scrapes the edge of a teacup, Amy says something barely audible. “What do you think of Professor DuPont?”
I glance at her. “What?”
“Professor DuPont,” she repeats, and I turn to face her. The light from the projector glows in her irises.
