I don’t hesitate.
“It’s because of a system.”
She studies my face.
Searching for weakness.
Finding none.
Finally.
She nods once.
“We call them tomorrow.”
They answer on the second ring.
The admissions director sounds almost giddy.
“We were devastated when Stella declined,” she says. “State finalists as a freshman? We’d love to have her. Our programis competitive. And we have multiple scholarship students. She wouldn’t be alone.”
Wouldn’t be alone.
That part sticks.
By January, I pack my life into two suitcases.
Connecticut, inland.
No ocean.
No beach.
No chandeliers in the gym.
Just snow and brick buildings and a coach who shakes my hand like I earned something.
I don’t cry when we drive away.
I don’t look back.
Because that’s the last night I let Royal Oaks decide who I am.
And I swear I’ll never let a boy likeTristan Vale touch me in the dark ever again.
