“It is beautiful here, is it not?” He flourishes a hand toward the dining hall. “Will you join me for breakfast?”
“Oh.” This is unexpected. “You don’t want to sit with Sumner and his friends?”
He shrugs. “I’d like to sit with you.”
The words are so direct, so earnest, that a hot flush climbs up my neck. I don’t have what I’d call a magnetic personality. Madelene demands attention because she makes performing seem effortless, therefore creating a mesmerizing draw. Jared gathered praise because he was good at captivating audiences during speech and debate competitions. I’m not like them. I am not charismatic or interesting, and I don’t have any spellbinding qualities. At least, not one that attracts someone like William.
“My achiever, my thinker, and my performer,” my dad used to call us.
I was never certain what he meant by it. Thinking didn’t feel special. It felt mundane, something everyone does. And when youknow what others think of you, it feels like a curse. The curse of living up to the expectations they put on you.
So I say, “Okay, sure,” and pretend like I am not melting under his fervent gaze.
“Delaney.” He comes to a sudden halt. Two students veer into the grass to avoid crashing into him, scuttling around us. “Have you ever experienced the utter delight,” William asks seriously, eyes wide, “of whipped cream from a can?”
Several minutes later, as we sit down for breakfast, William scoops Fruity Pebbles topped with an excessive amount of strawberry jelly and whipped cream into his mouth, eyes gleaming with sheer joy as he chews. He’s even brought the entire can with him.
Analiese and I occupy our usual window seat in the dining hall, now joined by Lionel and William. It’s not lost on me that we are an odd group. A cacophony of voices bounces around us. A few people glance over at the new student, but otherwise nobody seems to pay us any mind. Relief fills me, because this can only mean he’s mostly fitting in.
“I needscandal,” Analiese is saying. “I need intrigue.”
We’ve once again circled to her newspaper problem. I’m tempted to tell Analiese the real story is Ivernia’s impending closing, but I refuse to speak it into existence.
“Teacher profile?” I suggest instead.
“Too uninspired.” She sighs. “God, it’s so uneventful here.”
I try not to choke on a swig of water.
“—but it’s not until level two when you meet the zombies,” Lionel’s explaining through a mouthful of toast. William listens with raptured amusement. “And they arehardto kill.”
Analiese is staring at his cereal, which looks like a science experiment gone wrong. “I’ve never tried it like that.”
William dips his spoon back into his bowl. “It’sverygood.”
“They don’t allow certain cereals in the UK,” Lionel says. “Because some food dyes are illegal over there.”
“And that,” I say a little too loudly, “is why Enzo loves it.” If I’m overeager to explain his unordinary behavior, I don’t think anyone notices.
“God bless America,” Analiese jokes. “So. You’re from London?”
“Dunbry Park,” he corrects.
“A really,reallysmall town,” I encourage. “Tiny. Microscopic.”
“I love it here,” William says as he dabs at his mouth with a silk handkerchief he produces from his pocket. Analiese notices. “But my father doesn’t quite understand why I prefer my studies. He’d rather have me marry and take over our estates.”
“Marry?” Analiese blurts. “That’s wild. We’re so young.”
“Because—” I grasp for a way to make this make sense. “His father got married young. Enzo comes from, uh, a traditional family.”
“What are your aspirations?” William asks her. “I’d think an attractive woman such as yourself would take interest in a strong matrimonial proposition.”
Analiese scoffs. “First of all, I’m seventeen—”
“Ah, so your dowry is less than desirable?”
“Mywhat? If you’re talking about my trust fund, it has nothing to do with what I intend to accomplish in my personal achievements.”
