I drop my head into my hands. “You’ve seen that damn video too?”
“Hard to avoid it.”
“I guess this’ll be my fresh start.” I try again for a cheerful tone but my throat tightens and I can barely get the words out. How the hell is this going to be my escape from Waterford and the party when everyone—includingPopulation Geneticsgirl—knows what a fool I made of myself? Suddenly, my jet lag is overwhelming.
I climb up the ladder and flop onto my bunk. I have no sheets, no pillow, and no hope of outrunning my past. I drop my head onto the bare mattress, too tired to care if it’s dirty.
Chapter
6
Minutes later—or at least it feels like only minutes—Sageshakes me.
“It’s time to go downstairs. Mandatory orientation.”
My brain is thick from sleep, but I force myself out of bed. I follow her to the Long Gallery, which is an insanely ornate gathering space with crystal chandeliers as wide as a king-size bed and gargoyles staring down at us. I’m surrounded by students from school—there are forty of us here in the high school program—and a few of them are already side-eyeing me. It’s probably only a matter of time until they start playing the video here too.
I pretend to study one of the gargoyles rather than make eye contact with anyone. Luckily, the conversations die down once an older man wearing an impeccable tweed suit walks into the room. He climbs a small stage erected in front of the mammoth stone fireplace and claps his hands once.
“Good evening, students. Welcome to Emberton Manor. On behalf of all the faculty and staff members here, let me be the first to say how happy we are to have you.”
The man’s posh British accent makes it clear he’s agentleman. I rub a hand over my oily hair. Maybe I should have taken a shower instead of crumpling onto my bed.
“My name is Mr. Odell. I am the headmaster of Emberton Manor.”
I miss the next few sentences because I’m fangirling that there’s an actualheadmasterat the school.
“For the last ten years, Hillsboro University in Virginia has endeavored to make Emberton Manor into one of the finest establishments for study abroad in England. We have restored this historical landmark back to its original grandeur and have brought in world-renowned faculty members. We are so pleased to have fifty of our students from the university here with us for the semester.” There’s a smattering of applause. “We have also recently expanded our admissions to Waterford Valley High School in order to provide this unique opportunity to themostgifted students in that senior class. You should all feel very proud of being accepted into this program.”
The faculty who line either side of the stage politely clap for us. Mr. Odell eyes the crowd expectantly and I cringe.More like paid-out-the-nose-to-get-me-here student.
“In addition to your academics,” Mr. Odell continues, “you will have the opportunity to attend talks on current issues in the UK, participate in extracurriculars, and experience the delightful traditions England has to offer. We hope that you will take advantage of all this. My suggestion for this weekend is to explore the manor and grounds before classes begin Monday. As you can see, it is a grand estate and there is much to discover. The closesttown to the manor is Northampton. During the semester, we will have a van that drives to town during the evenings and weekends. However, let me suggest that you spend most of your time here at the manor focusing on your studies.”
Someone nods in my peripheral vision and I turn to find Sage. My shoulders sag.
“I hope everyone has a wonderful semester,” Mr. Odell continues. “Next we will have a few words from each of our faculty members. Then I invite everyone to stay for hors d’oeuvres and a chance to chat.”
The students get increasingly restless as each teacher introduces themselves. By the time the speeches are done and the platters of appetizers come out, it’s like a stampede of mad cows racing for the buffet line. I elbow through to fill my plate, then get out of the way. Everyone’s voices echo around the room, creating a cacophony of sound and giving me a headache.
Two girls step in front of me. Again, I don’t know their names, though I think I recognize them. The girl with the straight black hair tilts her head and studies me. I grip my plate harder.
“Um, hi?” I say.
She grimaces. “Dammit.”
The other girl does a little dance. “Ha-ha, I told you that was her! You owe me twenty pounds.”
“You said twenty dollars! Twenty pounds is way more!”
The girl smirks. “You shouldn’t take bets you’re going to lose.”
My stomach drops and I almost let my cherry tomatoes roll onto the tiled floor. They’re making bets about me? The noise of the room surges in my ears. I have to get out of here. I take a stepback, but the first girl puts her hand out to stop me.
“Wait a minute. Can we get a selfie with you? You’ll be my first photo with a celebrity!”
My eyes pop wide and I take another step back. I bump into someone and this time my tomatoes do tumble onto the ground.
“Oh god, I’m sorry!” I kneel to pick them up before someone slips and I’m the star of my second viral video in a month.
