Plates appear a few minutes later, carried out by a group of girls moving easily between the tables. They set salads down in front of us one by one, quick and efficient.
Lou leans in slightly. “Freshmen,” she says. “They serve dinner.”
I glance back at the girls, noticing it now, the subtle difference. The way they hover a minute longer, the way they move around the tables instead of sitting at them.
“It’s one of their responsibilities,” Lou says. “A tradition. Everyone does it their first year.” She picks up her fork, unfazed. “It teaches them to start at the bottom.” Her eyes track them. “Some of them have grown up with servants.You should hear the complaining the first few days.” She rolls her eyes, but her smile is more fond than annoyed. “They learn, though. Everyone has to.”
I nod, because it makes sense to me.
You earn your way up. No shortcuts. No exceptions.
“That’s my younger sister, Evelynn,” Lou points to a girl with long brown hair and now that she says it, I can see the resemblance. “She’s a freshman, but she knew what to expect coming here.”
A sister. I stare a little longer, my heart aching just a little. “That’s nice,” I tell Lou finally, “that your sister decided to come to the same college as you.”
“They all do,” Lou shrugs, “all the little sisters. Most Mother’s have three.” She freezes then smiles, the transition so quick between the two expressions that I almost miss the first.
I blink. “Mothers?”
Lou smiles wider, “Families, that’s what I meant.” She lets out a light laugh.
I’m about to ask more, but the freshmen are back, carrying large plates, a rich and buttery scent drifting through the air. The meal is served family style. Platters of food are passed between hands without hesitation, like no one here has ever had to think twice about having enough. I barely notice what’s set in front of me, too busy trying to keep up with the conversation around me, nodding when it feels right, smiling when I remember to.
Lou doesn’t have that problem. She moves through it easily, making it obvious she was born into rooms like this. Other sisters come over to talk to her, asking questions, seeking her opinion, each one angling for her attention. Lou handles it without effort, and every time someone joins us she makes a point to introduce me as, “My new friend, Becky.” I like the way that sounds. Especially when they look at me differently afterward, as if I’m important.
Someone worth noticing.
Halfway through the meal, she leans toward me, lowering her voice so only I can hear. Her lips tug up, a small, delighted smile breaking through.
“Guess what?” she says. “Carrson emailed me right before dinner.”
My fork pauses halfway to my mouth.
Lou has a computer too. I make a note to check it out later.
“What about?” I ask.
“He wants me to take you shopping tomorrow,” she says. “Get you a whole new wardrobe.”
I blink at her, certain I misheard.
“What?” A small, incredulous laugh slips out. “I can’t afford that.”
Lou waves it off immediately, reaching for her drink. “You’re not paying.” She grins wider. “He is.”
My mouth opens, but words don’t follow. Warmth spreads across my cheeks as I sit there, hoping Lou doesn’t notice.
“That’s not necessary,” I finally manage.
Lou smiles, as if she knows better.
“Maybe not,” she says lightly. “But he asked.” She spears a forkful of food, then pauses before taking a bite. “Well, demanded, actually. You know how he is.”
I turn toward her, suddenly very invested in this conversation. “I don’t really…know him,” I admit. “He can be difficult to read.”
She nods, understanding flickering across her face. “Go easy on him,” she says gently. “He’s not always great at it.”
“At what?” I ask.
