“Dorms,” I answer, dropping my gaze. Thanks to Mother knowing Augustus Lancaster, I was able to get a single dorm at the last minute, which I’m sure is unheard of. Meaning I don’t have to share my room with anyone else. I’ve heard those are rare.
Again, I’m getting special favors, thanks to my mother’s connection to the Lancasters. Which is kind of messed up, but whatever. I have to take advantage of it where I can.
“Where did you go to school before?” asks Jane, sipping from her water bottle. Her eyes gleam as she studies me, and I’m sure she’s trying to figure me out.
I don’t trust her. Something about her sets me on edge. But, of course, I don’t trust anyone. Not anymore.
Once you’ve been burned so many times, it’s hard to let down your guard.
“Billington in Manhattan,” I answer with a faint smile.
They both look impressed.
It’s one of the best private schools in Manhattan. Jonas was on the school board when Yates attended there. That is how Yates was able to get away with so much—they looked the other way, thanks to Jonas’ generous donations and position on the board.
I did the world a favor when I took care of Yates. Not that I get any thanks for it.
Not that anyone knows exactly what I did.
We make small talk for the rest of lunch, the spot between my shoulder blades growing warmer and warmer as the hour winds down. As if someone was watching me. I don’t dare look back.
Too afraid if I do, I’ll be staring into Whit Lancaster’s cold, assessing eyes.
Three
Summer
After lunch I have a break, though it’s actually a study hall period. I go to the library and find a spot in the back of the cavernous building, settling in at a small, unoccupied table. I pull out my math assignment, working through it hurriedly, distracted by the beautiful architecture. It’s old, with soaring ceilings and gothic windows made of gorgeous stained-glass. Something you’d see out of a movie about witches and warlocks.
I receive a text notification and I check it to see it’s from Mother.
Are you settling in?
I don’t bother answering yet. Not that she cares. She’s already on her way back home, to the apartment she inherited upon Jonas’ death. No more fifth floor walkups for her. She’ll be taken care of for the rest of her life. If I’m lucky, she’ll leave a little bit for me when she dies.
Knowing how much she enjoys spending money, I probably won’t be so lucky.
There are other people in the library, and they talk in hushed tones, their heads bent close together, gossiping and smiling and laughing. Seeing them makes me long for my friends at my old school. I miss them. But when the scandal broke out about Yates and me, just before the fire happened, I couldn’t show my face there ever again. Everyone knew what he was doing to me.
And not a single damn person did one thing to stop it.
Shoving my anger back down, I focus once again on my math homework, oblivious to the sound of footsteps until a soft, female voice says hello.
I nearly jump out of my skin, my head jerking up to find a girl standing by my table.
She smiles shyly, her long, dark blonde hair flowing far past her shoulders. Almost to her waist. Her face is pale, her eyes a haunted blue, and she smiles with rosebud lips, vividly red compared to the snow white of her skin. “You’re new.”
I can’t help but smile in return. “I am.”
“May I sit with you?”
I wave my hand at the three open chairs at my table. “Be my guest.”
She settles into the chair closest to mine, dropping her backpack on the table with a loud thump. I watch as she digs through the contents, pulling out a history textbook and letting it land on the table with an echoing slap. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a faint, “Shush!” that I’m sure came from the front desk.
“She hates noise,” the girl tells me with a faint smile.
“Who?”
“The librarian. Miss Taylor. She’s as old as this building.” The girl laughs and I can’t help but join in. It’s an infectious sound and I immediately feel at ease with her. Far more at ease than with the other two at lunch. “Notice how there are a bunch of spinster teachers who work here? I think this is where virgin educators go to die.”
She laughs even harder. She reminds me of an angel, but she definitely has a devious mind.
I warm up to this girl even more.
“You like it here?” she asks me.
“It’s nice,” I say with a shrug, glancing at my math paper yet again. I have one more problem to solve, and then I’m done.
She leans in close, her voice a harsh whisper. “It’s easy.”
I raise a brow. “You think?”
“I know.” She glances back, as if making sure no one’s around, before she returns her attention to me. “I’m a junior. You’re a senior?”
I nod, wondering how she knows. “I am.”
“Went to Billington?” She whistles low when my eyebrows shoot up. “That place is fancy.”
“And this place isn’t?” My voice is dry, my heart racing.
How does she know where I went to school?
She shrugs. “It’s nothing.”
Her words are so dismissive. Obviously, Lancaster Prep doesn’t impress her.
“Have you always gone here?” I ask her. That’s the only explanation as to why she doesn’t see the beauty of this place. The old buildings, the gothic chapel with the spire that rises high into the sky. The lush green grounds, the forest behind the campus, and the ocean just beyond, crashing against the shore.
It’s like a dream.
“My whole entire life.” She rolls her eyes. Blows out an exaggerated breath. “That’s what it feels like, at least.”
“How do you know so much about me?” I ask, curious. But not put off. She has a way about her that’s nonthreatening.
“I have my ways. And access,” she says mysteriously. “I know your name is Summer Savage. Cool name by the way. Very—primal. You’re from Manhattan. You were enrolled at the last minute, even though Lancaster was far past the enrollment drop dead due date.”
It’s the way she says drop dead. As if she relishes the words.
“A single dormitory was assigned to you. Rather impossible, considering the enrollment situation, so you must know someone higher up. Dear old Augustus, maybe? Plus, I hear you made an appearance in honors English this morning, which I’m sure infuriated many. All those girls work so hard to be in Figueroa’s class, desperate to get close to him. He’s messed around with a few, though you never heard that from me. So yes, you definitely know someone.” She smiles, her light blue eyes sparkling. “Friends in high places take you far.”
Recognition dawns and I sit up straight, hating the dread slithering down my spine. This girl should hate me. She probably already does.
“My name is Sylvie, by the way. Sylvie Lancaster.” The moment she takes a good look at my face, she throws her head back and laughs. So loudly, I hear Miss Taylor shush her again. “We’ve never met before, yet I feel like I know everything about you.”