“Sure.”
She guided me to a small office, where she printed several forms for me to sign before giving me a temporary ID card and a paperback-sized rule book. “Carry your ID at all times. You’ll need it to access the dorms and the grounds.”
I slipped the documents into my purse while Mrs. Coates stood and reached for an oversized key ring that hung from a peg. I followed her lead and lugged my suitcase as I struggled to keep up. Apparently she wasn’t the ‘here, let me help you with that’ sort either. Maybe it’s a Maine thing? Fine by me. I’d made it this far on my own. She marched like a drill sergeant, her sensible heels clicking on the polished stone floor.
Once outside, she escorted me down a path paved with flagstones to a three-story brick building across a broad field from the office. Most of the windows were glowing with light.
She pushed through the dormitory door, led me up a flight of stairs to the second-floor landing, and pointed down the hall. “You’re in room 2G, with three other young ladies. Four per room. This dorm is for the academy girls. Mind you, you’ve got much the same rules as Prep. But more leeway in coming and going. There’s a section in the handbook that specifically covers those sorts of rules.”
I swallowed nervously at the thought of meeting three strangers. I was told once that I come off as distant and standoffish, and that had been at a party. Now after ten hours of travel, I wasn’t exactly feeling very sociable.
She escorted me past open doors, where music and the sound of televisions drifted from the rooms. I forced myself to smile at the curious faces that looked up, and did my best to ignore the anxiety tightening my throat.
We arrived at a closed door, and Mrs. Coates rapped on it three times with the edge of the key ring. A voice called out from inside.
“Come in.”
Mrs. Coates pushed the door open. A young woman with a caramel complexion and a short, no-nonsense haircut looked up from where she was sitting at a small round table, two thick textbooks in front of her, both open. Her forehead creased at the sight of the administrator, but then relaxed when she spotted me behind her. Mrs. Coates gestured to me.
“Serena, this is your last roommate, Lacey Wilkes. Lacey, this is Serena Gonzalez, one of the most promising students at Ridley. Also here on scholarship.” Oh, great. Was she going to announce my scholarship status every time she introduced me?
Serena pushed back from the table and stood with her hand out. I shifted the suitcase from my right to my left and shook awkwardly. I never got shaking hands. It seemed to belong to making deals or meeting Japanese businessmen or something. Not that I knew what else to do. So fine, a handshake it was.
“Hey,” I said.
“Nice to meet you,” Serena replied with a shy smile.
“Where are the others?” Mrs. Coates asked Serena.
“They’ve been out all afternoon. I didn’t ask where,” Serena replied, a hint of disapproval in her voice.
“Well, classes don’t start for another couple of days. I suppose it’s understandable if they make the most of the free time they have left,” Coates said, and moved to the door. “I’m sure Serena will show you the ropes, Lacey. You’re in good hands,” she assured me, and then left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Serena rolled her eyes. “Long day?”
I nodded. “You could say that. I started in Pennsylvania before daybreak.”
Serena’s eyes widened. “Oh, wow. You must be beat.”
“A little,” I conceded, looking around the room. The beds were nothing to write home about, nor were the furnishings. But then my gaze stopped at a poster above one of the beds, where a young man with high cheekbones, striking blue eyes, and an unruly haystack of chestnut hair stood staring into space on a stadium stage. His shirt was open to the waist, exposing a physique that would have been the envy of a Greek god. The air suddenly felt heavy, the walls too close, and my heart skipped a beat at the way his luminescent turquoise eyes seemed to bore straight through me.
Serena didn’t seem to notice my sudden discomfiture and pointed to the bed next to the one with the poster. “That’s yours. I’m over by the window. The one next to you is Sarah.” She frowned slightly. “If you let her, she’ll keep you up all night gabbing…assuming she even comes home. I’ve only been here a week with her, but she’s a partier.”
I tore my eyes from the poster and nodded, having caught only every third word. “Oh, uh-huh.”
Serena indicated the other bed. “And that’s Kate. She’s a little intense, but she’s sweet and she means well. She’s buds with Sarah – they’re both from New Jersey.”
I pointed to the door at the far end of the room. “Is that a closet?”
“Yes. We each have a quarter of it. And you have half of that dresser,” she said, tilting her head at a chest of drawers near another door. “There’s the bathroom. The shower sucks, by the way. Takes forever to get hot in the morning and the pressure is terrible.”
A rustle from the closet drew my attention, and Serena’s face flushed as she moved to the door. “Oh, that’s Cyrus. He’s the token guy here,” she said, and opened it. A heavyset gray cat stared up at me from the depths of the closet and then walked stiff-legged into the room. I knelt,
