~♥~
It was after lunch before I got to actually meet the new science teacher. After the dean’s hour-long blah-blah-academic-excellence-should-be-your-main-focus-but-you’re-expected-to-be-a-good-Rosewood-citizen-blah-blah-blah speech, we filed out into the hall and parted ways.
Chelly and Emmie left for History class and Kaylee, Celia and I headed out to English Lit, which, based on the syllabus, was going to be a joke after everything I’d studied in London and had absorbed from Mom over the years. But with Kaylee and Celia in the class and a young, cool teacher, Ms. Ito, it was going to be fun and a no-brainer. My favorite kind of class!
Second was French, which was going to be another easy A, though I didn’t know anyone there yet. And then Science, with the now infamous Mr. Stratton.
Kaylee and I sat together as lab partners, which I appreciated; I was starting to think, of all the girls I’d met so far, Kaylee and I might have the most in common, at least personality-wise. When it came to our backgrounds and families, she was the daughter of Hollywood producers, so she was really familiar with the celebrity life, where I was pretty much the opposite. But she was low-key and very focused on getting great marks so she could get into a pre-med program (she wanted no part of the famous life).
Not that the other girls didn’t care about grades, but Kaylee was kind of a bookworm like me and we’d laughed when we compared notes and realized we’d both read all the required reading for the English Lit class well before the start of school.
And now we had another thing in common: our sudden interest in science.
“I don’t know how I’m going to get any work done,” Kaylee admitted as we watched Mr. Stratton come into the room, a soft-sided briefcase in one hand and a to-go cup in the other. He was wearing Dockers and a starched white button-down shirt kitted up with a tie under his blazer. His eyes were focused on his desk, like we didn’t exist, although he must have heard all the excited whispering; it was almost deafening.
“Do you think he knows how attractive he is?” I asked Kaylee, my breath hitching as he took the blazer off and hung it over the back of his chair.
She smirked at me. “Only if he owns a mirror. Look at those shoulders.”
I stifled a laugh and looked at him again. Now he had his briefcase on the desk and was taking out some papers, still ignoring the twenty girls in front of him who watched him like he was the main attraction at a zoo exhibit.
He took a sip of whatever he was drinking and put it down slowly, carefully on the corner of his desk.
The suspense was killing me.
Finally, he picked up a piece of paper, took a deep breath and looked up, his eyes sweeping across us, taking us in. His Adam’s apple moved up and then down in his neck.
Kaylee whispered, “What do you want to bet this is his first teaching gig ever?”
Based on how young and nervous he looked, I wasn’t about to take that bet.
“Good morning, ladies,” he said after clearing his throat. “In case you weren’t at dinner last night, I’m Mr. Stratton and I’m a new teacher here at Rosewood. I’m excited to be here and I’m sure we’ll all learn a little something from each other over this term. Welcome.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kaylee giggle at the ‘Welcome’; we’d never be able to hear that word again without cracking up.
Luckily Mr. Stratton didn’t notice and kept on with his little speech.
“…and to answer the question that I’m sure is at the forefront of all your minds, yes, this is my first teaching position and although they tell us in teachers’ college never to admit that kind of vulnerability to students, I’m hoping here at Rosewood, you are mature and will use that information to go easy on me.”
He pushed his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose and flashed us all one of those devastating smiles.
The class gave out a collected sigh.
Poor Mr. Stratton didn’t stand a chance.
Community Service
My academic day finished out with P.E., which I’d looked forward to, since I’d thought it would mean a ride, but I was disappointed to find out that we didn’t get an equestrian unit for a couple of weeks. Until then, we had our choice of football…er…soccer or archery.
Like every other girl I knew, I’d gone through a Katniss Everdeen stage so I’d already done some archery, and I felt like I needed something a bit more active to burn off some steam. I spent most of the period doing soccer drills with my classmates until I basically fell into a sweaty, exhausted heap; mission accomplished.
What I neglected to remember, though, was that at boarding school, your day isn’t over after your last class; I still had dinner and the evening assembly to get through.
Dinner was fine (and after all that running around, I was starving) but then after that was the assembly about being a good Rosewood citizen. The dean was back at it again, telling us that part of Rosewood’s mandate was to ensure we all became contributing members of our society.
“That’s crap,” Celia said under her breath as she leaned in close to me. “It’s how they get free labor around here.”
I gave her a look, hoping she’d explain, but she just waved toward the stage, like it would be obvious soon enough.
And it was, when the dean went on to explain that we would each find our assignments e-mailed to us at our special Rosewood e-mail addresses that had been issued to us and were on our schedules. Not having noticed it before, I pulled the folded up and dog-eared schedule out of my pocket and sure enough, at the top was my special Rosewood e-mail address.
She assured us that each of our assignments was hand-picked to fit in with our schedules and interests (Emmie, sitting on my other side, snorted here) and was non-negotiable except in very extreme circumstances.
“Death or…death,” Celia said.
“If they really wanted us to contribute to society, they’d give us real volunteer opportunities,” Emmie whispered. “They’d send us out in the community to do worthwhile things.”
“So why don’t they?” I asked.
Emmie shrugged. “Like Celia said, it’s free labor. And also, they can’t have us all scattered around outside the compound; too much of a security issue.”
“Security?” I mean, I knew I might be a security issue, but what about the other kids?
Emmie leaned in closer. “Look around; there’s a lot of money represented by all these kids. If some billionaire’s kid gets kidnapped for a ransom, this school is screwed.”
I wondered if Emmie was a ‘billionaire’s kid’ as she continued. “Our parents pay for us to be safe here—that’s a huge draw, right? I’m sure you saw the security booth at the front gate—and they can’t exactly let us off campus to go be candy stripers or work on a big Habitat project with Joe Public.”
She shook her head. “It makes sense, but it’s still a waste of our talent and abilities. I could do a lot from here, organizing projects and fundraising online, but instead, they’re going to make me work in the kitchen or something and call it ‘community work’ that’s going to make me a better citizen. Right.”
“As long as I don’t get stuck shoveling crap in the stables again,” Chelly said. “It’s like they knew I hate horses and gave me the worst job in the world.”
“I’d love to work in the stables,” I said, suddenly eager to get back to our room so I could check my e-mail, figuring the new girl surely had to draw the short straw and get stuck mucking stalls.
Celia snorted. “If you want to work in the stables, you’ll end up cleaning the giant oatmeal-encrusted pots at, like, five in the morning. That’s just how it works here. And they never let anyone change—because then everyone would, right?”
Awesome. I couldn’t wait.
~♥~
Emmie and I returned to our room after assembly to log into the Rosewood webmail and get our assignments. She sat on her bed, her laptop across her thighs while I sat at my desk, working on my tablet.
“How did tha
t happen?” she exclaimed, incredulous, but as I glanced over at her, I couldn’t tell if it was good incredulous or bad incredulous.
“What is it?” I asked, still trying to get logged in.
She looked up at me. “They put me in student services. School liaison.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. I still couldn’t tell if she was happy or not, but it sounded better than cleaning pots in the kitchen. At least she probably wouldn’t have to get her hands dirty, although I had a feeling Emmie wouldn’t mind physically digging into a project, as long as she was really helping people.
“It means I’ll be working with my counterpart at Westwood to coordinate events: dances, outings, talent shows.”
The slow smile that spread across her face told me this was a good thing. A very good thing.
She looked back down at her computer. “I told them no special treatment, but you know what? Screw it. I’m okay with this, if it’s thanks to nepotism.”
I wondered if juniors at public schools even know what nepotism means, but for girls at Rosewood, it was a way of life; kids get special treatment just because of who they’re related to. Although to be special and stand out at Rosewood, you had to be the upper crust of the upper crust—like have a building donated by your parents.
“What did you get?” she asked, putting her laptop on her bedspread and scooting to the end of her bed to look over my shoulder.
I finally got into my e-mail and sifted through the several automated e-mails from the registrar’s office about drop and pick, school policies, etc, etc, to find the one with the subject line, ‘CSA: community service assignment’.
Holding my breath, I opened it and scanned for the word ‘stables’ or maybe ‘equestrian center’ but no. I read it from the beginning:
Dear Ms. Prescott, we are pleased to have you be a part of our award-winning community service program where you will give back to your community through volunteership that will help build skills that will last you a lifetime.
Your assignment is located at: The Rosewood Academy’s state-of-the-art laundry facilities.
Please report to your community service mentor: Mr. Ammaturo
At: The Housekeeping office, Main building, Sub-basement B. Tomorrow at 7:00 p.m.
After which, your scheduled hours of service will be: Monday through Friday, 6:00 -7:30 a.m.
The crack of dawn? And laundry? Really?
“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” Emmie said from behind me. “I don’t know what you did to make the dean hate you, but that’s pretty bad.”
And it only got worse.
The Stables
Twenty minutes later, as I was going over the science syllabus, Emmie came out of the bathroom looking especially cute in her jeans and a sweater. She’d spiked her hair up a little and put on makeup, making her eyes pop. Although I hadn’t met Dave, I had a feeling she was going to knock his socks off.
“You look awesome,” I said as she opened her mouth, undoubtedly to ask what I thought.
Her mouth clamped shut and then she smiled and came over to give me a quick hug around my shoulders. “Thank you, Brooklyn. I’m soooo nervous to see him. I hope he still likes me.”
“Have you lost your mind?” slipped from my lips, making her frown until I hastily added, “You are cute and nice and truly, the most down-to-earth person I’ve ever met. You feed the hungry, clothe the poor and cut your own hair—what’s not to like?”
She smiled sweetly and I stood up out of my chair so I could give her a proper hug. I’d never made friends easily, nor had I ever been a touchy-feely type, but something about Emmie made me feel like I’d met my best friend soul mate.
“You only have one fault,” I said into her ear as I squeezed her tight and then pushed away to look into her eyes. “Your ridiculous modesty. And even that’s endearing.” I rolled my eyes dramatically.
“You are the best,” she said, glancing at my clock. “Shoot, is that the time? I need to run out to the stables; Dave’s going to be waiting for me.”
The stables! I’d completely forgotten to sign up for the equestrian team. I’d meant to go to the office after P.E. but after my shower, all I could focus on was dinner.
“I’ll walk down with you,” I said, hoping maybe they had a sign-up list that I could access after-hours.
We left the room and walked side by side down the hallway to the stairs. “Where are you off to?” Emmie asked.
“To the stables, also.”
She screwed up her face. “Um. Three’s a crowd, you know. Ha, ha.” she said, her laugh not as breezy as I think she intended.
“What?” And then I remembered in that moment that we really didn’t know each other that well and she might think...
“Oh, no!” I said, looking into her eyes, embarrassed that she’d think I’d make myself into a third wheel, and needing to set her straight. “I wasn’t planning to come with you to see Dave. I need to go to the office at the stables so I can sign up for the equestrian team.”
She stopped on the landing, halfway down the stairs, and looked at me for another second. Suddenly, her face broke into a smile and she rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the same time. “I’m so stupid. See? See how nervous I am?”
I waved her off and started down the stairs. “It’s understandable. You haven’t seen him in months. But I saw his texts; he’s still into you. If anything, probably more than he was. You know what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
Emmie nodded.
We got to the bottom of the stairs and I slid my arm around her. “After tonight, you’ll be back to normal. You have nothing to worry about.”
She started toward the door and noticed I wasn’t following. “Aren’t you coming?”
“No, you go. I need to make a stop first.” Just so she knew I wasn’t going to interrupt or make things any weirder for her and Dave.
“Okay, wish me luck,” she said.
“You don’t need luck, just go. It’ll be fine,” I said.
She ducked out the door and I turned the other way to head into the kitchen. Mealtimes were pretty structured, but there was something of a snack buffet that the girls told me was always stocked, 24-7. I grabbed two apples and a pear, putting them into the front pocket of my hoodie, and arranged a handful of carrot sticks onto a paper towel, rolling it up into a bundle and stuffing it into my pocket.
After a good five minutes of checking out the various types of coffee, sodas and snacks available, I was sure Emmie had enough time to get around to the back of the stable building where her boyfriend awaited her (which, I had to admit, was very romantic). I headed outside and made a beeline for the door, keeping my eyes straight ahead of me, so I wouldn’t see any serendipitous PDAs if they weren’t as hidden as they meant to be.
~♥~
The door was unlocked again, so I figured someone was inside. I called out a “Hello?” but got no response, so I entered and turned down the hall toward the office.
One of the horses nickered, and I wondered if it was Sir Lancelot, looking to lure me into a bite. I chuckled, thinking of Brady’s name for him: Sir Bitesalot.
“Sign up first, then I’ll say hello,” I muttered aloud to myself. As expected, the office door was locked up tight, but there was a sign-up form outside, complete with a pen on a string tacked next to it on the bulletin board.
“That’s convenient,” I said. But as I reached for the pen, I heard something: a voice.
And not a horse’s nicker or grunt, either. It was a boy’s voice followed by a girl’s voice. He said something, she responded. Then she laughed. I turned my head toward the voices and realized they were outside.
Emmie and Dave.
They must have been right outside the back wall of the stables, just outside the office. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they were obviously reconnecting after their months apart.
I was glad it was going well; Emmie was a really great person and even though I
’d just met her, she obviously deserved to have a good guy. A small part of me, the deep, dark part that I would never admit existed, was the tiniest, littlest bit jealous. Sure, not many girls got to go to super-exclusive boarding schools with stables and all the amenities of the rich and famous, but Emmie already had everything. Maybe it seemed like life was too easy for her.
And now that her and Dave were officially an item again, was that going to mean she wouldn’t want to be friends with me?
I mean, I realized we’d just met, but I’d quickly gotten the impression that we were going to be super-close friends—we’d really seemed to connect.
Boys always make things more complicated.
Especially for the single friend.
Not that I wanted Dave to break up with her or anything—not at all. Just maybe, I admitted to myself, I wanted what they had for me, too. Was it too much to ask that a guy notice me and want to hook up with me behind the stables? Two years in London, surrounded by cute guys with British accents and I couldn’t even get a guy to look my way at a school dance, let alone want to date me.
And really, what made me think it would be any different here? At least at my school in London, I’d had the benefit of being somewhat exotic: the American girl. But here, I was nothing but the new girl. At an all-girls’ school.
There was a good chance I’d get to see Will at the dance, but would he be interested? Had he just flirted with me because I was the new girl and had that damsel in distress vibe going on? When I thought of all the other girls at Rosewood, I couldn’t imagine he’d ever be interested in me. Assuming he was even single.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, making me feel even more pathetic.
“Oh that’s rich, Brooklyn,” I said. “Now you’re hosting a pity-party for one in the stables, where even the horses don’t care. Ugh. Nice way to make a fresh start.”
As I stood there, berating myself, Emmie and Dave’s voices got quieter and lower and they seemed to be talking more slowly. Then they stopped altogether. Before I even realized what I was doing, I was straining my ears to hear more. I was suddenly rewarded with the softest of moans.
Oh my God; they’re making out! Not that it should have surprised me, but what was most surprising (and horrifying), was that I was standing there, eavesdropping.