She Was the Quiet One. Michele Campbell

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СКАЧАТЬ took a deep breath, and the three of them got out of the car. Inside, the Alumni Gym wasn’t just a gym, but an entire athletic complex, complete with an Olympic-size swimming pool and indoor tennis courts. Registration tables had been set up on the basketball court, a cavernous space surrounded by bleachers and flooded with light from tall windows. Bright blue banners crowded the walls, trumpeting Odell’s many championships against other prep schools. The room vibrated with voices and laughter, as kids and their parents greeted and hugged. Rose and Bel were coming in as sophomores, which meant that most kids in their grade knew each other already, but Bel tried not to care. Look at them—all stuffy and preppy, in head-to-toe Vineyard Vines. Who needed them? There must be other, cooler kids here somewhere. Kids like her friends back home, who smoked weed and surfed and let their hair grow wild. She and Rose had moved in such different crowds. Rose was a good girl. She got perfect grades, and did Model UN and stocked shelves at the food pantry. Her friends were dweebs like her—Bel meant that in a kind way. She loved her sister. Still, she wouldn’t be surprised if Rose fit right in at this stuck-up school.

      The twins picked up their registration packets, which included dorm assignments, class schedules, IDs, and a campus map. Bel and Rose had been assigned to the same dorm, Moreland Hall.

      Grandma studied their placement forms, nodding approvingly. “They usually separate siblings, but I requested that they keep you together, because of your loss. I’m so glad they listened.”

      They got back into the car and followed the map to Moreland Hall. As they drove up to the turnaround behind the dorm, a group of pretty girls, with long hair and long legs and wearing matching blue Odell T-shirts, waved signs that read: WELCOME HOME MORELAND GIRLS! Home. As if this place could ever be that for Bel. The dorm was vast and built of dark brick, with arches and turrets and mullioned windows. Like a haunted house. It gave Bel the creeps. But she’d promised to try, and she would.

      The twins got out of the car. One of the T-shirted girls stepped forward. She was blond and perfect-looking, but when she flipped her hair, Bel caught the unmistakable tang of cigarette smoke, which piqued her interest. Smoking was against the rules here, supposedly. But maybe not everyone followed the stupid rules.

      “Hey, I’m Darcy Madden,” the girl said. “We’re the senior welcome committee. So, welcome, I guess.”

      “Hi, Darcy! I’m Rose Enright, and this is my twin sister, Bel,” Rose said, stepping forward and smiling eagerly.

      Darcy rolled her eyes.

      “Right, the orphan twins,” Darcy said. “I heard all about you. It’s a scam, right? You don’t even look like twins to me. Bel’s got black hair and Rose has, hmm, what would you call that? Dirty blond?”

      “We’re definitely twins,” Rose said, coloring. “But we’re fraternal, not identical. I look like my dad’s family, Bel looks like our mom.”

      “Twins, maybe, but orphans? Since when do orphans wear Lacoste?” Darcy said, looking at Rose’s pink polo with its tiny alligator, a glint of amusement in her eyes.

      “I am so an orphan. The definition of that is your parents dying, and mine did,” Rose protested.

      Darcy caught Bel’s eye, and they both laughed at Rose’s earnestness. Bel then immediately felt guilty for laughing at her sister. But come on, Rose was uptight. A little teasing would do her good.

      “She’s just joking,” Bel said to Rose.

      “Yeah, sorry, kidding,” Darcy said. “Come on, orphans, we’ll help unload your stuff.”

      Darcy beckoned, and more welcome-committee girls ran over. The extra hands were useful given the mountain of suitcases and boxes stuffed into the trunk of Grandma’s car. The last couple of weeks had been one massive shopping spree, as Grandma got them properly outfitted—her word—for Odell. Rose loved the pastel polo shirts Grandma suggested, the wool sweaters and boat shoes and Bean boots, the formal dresses for dances and dinners. Bel thought they were frumpy and boring. She’d made a stink, and when that didn’t work, she’d begged and pleaded. In the end, Grandma relented and bought Bel some cute things—tops and leggings, jeans, a moto jacket, black suede boots, a couple of minidresses. Both girls also got new phones and laptops, bedding and desk lamps, shower caddies and under-bed storage bins. Grandma didn’t stint, and Bel liked the stuff so much that she got over her hesitation at blowing so much cash. If Grandma didn’t mind, why should she?

      Rose and Bel grabbed suitcases. The welcome-committee girls took boxes and they all headed into the dorm, as one girl held the door open for the others. Manners were a thing here, apparently. Bel was surprised not only at how much help was offered, but how respectfully the girls treated her grandmother. Then again, her elegantly dressed, beautifully coiffed grandma fit right in at Odell, better than Bel did. The girls refused to let Grandma carry a thing, and a girl was deputized to take her in the elevator and show her the twins’ rooms so she wouldn’t have to hike up the steep, slippery marble steps.

      Bel had hoped that she and Rose would be rooming together. But they were on different floors, Rose on two, Bel on three. Darcy ordered another girl to help Rose, while she hauled Bel’s box up the extra flight of stairs to show Bel to her room.

      “Thanks for the help,” Bel said.

      “No worries, we always do it,” Darcy said, huffing. “You’re in a double. All sophomores are. It can be grim or it can be fun, depending on who your roommate is.”

      “Who’s my roommate?” Bel asked.

      “Some dork, probably. C’mon, let’s go see.”

      They walked down a long hallway, lined with closed doors on either side. It was dingier than Bel had expected given the beautifully manicured grounds, with old carpeting, dark wainscoting, and a stale, musty smell. Cards were pinned to each door with the occupants’ names carefully written in calligraphy. Darcy stopped in front of Room 305.

      “This is you. Looks like you’re with Emma Kim,” Darcy said. She braced the box on her knee and flung the door open.

      The room was empty, and extremely tidy. Light streamed through the enormous bay window opposite the door. Bunk beds were crammed in along the wall where they entered, so the open door smacked up against them. Emma had moved in already, claiming a bunk, a dresser and a desk. Her things were neatly laid out, and the bottom bunk was made up with a pretty duvet and pillows. A poster for a boy band hung over her desk.

      “Emma’s probably out on the Quad. There’s a welcome reception you need to get to,” Darcy said.

      “What’s Emma like?” Bel asked dubiously. From her stuff, she was a neat freak with awful taste in music.

      “Kind of a nerd. Not much money. Plays the violin. But she’s pretty, and not a narc. Anyway, if you don’t like her, you’re welcome to hang with me and the seniors.”

      The offer gave Bel a warm buzz. This cool, older girl liked her. Maybe it wasn’t so bad here.

      “Really? I might take you up on that,” Bel said.

      “People’ll tell you we’re a bad influence, but don’t get scared off.”

      “It’s not true?” Bel asked.

      “Oh, no. It is true.”

      Bel laughed, and Darcy smiled at her approvingly.

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