By the time the plane had landed and I’d stepped out of the terminal and into the fresh air, I could almost pretend the past eight months of my life had just been a bad dream.
The temperature here was in the high seventies, not too far a cry from the sweltering ninety-degree heat I’d left behind, but I hadn’t been prepared for just how green everything was here. The view out of the window on the flight had just been a sea of treetops, and it was nice to see some mountains again after the unbroken flatness of the Midwest. I could almost pretend I was back in California. Almost.
My destination was still a three-hour drive though, so I hitched my backpack higher on my shoulder and went to meet the car my aunt had hired for me. She’d also had the foresight to send my bags ahead directly, so I didn’t have to wait at the baggage carousel.
Despite the early morning sunshine, I dozed fitfully on the drive, worn out from the stress of the flight and preceding weeks of planning. I was wide awake though by the time we passed under the towering archway that spanned the only road in, Lost Lake Academy carved in elegant script on the stone pillars flanking the drive. We passed a small guardhouse, complete with uniformed security guard that waved us through, and I whistled low through my teeth, taking in the old red brick buildings, the manicured lawns, the towering trees. The place looked like something out of a storybook. It looked like money.
A shiver chased up my spine. I definitely wasn’t going to fit in. Not that there’d ever been any doubt, but still.
The car dropped me and my worn backpack off in front of what appeared to be the admissions building, an imposing three-story structure with gothic arched windows and ivy clinging to the bricks.
A folding table had been set up at the base of the steps, students and their families milling around and clustered in groups on the lawn, and I was surprised at this hint of normalcy. No one seemed to pay me any attention as I approached the table, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I waited my turn in the short line.
The woman behind the table was small and harried-looking, hair escaping a bun and dressed too warmly for the weather, but she offered me a bright smile when it was my turn. “Name?”
“Camilla Kaplan.”
She rifled through the box of folders on the table. “You’re new, right?”
“That’s right.”
She pulled out a file, then looked me over. “We don’t often get new senior students. Well,” she said, handing over the folder and beckoning to one of the students milling nearby. “Gary will show you to your dorm, and we give campus tours for the incoming freshmen every half hour, so you’ll want to join one of those. They meet there on the quad.” She gestured to the expanse of lawn on my left. “That packet has your room key, schedule, campus guidebook, student handbook—anything and everything you’ll need to know. If your things were sent ahead they’ll already be in your room.”
I gave a short nod and turned my attention to Gary, a skinny boy with a friendly smile, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt. He beckoned me to follow him down the path.
“What building are you in?” he asked, then laughed at my blank expression. “Let me see your folder.” I handed it over and he flipped it open. “Ah, Farrington. This way. There’s a campus map in there if you want to see where we’re going, but basically, all the dorms are in a big semicircle at the back of campus. It’s not that big; you can’t get lost.”
“Are you…a student?” I asked, and he grinned over his shoulder.
“Yep, sophomore. I volunteered to help with orientation so I could come back to campus early. I get first pick of rooms that way.”
“Ah.”
“She’s right, you know.” He glanced back at me. “We rarely ever get new senior transfers. Almost everyone spends all four years here. Why are you just starting now?”
I opened my mouth to snap out a response, to tell him to mind his own business, but nothing came out. It was like my tongue had frozen to the roof of my mouth. I tried to force some words out, any words—My parents died in a fire and I had to move across the country—but nothing happened. Was