PART ONEthe fall
CHAPTER 1lorena
“Holy Pemberley.”
The words escape my lips like a breath as I stare up at the Victorian manor with its arched windows and pointy towers. The sprawling estate looks like it was ripped from the pages of my favorite nineteenth-century novels.
The stone walls are stained shades of gray, but from certain angles they look black. The late-afternoon orange sun flares against the glass windows, setting the house’s insides ablaze. Even though the start date for classes had to be pushed back for construction delays, nothing about this place looks unfinished or deteriorated.
“It’s so… stately.”
I turn to meet my best friend’s thickly lined eyes. She doesn’t mean it as a compliment. Salma was hoping for something slightly more decrepit and ominous.
I turn in a small circle, taking in the vast manicured lawns, adorned with metal benches, bronze busts, and sculptures of fanged lions, taloned peacocks, winged angels, and a tailed demon with horns. “What about that demon?” I ask.
“I’ve seen scarier,” she says.
I scan her black combat boots, ripped black stockings, black miniskirt,oversized black sweater, and dark purple lipstick. “You do realize the school uniform isn’t black and white like our old one, right?”
Salma has been wearing all-black since eighth grade—the same year she discovered Poe, Evanescence, and her mom’s deadly diagnosis.
“Mr. Santos emailed the director and said that I would be opting out of the requirement because I’m in mourning.”
Mr. Santosis what Salma calls the fake email address she created for her father years ago and provided to our old school. Since he’s always traveling, email is the best way to reach him.
“And you didn’t tell me?” I ask in surprise.
“I was waiting for her to respond, but she never did.”
“So how do you know you’re exempt?”
“Only one way to find out!” She bares her teeth in a would-be smile, but the mirth doesn’t reach her heavy brown eyes. They’ve been lightless since—
“You’re sure you don’t want me to go in with you, Lorena?”
We spin around at the sound of Ma’s voice. I’d almost forgotten she was still here, which is morbidly funny, considering her omnipresence in my life.
“We’re fine,” I say, a little too forcefully.
“I can’t believe we’re going to be apart,” says Ma, and while I won’t say it, I can’t, either. Salma and I have been attending the same private school in New York City since pre-K. We’ve never even been away to summer camp.
“Don’t worry, Tía Viv,” says my best friend. “We’ll look out for each other.”
“I know you will, Salmita,” says Ma.
Salma used to hate that nickname when we were younger, but her eyebrows don’t crease anymore when she hears it. Not since Tía Elena died.
Our mothers became best friends when they were about our age, so Salma and I have known each other since birth—literally,given that we were born on the same day.
“Well, this is it, then,” says Ma, sizing me up and down like she’s scanning my image and turning it into a memory. I get my curly hair and honey-brown eyes from her, but my tanner skin and right cheek dimple from Pa. His firm is working on a big case, so he couldn’t make the trip with us.
“We’ll call once we’re settled,” says Salma, and I can tell that she’s eager to get going.
“You better.” Ma pulls her into a tight embrace.
My best friend isn’t a hugger, so when she doesn’t let Ma go right away, Iknow this is harder for her than she’s letting on. I look around to give them some privacy.
Gangly trees line the path from the iron gates, their limbs balding in the unseasonable chill. Driving over from the airport, we wound through dense forest for so long that I have no idea what direction we came from or how to get back to civilization. I’ve never even visited a place this remote, so I can’t imagine living here.
