Our roommate shrugs. “Insta-love’s not really my thing.”
“I didn’t believe in it, either,” says Salma, who is the furthest thing from a romantic, “but it literally just happened in front of us!”
Guilt makes it hard for me to look at her, and I pretend to be rummaging through my bag for something because my mind is still reeling. What the hell is the vampire doing dressed as a student?
I was too livid in class to read a single page ofJane Eyre,so I just watched him leaf through the first quarter of the book in a matter of minutes. “You are supposed toread,dear,” Director Minaro said to him, and only then did William slow down and pretend to read at a mortal’s pace.
That left him plenty of time to stare back at me.
No wonder my friends think we’re in love. The vampire has as much subtlety as one of Tiffany’s insults.
It was so bizarre seeing him out of his eighteenth-century garb and inour student uniform. Before, he was like a priceless work of art, untouchable. Now, he’s…real.
“Talk, damn it!”
Salma is staring at me, arms across her chest. “You just fell in love at first sight!”
“I did not!” I pull out my notebook to pretend I’m about to do some homework.
“Maybe he just heard she was famous,” says Tiffany, and I stiffen. “Isn’t that why those girls wanted your autograph the other night?”
“What is she talking about?” Salma asks me.
I shrug it off. “Just two girls in our class asking for a selfie.”
“I doubt the new kid cares about what your mom does,” says Salma. “He looked like he wanted todevouryou—”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I say, my pulse competing with her voice.
“We finally agree on something!” chimes in Tiffany.
“You have to admit he’s giving Darcy,” says Salma in a low voice only I can hear. “Guess you’re going to be a lot less homesick—”
“Now that Lorena has been saved from eternal spinsterhood,” says Tiffany loudly, “should we start on our extracurricular applications?”
“Yes!” I say, unbothered by her dig and happy for the change of direction. She hands each of us a blank application, and we sit at our desks to work.
Salma’s desk is adjacent to mine, by the bunk beds, while Tiffany’s is across the room and closer to the window.
My plan to tell Minaro about William and the LUB won’t work now that the vampire is staying here. He’s probably still spying on me to make sure I’m keeping his secret. He’ll know if I betray his trust. And my recording won’t protect me for long.
I exhale heavily, and Salma knits her brow. I shake my head like it’s nothing, and I focus on the form.
At the top is a blank field for the name of the group. I press my ballpoint pen onto the paper and start to put downBook—
But I cross it out and write something else instead:
Shakespeare club.
I’M SOanxious about dinner tonight that I drag us down too early, and we’re the first ones in the dining hall.
“Why are we here before the food?” whines Tiffany.
“Because Lore is in love,” says Salma musically, sounding way too excited. I want to both tell her the truth and let her keep hoping. I love seeing her bubbly like this, but I hate how much I’m lying to her.
“Let’s bring over an extra chair,” suggests Salma.
“It’s five to a table,” I point out.
