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"Hold up," she calls, following after me into the foyer.
I'm pacing in front of the main doors, trying to wrap my head around what kind of messed up school I got sentenced to, by the time she catches up.
"It's different than you were expecting, huh?" she asks calmly, but with a tone of understanding. "It is for everyone when they first get here."
I stop and stare at her. "Where is here? I have no idea where I am."
Her eyes tighten in confusion. "They didn't tell you?"
I shake my head. "I didn't even know the name of the school until I arrived. I know I'm not in Massachusetts. But where? New York? Connecticut?"
"Vermont," she answers. "In a town called Kingston. It's not a large town. The students from the two private schools and the skiers in the winter months bring in more people than probably live here year-round. But we pretty much keep to ourselves." She motions toward another set of doors on the opposite side of the foyer. "Want to take a walk around?"
I shrug in indifference.
When we're through the doors, I'm struck by an overwhelmingly sweet fragrance. Across the small rectangle of grass is what appears to be a tunnel formed by wisteria vines.
"We call this the Court. I suppose it's meant to be short for courtyard. It connects all of the buildings together."
The emerald green lawn stretches the length of the building, interrupted by hedges that are a story tall. We're caged in by the shrubbery and the only way out, other than going back into the building, is through the flowers.
I look over the top of the hedges and wisteria at the surrounding buildings. The one directly opposite of us is so far away, I can barely see it. The rest are evenly spaced to form a perfect circle around the Court.
"Straight across are the dorms. It's difficult to see them from here. I'll show you once we get farther in." We walk through the arching purple blooms. Bees whir overhead. "It can get pretty confusing once you enter because all the buildings are exactly the same, but each one has its own distinct entrance into the Court. I have a map of the buildings that I'll give to you. But I don't have one of the Court. It changes a little all the time; there isn't an accurate map."
I'm about to ask what she means when we emerge on the other side of the wisteria tunnel, only to walk into a small forest of birch trees. This is weird.
"Is this some kind of maze?"
"They call it 'an intricate architectural landscape,' but essentially, yes, it's--"
"Fucked up."
I spin around, and hidden within the spotted white trunks is a girl sitting on a framed white swing. The kind that belongs on a front porch in a cute town, not in a tiny forest of birch trees.
"Ashton!" Sophia scolds her.
r /> "Aw. Did I scare you?" Ashton asks with a Cheshire smile. A cloud of smoke seeps out and around her full lips. She takes another hit from the vape dangling from her fingers. She looks like she belongs in a rock magazine in her leather pants and neon pink bandeau, lounging casually on the swing with one leg dangling, an arm draped over the back. The bare feet are a little strange though. "I'm Ashton." She smiles again, her attention focused on me. "Is Sophia being the perfect tour guide?"
"We just started," I tell her.
"Oh, good." She hops up from her perch, leaving the swing rocking in her wake and weaving between the trees to join us. "There's still time."
"For what?" I ask, finally getting a good look at the odd girl. Her sapphire blue eyes inspect me in return. Chestnut hair falls in thick, wavy layers over her shoulders. She's stunning and could easily be a model with her long legs wrapped in skin-tight leather. She's practically an Amazon next to me, even in bare feet.
"Let me translate for you," Ashton offers, unable to suppress the drug-induced grin.
"I speak English," I tell her with an amused laugh. This girl must be seriously high.
"Not for you." Ashton looks to Sophia. "For you, because someone needs to tell her how it really is around here. Not the propaganda of lies the administration makes you memorize."
Sophia's mouth opens in offense.
"Don't get all pissy." Ashton half-heartedly pacifies her. "It's not your fault you try to paint a positive coat of bullshit over everything. I blame your parents for demanding perfection. And since my parents are narcissistic asshats who don't give a fuck, I'm ... me. The complete opposite of you. Which is why I'm the translator." Ashton looks to me. "Ready?"
"Translate away." Everything she just said sounded like a distorted riddle. This should be entertaining.
Sophia huffs in annoyance but doesn't stop Ashton from joining us when we begin walking again.
