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The tour group was long gone, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what I’d missed. The campus really wasn’t that big. I showed myself past the James C. Mattingly Library and Media Center, the infirmary, which—shocker—didn’t seem to be named after anyone, as well as the rec center and adjacent sports fields. By that point I’d looped back around to the quad in front of the admissions building and had almost managed to get the dark-haired stranger’s face out of my head. Managed to forget about the pent-up energy I’d felt in the air around him like crackling electricity, about the piercing green challenge of his eyes and his slow smile.
Okay, maybe not.
But I had managed to convince myself that I’d overreacted, and behaved like an idiot. Not that I supposed it mattered.
It was closing in on six o’clock when I found myself back in my room, where Nora and Frank were getting ready for dinner.
“You hungry?” Nora asked, then overrode my response with a dismissive wave of her hand. “It doesn’t matter, you’re coming with us anyway.”
“No Julie?” I asked, before ducking into the bathroom to wash my face.
“Nah,” Frank answered, “she’ll be with her boyfriend. We probably won’t see her again ’til tomorrow.”
I didn’t bother asking about the no-boys-in-girl’s-dorms-after-ten rule Gary had informed me of, assuming that a) there was almost certainly a corresponding no-girls-in-boy’s-dorms-after-ten rule, and b) there were likely ten ways around every rule, and rich kids were going to do whatever the hell they wanted anyway.
As we waited for Nora to finish slicking on a coat of lip gloss—to go eat dinner?—I took a look around the suite. Since I’d been gone the worn couch had mysteriously vanished, replaced by an oversized, pristine leather sectional and a wide screen television. A patterned rug covered the old carpet, and a small refrigerator had appeared in the corner. Apparently my surprise was evident, because Frank gave a snicker. “This is nothing,” she told me. “I knew some guys sophomore year that put a billiards table in their common area.”
I blinked. Was everyone here crazy?
Finally Nora was ready and we descended the stairs and headed out on the short walk toward the dining hall.
“Your outfit is really cute,” Nora informed me as we took a shortcut through the trees.
I looked down and wrinkled my nose at my clothing. Compared to her and Frank’s form-fitting jeans and designer sandals, my clothes practically labelled me a hobo. I’d probably spent about twenty dollars tops on the slouchy shirt that kept falling off my shoulder and the paint-splattered jeans. Not to mention the same flip flops I’d been wearing religiously since summer had started. My aunt may have bought me a whole new wardrobe to wear here, but that didn’t mean I was actually going to wear it.
“It really is,” Frank chimed in. “You look like you don’t care.”
I didn’t care, but I wasn’t sure that was a compliment.
“It’s a good thing,” she informed me, reading my mind. “Everyone here cares too much.”
“Or tries really hard to look like they don’t care,” Nora put in with a laugh, “which just makes them look like they care even more.”
“So, which ones are you?” I asked, and Frank grinned.
“Oh, we definitely care too much.”
I snickered, and Nora linked her elbow through mine, and I surprised myself by not hating it. I wasn’t here looking for friends, but maybe having a couple wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
4
The dining hall was nothing like what I expected. I’d imagined something similar to the cafeteria at my old high schools—one big room with a stack of trays next to a line of questionable options. But I would practically need a tour just to find my way around this place.
It was basically an enormous all-you-could-eat buffet, with an endless array of options lining a dining room filled with the kind of tables you might find at a high-end restaurant. We laid claim to a small table in the corner before I left to explore.
There was a salad bar against one wall with more choices than I would ever have imagined for something as mundane as a salad. A build-your-own pizza station sat next to an enormous variety of cooked dishes, from fish to chicken to lasagna to pot pie. An entire station of bread. Another huge selection of drinks, served in actual glassware. A dessert bar that practically made my eyes cross. By the time I made it back to the table, my plate loaded high with more food than I could possibly actually eat, Nora was grinning at me over her raised fork.
“You know the best part?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“They keep the dessert bar open until eleven o’clock.”
“Holy shit.”
“Right?”
“If you can afford it, there are some perks to this place,” Frank put in.
