Mean Girls. Louise Rozett
Dana, who didn’t move.
“Come in?” I said, standing. It was Madison and Julia, who, clearly, never left each other’s sides.
“So, are you down to come to the party later?” Julia asked.
“Is it like a school thing?”
Madison furrowed her brows, still smiling. “No?”
I hesitated, weighing the options between risking getting in trouble but being social and taking the safe route of staying in my room. What was the worst that could happen, I’d have to transfer back home?
“Yeah, sure.”
They both smiled, said, “Cool,” and then they walked off, leaving Dana and me alone again, as if the brief exchange had never happened.
“Are you going?”
Her eyes opened, and she stared at the ceiling. “Maybe. Probably not.”
“Okay.” I sat back down.
She grabbed her book and went back to “reading.”
After a few more minutes, my things finally arrived, and I told the guy to just go ahead and set them on the floor. I stood above the pile, considering it for a long moment.
“Dana?” I said quietly. She looked up, and I withered. “Sorry. Um. Do you think … Should I take down these pictures and the frames and everything?”
She said nothing. This was unnecessarily uncomfortable.
“I mean … I could pack them up ….” I trailed off lamely, not looking forward to the prospect.
She still said nothing. All I wanted to do was text Leah and share with her how completely, totally weird this all was. I wanted to tell her how I couldn’t wait until next year; we’d both been accepted to Florida State University and fully intended to be roommates.
Instead, my phone sat in some lockbox downstairs, and I tried to arrange my things neatly and accessibly in my boxes and suitcases. After that quick task, I lay down in my new bed and tried to ignore the bright blue eyes staring down at me from almost every picture. I picked up the first Harry Potter book in an effort to get excited about boarding school again, and waited quietly in my bed for Madison and Julia to fetch me for the party that would begin it all.
chapter 2 becca
One year ago
“I MEAN, CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY SENT ME HERE?” Becca sat, legs and arms crossed, in the backseat, complaining to the taxi driver she wasn’t even sure spoke English. He nodded every now and again, but that was about it. She didn’t even care, she was venting. “And you know why?”
The driver made eye contact with her in the rearview mirror.
Becca leaned forward. “Because I can’t ‘keep my grades up.’ They think that’ll be easier here? All of these kids probably study nonstop. They’re probably all supersmart.” She sat back again, with a disgruntled noise. “I mean that’s not the only reason they made me come. I just … I hate both of my parents. My mom used to be okay, but now she just does whatever my dad says.”
Nod from the driver.
“Yeah, it sucks. They don’t know how to handle me so therefore they—what—ship me off? That is fantastic parenting.” She was silent for a moment before another thought struck her. “This is their fault anyway. Isn’t it all about the parenting? Isn’t the ‘troubled teenager’ thing just the lashing out of an ignored or neglected child?”
Nod.
“Exactly. See, even you understand it.” She sighed as they pulled up to Manderley. “But I don’t know. Maybe this will be better.”
The taxi stopped by all the others along the very long entryway road, and the driver got out to remove her suitcases and boxes.
“Lot of stuff,” he remarked with a smile when Becca clicked over in her high-heeled boots to join him at the back of the van.
“Yes, because this is my last two freaking years of high school, and they don’t even want me at home. So I just brought all of it with me.”
Nod. “Pay.” He held out a hand.
“Ah.” She dug into her purse. “You do accept cards, right? Cards?” She held one up when he clearly didn’t know what she was saying.
Nod.
She looked down at her things, and then at the sidewalk, which was another six or seven feet. Becca smiled and looked at the driver. “Could you be a sweetheart and move them up there for me? Please?”
He cleared his throat and then did as she asked. When he came back, she handed him her credit card and waited. He brought back a receipt. She signed it, putting twenty dollars on the tip line. The next minute, he was back in the car and driving off.
For the briefest of moments, she felt weird watching him go. She was alone. This was her first year at a brand-new school, and she knew no one. Even that driver, whatever his unpronounceable, all consonant name was, had felt like company on the ride from the airport.
“Miss?”
Some guy with a cart startled her. “Jesus, what?”
“I can take your things and deliver them to your room.”
“Okay, it’s all right there.” She pointed.
“Student ID number and room number?”
She screwed up her face. “I have no clue.”
“It should have come in the mail with your roommate’s name and your rule book.”
She shrugged.
He looked down at his pad of paper. “Okay, just give me your name, then.”
“Rebecca Normandy.”
“You don’t know any of your information?”
“No.”
He clicked the side of his walkie-talkie, and it bleeped. “Hey, Bill?”
A few seconds passed before “Bill” answered. “Yeah.”
“Can you look up a student’s information for me?”
Another couple of seconds. “Go ahead.”
“Rebecca … Normandy.” He spelled her last name, and then wrote down what Bill’s muffled voice reported.
She was getting impatient, and then had a terrible moment where she realized she wasn’t eager to get anywhere.
“And how many items?”
Becca looked at him for a moment. He was looking right at them, did she really need to tell him? She glanced meaningfully down at them and then back to him.
He took a deep breath and counted, then handed her a ticket he’d recorded it on. “Okay, hang on to this. On the back I wrote down your room number and student ID number. You’ll need those to get your key up there at the cell phone drop.”
She froze. “So sorry, the what?”
He gave her a look. “Didn’t read any of the info, huh?”
“Uh-uh. Did you say cell phone drop?”
“They’ll tell you the hours you can check it back out.”
Becca sighed and followed the rest of the students up to the line that ended at a window. It was way too long to wait in. She went up to the next person in line. Luckily, it was a guy.
“Hi, I’m new here, and I’m so sorry to ask this, but do you mind if I just drop off my cell real fast? I wouldn’t ask, but I’m just feeling so sick from the ride