A Dangerous Year

by Kes Trester

  Death would be preferable to showing my face in Pakistan again anyway. This time my dad really would be transferred to someplace punishing, like Siberia. I should probably start working on my Russian.

  “For twenty-six years this has been my school,” she said at last, her voice low and threatening. “I decide who is admitted. I decide who has the character and background necessary to prepare them for a future of leading our institutions, our governments, and our world.” Her eyes narrowed. “And I decide who is out of her depth, who has no business in my school, and who will be dismissed the moment I learn she is not who she pretends to be. Am I making myself clear?”

  My whole body clenched in anger. It was high-handed people like her who thought they had the right to impose their judgments on everyone else. She didn’t know me. Maybe a little sand and grit would do the bluebloods here some good. Until that moment, I’d had one foot on either side of a dividing line ready to be swept in whichever direction the prevailing winds took me. No more. I was here at Harrington, and I was here to stay.

  I leaned forward in my chair and pinned her with a stare. “Not everything that makes a person valuable can be found in some file. I might be different, I might not have a trust fund or a pedigree like some overbred poodle, but I matter.” I flashed briefly on Farida and hoped she was doing better in her new life than I was doing in mine. “So unless you’re planning on hauling me out in the square and having me stoned, I’ll take my school schedule now.”

  She glared at me. I did my best to glare back, but she had years more practice, and I started to waver.

  “If for one minute you don’t live up to the standards we expect of our students, or you make trouble of any kind, school board or not, I will send you straight back to the middle of nowhere. Do you understand?”

  I felt like repeating her words in Arabic and asking if she understood, but I knew when it was time to shut up and run. I nodded curtly.

  She turned to gaze out the window as if she’d already put me from her mind. “Go see Ms. Portman out front.”

  My ridiculous footwear prevented the graceful exit I would have liked, but at least I didn’t fall flat on my face. My knees shook as I stood in front of Ms. Portman again. She barely took her hands off the computer keys as she rolled her swivel chair over to a nearby cabinet and plucked out an envelope.

  “There you are, dear,” she said, the phone still plastered to one ear.

  Staggering out to the hallway, Von kicked off the wall where he’d been leaning, obviously waiting for me the whole time. He peered intently at my face. “Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Merely a dragon, I wanted to tell him. I didn’t miss the irony that here in my own country I was being treated little better than Farida had been in hers. There were no death threats, of course, but this business about deciding who did and didn’t deserve to be educated was frighteningly similar.

  “It’s just been a while since I’ve eaten.” My stomach gurgled in agreement.

  “There’ll be snacks at the dorm. Have you checked out your schedule yet?” He cast a pointed glance at the sealed envelope I’d forgotten was in my hand.

  “Um, no,” I said, not sure how much to share with my new friend. He decided it for me by casually sliding it through my fingers.

  “Wow,” he said, as he looked over the first few pages. “Who are you?”

  “Excuse me?” I snatched my schedule back.

  “No, I mean, not just anyone rooms with Hayden Frasier,” he quickly explained, raising his hands in surrender. “I think they have to be interviewed and go through a background check or something.”

  Fabulous. I hoped she didn’t kill me in my sleep.

  I turned toward the stairwell, ready to clomp my way to wherever I might be able to find food and a chance to regroup. Von tagged along.

  “Hey, I noticed we’re in the same equestrian class, though,” he said cheerfully, as if that was supposed to smooth over our rough patch.

  “Equestrian?” I stopped and desperately scanned my schedule, praying he’d made a mistake. “I can’t take an equestrian class. No way.”

  He looked pained, realizing he’d said the wrong thing again. “Didn’t you know riding is a requirement? Our founder made it part of the school charter.”

  “Was the founder a freakin’ cowboy or something?” My voice rose in panic. “Horses hate me. It’s like the horse underworld got together and marked me for death.”

  His jaw clenched as he tried not to smile. “Don’t worry. A lot of kids have never been on horseback when they come here. You’ll be fine.”

  I had serious doubts about that, but I was also hungry, unsettled, and missing home. Maybe I’d reached my quota of misery for the day, and everything would be fine from here on out.

  “C’mon,” Von said, beckoning me down the stairs. “Let’s find you something to eat.”

  hat’s Watson Hall, the upper girls’ dorm.” Von pointed out a building across the commons the size of a small hotel, similar in style to the place we’d just left, its many windows sparkling in the autumn sunshine.

  “Guys are allowed in the common rooms until ten o’clock,” he added, like I should expect to see him hanging out there a lot. “Further down is Hale Hall, which is where I room.” He pointed to another large structure not too far away.

  We took a gravel pathway cutting through the park. Von kept up a running patter, which I listened to with half an ear. I tuned in when he tugged open the front door of my new home and said, “There are vending machines on the top floor. I recommend the Doritos dinamita mojo criollos.” I didn’t know what language he spoke but nodded anyway. “Check in with your house mother, and she’ll take you from there.”

  The moment I’d been dreading most, meeting Hayden Frasier, had arrived, but there was no putting it off any longer. “Thanks, Von. I really appreciate all your help.”

  He held the door for me, looking pleased.

  I stiffened at the high-pitched shrieks and laughter bouncing down the stairwell and into the busy lobby. I felt like a bird who’d fallen out of the nest and been raised by another species. Suddenly, my cage door had opened, and I was expected to soar with the rest of the flock. There was a reason creatures like these were never returned to the wild.

  A frizzy-haired older woman with pale, watery eyes waved me over to the reception desk. She wore a broken-down cardigan over a shapeless brown dress, and bifocals perched on the end of her nose. She inspected me with a practiced eye before her narrow face rearranged itself into the mandatory expression of welcome.

  “Welcome to Watson Hall,” she said. “I’m Mrs. Stanton, the housemistress. You must be our new senior.” I must have made the right noises because she nodded. “Let me call a prefect to take you to your room.” It took only a moment for her to pluck a girl out of the stream flowing past. “Sarah Jane!”

  A sharp-eyed girl with delicate features and skin the color of well-steeped tea broke off and trudged over, her dark hair pulled back into such a severe knot, I wondered if her eyebrows lowered when she let it down.

  Mrs. Stanton made the introductions. “This is Sarah Jane Chopra, one of the prefects. Think of her as an extension of my authority. Sarah Jane, this is Hayden Frasier’s new roommate, Riley Collins.”

  She blinked a few times in surprise before her features settled into a blank slate. The girl would be a wicked chess opponent if she played.

  “She’s in 312.” Mrs. Stanton held up a key attached to an ornate fob in the shape of a W.

  Sarah Jane snagged the key. “This way,” she said without pausing to see if I followed.

  We marched past old, dark wood paneling, vintage carpets in hues of scarlet and gold, and crystal chandeliers. The place looked like it had been built in the same era as the great hall, but as the shiny elevator doors slid silently open, you could tell no expense had been spared to bring it up to date.

  “Mandatory study periods are on school nights from 7:30 p.m. to 9
:30 p.m., and there’s no changing seats once the study bell rings,” she droned in a British accent not quite as posh as those of the English diplomats I’d met through the years. More conservatively dressed than the other girls, she wore a baggy crewneck sweater and a knee-length skirt. Maybe she thought it made her look more in charge. “Curfew’s at ten, and you better hope you’re dead if you miss it, because otherwise I will kill you.”

  After my ordeal with McKenna, there was no way some little overlord of the hallways would be pushing me around. “Listen, Sarah Jane…”

  “Where did you transfer from?” Behind a pair of oversized glasses, Sarah Jane didn’t appear at all interested, but she’d neatly cut me off.

  “Homeschooled,” I said flatly.

  “You’ve never been to a boarding school before?” She suddenly perked up, but in the same way a cat did when a mouse ran across its paws.

  “Nope,” I answered, now completely wary.

  “Well,” she said, facing forward as the elevator slid to a halt, “this should be interesting.”

  The doors reopened on a party. Girls mingled in the hallway, yelling over each other and the music blaring out of a nearby room. New arrivals were treated to hugs and squeals, and new clothes and tans exclaimed over. Someone’s black-suited driver wheeled a cart stacked with expensive trunks and luggage down the hall while the few remaining parents looked on indulgently.

  I followed in Sarah Jane’s wake as she barged through it all, though nobody acknowledged her or even gave her a second glance. It appeared the prefect’s high opinion of her authority wasn’t shared by anyone else.

  We reached room 312, and Sarah Jane zipped through the open door. I walked in a bit more slowly. Another huge disappointment might send me right over the edge.

  I took two steps into the room and halted in surprise. I’d always imagined dorm rooms to be little more than prison cells with barely enough room for a narrow cot and maybe a washstand. Sort of like Jane Eyre goes to college.

  This was more like Eloise at The Ritz. A bank of six-pane windows with a built-in window seat centered the elegant space, a sizable room painted moss green with splashes of fresh white trim. Pretty white bedroom sets on either side mirrored one another.

  One bedroom set was completely decked-out, as if an interior design fairy had waved a magic wand over a high-end home catalog. Bedding, throw pillows, accent rugs, and wall hangings in shades complimentary to the room were perfectly arranged. The other side was naked by comparison, but at least a fresh stack of snowy bed linens and fluffy towels had been left on the bare mattress. My luggage had found its way to the room and now sat neatly stacked next to a giant armoire.

  Two girls stared at us from their perch on the wide window seat. I immediately recognized Hayden, who except for a scowl looked just as fabulous in person. Thin and with legs that went on for miles, her skin glowed like she’d just spent a month at the beach, which according to her file, she had. Stephen Frasier had a collection of houses around the world, several of them in tropical locations.

  The other girl wasn’t nearly as striking, but neither did she look like she planned to poison my tea at the first opportunity. Her long, thick curls were a rich shade of brown, her curvy figure probably left guys panting after her in the hallways, and her skin was so clear, no freckle would dare come within fifty feet. I recognized the Prada boots she wore as a seriously expensive pair I’d tried on at Barney’s.

  Sarah Jane zeroed in on Hayden’s displeasure. “Planned on having the place to yourself, huh, Frasier?”

  “Bite me, Chopra,” Hayden snapped, flipping her off.

  “Meet your new roommate, Riley Collins,” she said with way too much glee. “Riley, this is Hayden Frasier and Quinn Sheffield.”

  “Hey,” Quinn said with a cheerful wave, though Hayden quickly shut her down with a glare.

  Sarah Jane avidly watched the scene unfold. All she needed was a bag of popcorn to enjoy the show. I had no clue why there was so much hostility in the room, but the prefect had to go.

  “Thanks a lot, Sarah Jane,” I said in the dismissive tone Benson used on raw recruits. “I’ve got it from here.”

  She shot me a look mirroring Hayden’s, but there wasn’t much she could do about it.

  When it was just the three of us, Quinn looked to Hayden. “Why don’t we give Riley some space,” she suggested. “I heard there’s pizza in the common.”

  Hayden unfolded herself from the bench. She moved to the door but paused, resentment evident in her rigid stance. “You shouldn’t be here,” she said. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  “Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” I said, completely done with this whole miserable day. I was sick of everyone acting like I’d been shoved down their throats.

  Hayden stalked from the room, but Quinn followed more slowly. “Hayden was supposed to room with Rose Winters this year,” she said. “They were roommates last year, and this year was supposed to be epic, being seniors and all.”

  “So what happened?” I asked, my clipped tone stopping Quinn at the door. “Where is this Rose?”

  Her features arranged themselves into an expression of sympathy, with perhaps a touch of satisfaction as well. “You didn’t hear? Rose is dead.”

  I spent the rest of Sunday afternoon thinking about ways to kill “Aunt” Karen and getting settled in. How dare she overlook such a crucial detail? There was a reason Harrington didn’t admit seniors; they had to wait for one of them to die to make room! What else was out there waiting to ambush me?

  I yanked sheets onto the bed as I fumed, dumped my beauty products into the only empty drawer remaining in the bathroom, and stowed everything else in the armoire. It had loads of hanging space as well as drawers, a shoe rack, and multi-paneled doors that became full-length mirrors when you folded them back.

  The only things I took out of my disreputable duffle before jamming it under the bed were the going away presents from my dad and Benson. The custom carved chess set from Dad went right on my nightstand, but Benson’s parting gift had to be stored a bit more discreetly.

  Some honorary uncles might give you jewelry or a computer. Not Benson. He’d proudly presented me with a top-of-the-line Taser with a twenty-five-foot range. It was a good thing I didn’t have to go through the usual airport screenings.

  “Remember how to use one?” he’d asked.

  It couldn’t be simpler. “Point and shoot.”

  He’d also included several compressed gas cartridges for quick reloads. Nothing says love like giving the gift of incapacitating your enemy. It went into my new Céline handbag for quick access.

  Finally winding down, hunger pangs struck. Quinn had mentioned there was pizza in the common room, so I wandered down to the end of the hall. Spacious and airy, its windows offered unobstructed views of Harrington Hall on one side, the winding Connecticut River on the other. A mixed group of students sprawled out on the two enormous curved sofas dominating the space, with low-slung game tables set at intervals along the sides. A giant flat screen commanded the entire wall in front of the area, while an open kitchen and three round dining tables were set up behind.

  Best of all, there was no sign of Hayden. I didn’t know how I’d react if she came at me again, but better it happen without the dozen or so people in the room to witness and spread gossip. Some were glued to a rerun of a mindless sitcom, while others read or played backgammon.

  No one appeared to notice as I rummaged through the boxes of cold pizza on the kitchen counter, grabbing a few slices of pepperoni and onion before silently drifting back to my room like the resident ghost.

  I checked my phone about a thousand times through the evening, waiting for the time my dad would normally be reading his morning emails. I desperately needed to see a friendly face even if it was a continent away, but I wasn’t going to wake him up a second night in a row. Thankfully, I was still alone when the time arrived.

  His face appeared within moments of logging onto Skyp
e. Still unshaven, he wore a sweaty T-shirt, with a white towel carelessly tossed over one shoulder. A trip to the embassy’s gym had left his face flushed but instead of chugging water, he swilled coffee.

  “Hey Dad,” I greeted him, determined to put a good face on it, “still no sleep last night?”

  His crow’s feet crinkled as he smiled. “It doesn’t feel the same around here without you, but don’t worry, I’ll adjust. Is that your room?”

  I slowly spun my new computer—maybe Karen did come with a few perks—in a 360. “Can you believe this place?”

  He let out a low whistle. “How many roommates do you have?”

  “Just the one,” I said, keeping an ear out for her. I started to tell him about my painful meeting with Mrs. McKenna when Benson bellowed, “Are you talking to our girl?”

  Dressed for the day in his usual white cotton button-down, Benson’s beaming face popped up over my dad’s shoulder. “Darlin’ girl! Are they rolling out the red carpet for you there?”

  “Well,” I hemmed, knowing he would reach through the screen if he could and throttle anyone who was less than welcoming. “I just got here. I haven’t had a chance to really meet anyone yet.”

  His eyes narrowed under bushy brows. “I see,” he said darkly. “You let me know if anyone gives you any flack, and I’ll be more than happy to call in an air strike.”

  Dad cupped his chin and sighed. He was well used to hearing Benson’s outsized responses to anything that troubled me. “If you are done threatening to blow up a lovely part of the eastern seaboard, I’d like to hear more about the school.”

  “Well, there’s a new female head of security that I’m supposed to meet with,” I volunteered. “Do either of you know a Major Taylor?”