I felt my cheeks warm and buried my face in my tea. “Well,” I said between sips, “not everything. I mean—”
“She’s cute because she’s humble,” Khloe teased.
I rolled my eyes at myself and offered the box of tea to Lexa again. Lexa picked up a packet of spearmint tea. “This sounds refreshing. It’s so hot outside.”
“That really will cool you down,” I said. “And it’s good with ice, too. But I only brought two mugs.”
Khloe opened a cabinet above the microwave and motioned to the shelves as though she were modeling on a game show.
The cabinet was filled top to bottom with mugs. Dragon flies, horses, funny sayings. Green mugs adorned with yellow-gold Canterwood logos.
Lexa took a go Canterwood! mug and opened a drawer next to the stove. It was filled with sugar packets, Sweet’N Low, Sugar In The Raw, and my fave—Splenda. Lexa plucked out two banana-yellow packets of Splenda and shut the drawer with her hip. I unwrapped her bag of spearmint tea and placed it in her mug. She ripped open the two Splendas and poured the contents in. I made sure no one’s fingers were anywhere but the mug handle before pouring the steaming kettle water in last.
“Thanks, Lauren!” Lexa said.
“Now it’s an official tea party!” Khloe said. “Let’s grab the window seat and chat.”
Lexa and I followed Khloe. The window seat was tucked away from the center of the common room.
We sank into the black cushions, Khloe and I with our backs against the wall and Lexa cross-legged in the middle. The window looked out over the tennis court and outdoor pool. Two of Canterwood’s many facilities that I couldn’t wait to use.
“So, when did you start at Canterwood?” I asked Lexa, gesturing to her with my mug.
“Sixth grade,” she said. “Same year as Khlo. My parents sent me here for the academics, but I came to ride.”
“Oh, yay! Another rider!” I grinned. “Did you bring your own horse?”
“Only the love of my life! My mare, Honor,” Lexa said. “You?”
“I’ve got a mare, too. Her name’s Whisper and I just got her over the summer, so we’re still getting used to each other. But I totally understand what you mean. I’m already so in love with Whisper. I can’t imagine how I’ll feel after we’ve had a whole year to bond.”
“Whisper’s such a pretty name,” Lexa said. “I bet our horses are all going to be friends.”
Khloe looked back and forth between us, smiling like she was keeping the juiciest secret ever kept!
“KK, you know you want to spill something,” Lexa said, beating me to it.
“Yeah,” I encouraged. “I don’t know all of your tell-tale ‘looks’ yet . . . but even I can tell you’re dying to say something. So I agree with Lexa—spill away.” I smiled to encourage her further.
“It’s just . . . tea party love. My new roomie and my best bestie are bonding.” She fanned her eyes with her right hand, fingers splayed, pretending to fight off tears. “It’s a lovefest.”
Lexa rolled her eyes but we were both laughing. “Aaand . . . we can bond evenmore if we have classes together,” Lexa teased. She half stood, pulling a folded piece of paper from the back pocket of her jeans. “Schedules?”
“Mine’s in our room,” Khloe said.
“Mine too,” I said.
Khloe set her mug on the table next to her. “I glanced at it, but I don’t remember it at all. I’ll grab it. Lauren, want me to get yours?”
“Mine’s on top of my desk,” I said. “Thank you so much, Khlo.”
Khloe held up her hands in a stop-everything motion. “Did you just say Khlo?” she asked.
Oh no . My first day and I’d already called my roommate by a name she clearly hated.
“Omigod, I’m so—”
“I’ve been LT’d!” Khloe broke in joyously.
“Wait,” I said, heart pounding. “You liked when I called you that?”
Lexa broke in as Khloe nodded emphatically. “Way to traumatize your new roommate on day one.” Lexa shook her head.
“How?” Khloe asked. “I got LT’d—she gave me a nickname. That’s how we do!”
“Because I like you,” Lexa said to me with a smile. “I’m going to give you a crash course in Khloe 101.”
“I’ll take it!” I said. I made a come-here motion with my hands. “Lay it on me.”
“First: never take her too seriously.”
“Got it,” I said.
“Except—and this is rule number two—if you see tears.”
“Really?”
“Really,” Lexa said. “Khloe never cries. So if she does, something is wrong. And last?”
“Yes?”
“Khloe is the funnest person of anyone I know. You won the roommate lottery.” Lexa smiled kindly. “And from what I can tell, so did she. So have fun . This school can get so serious. You and KK seem good for each other. Just don’t steal her away completely.”
Despite the smile on her face, I detected a hint of seriousness in that one and I took note that Lexa liked people in her circle to share. She was the cutest—and had been nothing but kind to me. But still, I wouldn’t want to get on her bad side.
“I’d never steal her,” I promised. “Not that she’d stand for being stolen.”
Lexa laughed. “Sounds like you’ve got it down. Nah, you don’t need my help.”
“Like I said—I take everything I can get,” I said again.
“The way Canterwood lets us set up our schedules is so cool,” I said to Lexa, changing the subject. “At my old school, we had to meet with a guidance counselor who pretty much decided our schedules for us based on previous classes and test scores. This way is so much better.”
“It’s actually new for seventh graders and above,” Lexa said. “Last year, we had to meet with a guidance counselor too—Ms. Utz, you’ll meet her soon enough. She basically helped us decide our schedules. The new system is so much easier.”
“I might have obsessed about it a teensy bit,” I said, totally understating the degree of my obsession.
“Obsessed to the point where I’d needed an intervention” would’ve been more accurate. I’d spent hours every day of summer break looking at the Canterwood course catalog. I’d received a copy of the eighty-three page catalog. Eighty-three pages! For seventh graders alone! I read the catalog cover to cover multiple times. I highlighted. I sticky-noted.
At one point, Becca, half-asleep, had stumbled into my room at three in the morning one of the many nights when I’d been up with a sticky tab on every finger and a highlighter permanently affixed to my right hand. Without saying a word, she’d taken the catalog from me and walked out of my room. The next morning, I crawled into bed with her and she pulled the catalog out from under her pillow. She told me she’d done it for my own good and that if I didn’t choose my classes today, she’d do it herself and mail it in.
Khloe held my schedule out for me to take it and snapped me back to reality. She pulled up a chair, facing Lexa and me.
The schedule swap was on!
SCHEDULE SWAP
“LET’S SEE WHAT WE’VE GOT,” KHLOE SAID, tracing her schedule with her right pointer finger. “We better have some classes together or this will be the worst year of my entire life!” She sat back in her chair, fanning herself with the paper.
Lexa, smiling, rolled her eyes, and looked at me, holding up one finger—as in, rule number one—don’t take anything Khloe says too seriously.
I made a check mark motion in the air so she knew I got it.
She turned to Khloe. “I’d give that performance a B minus,” she told her.
Khloe’s mouth fell open. “No way. B plus, easy.”
Lexa shook her head. “The best I can do is a solid B.”
Khloe paused, contemplating this. “Was it the fanning? I knew I was pushing it.”
Lexa shrugged. “The fanning is too dramatic.”
“Hmm. Okay, I can take direction,” Khloe said. “No fan.�
��
“You could have made wide eyes and chewed your bottom lip,” I suggested, playing along with the banter.
Khloe put a hand over her heart. “When I’m accepting my first Oscar, I’ll thank you both in my speech.”
“What about your second Oscar?” Lexa asked.
Khloe shook her head, a serious expression on her face. “Oh, no—I’ll be waaay too famous and important by then. I’ll have forgotten you long ago.”
We laughed together and I finally looked at my paper.
“Okay, I’ve got math with Ms. Utz,” I said.
“Me too!” Khloe and Lexa said at the same time.
We high-fived.
“American history with Mr. Spellman,” I said.
Khloe smiled. “Same.”
“Count me out,” Lexa said.
“English with Mr. Davidson,” I continued.
“You’re stuck with me again,” Khloe said.
“Not it,” Lexa said.
“French III with Madame LaFleur,” I offered.
Khloe and Lexa shook their heads. “Spanish I with Señora Garcia,” Lexa said.
“I’ve got her, too,” Khloe said.
The two friends smiled at each other.
“I can’t believe you’re taking French III ,” Lexa said. “That’s waaay advanced. Most ninth graders don’t even take it.”
“I took French at my old school,” I said. “And I studied it on my own. I love the way it sounds—it’s such a romantic language.”
I looked back at my schedule. “Gym twice a week with Mr. Warren.”
“Gym?” Khloe asked. “Why are you taking that?”
“It’s not required for students who participate in a sport,” Lexa explained.
“I know . . . ,” I said, hesitating to explain. “I wanted to stay extra strong for riding.”
“You’re insane,” Khloe said. “After you’ve climbed the rope for the fiftieth time, you’ll be wondering why you didn’t drop it.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But my next class—life science?— sounds interesting. With Ms. Meade?”
“We’re in the same class,” Lexa said. “But I’m not as interested as you seem.”
I stared at my schedule again. “All I have left is study hall twice a week and my elective—fashion,” I said. “I’d take that class every day if it was offered!”
“Ah, so we have a fashionista among us,” Lexa said, seeming intrigued.
“I had a feeling you were into fashion. I bet you like classical American fashion, maybe? That’s the impression I got from your clothes,” Khloe said.
I stared at her. “That’s only the highest compliment ever. Jackie O. and Audrey Hepburn are my style icons. I’m really into reinventing old looks so that they seem fresh.”
When I’d read that Canterwood offered fashion as an elective, I’d practically screamed. I BlackBerry messaged all of my friends with a dozen !!!!!! s and immediately starred it as a definite course. After I enrolled, I posted an update on Chatter.
LaurBell: Ahhh! I’m taking *fashion* at Canterwood this fall! So excited! I remembered Ana’s reply, smiling.
AnaArtiste: @LaurBell Hmm . . . all this time as your BFF and I had no clue you liked fashion. ;P
“Without question, I know Khloe’s elective is acting,” I said.
Khloe grinned from ear to ear.
“What’s yours?” I asked Lexa. “Website design,” Lexa said. “I’m really big into online artistry. I already promised KK that as soon as I was ready, I’d create her own personal website complete with acting portfolio.”
“I’m excited,” I said. “But it definitely sounds like we’re all going to be busy.”
“Definitely.” Khloe folded her schedule. “Oh—plus glee club.”
“As if,” I said. “Not that I’ll even make it. I’m just excited to audition.”
“I’ve watched the glee club perform before games and school events,” Lexa said. “Everyone always looks like they’re having so much fun—and they do super contemporary stuff, which is cool.” She peered at my schedule again. “Now that I’m looking at it on paper, your schedule is really full. A ton of advanced classes, plus riding and glee club.”
I scanned my paper. “Maybe glee club. But I don’t seem to have more than you or Khloe. Plus, riding and glee and fashion are all things I live for.” My smile sunk a little. “You think it’s too much?”
“I think Lexa just meant you’re taking those AP classes, so it might mean more homework,” Khloe said. “It’s your first year, is all. We just want you to be careful to ease into things so you don’t overextend yourself.”
“I won’t,” I promised. Lexa and Khloe still seemed concerned, but they’d see—I’d just have to prove that I could handle the courses.
We spent a few more minutes chatting about classes before it was dinner time. Khloe and Lexa waited in the hallway while I put away my tea and two mugs.
As we walked, I checked my phone—two BBMs.
Taylor: How’s it going, Canterwood girl?
Brielle: Laur! How’s everything?! I need deets!
I knew exactly who I was three-way conference calling when I got back from dinner. Smiling, I followed Khloe and Lexa to the dining hall—to my first official dinner as a student at Canterwood. Looking from my new roommate to my new friend (I hoped), I wondered how long it had taken them to feel like real Canterwood students.
WHISPER, WE’RE NOT AT BRIAR CREEK ANYMORE
IN THE SUNDAY MORNING DARKNESS, I SLIPPED out of bed and grabbed the clothes I’d laid out the night before.
It was barely dawn and I was on my way to the stable to visit Whisper.
I loved getting up with the sun. I was definitely a morning person. I tiptoed to the bathroom, dressed in breeches, a lilac and white striped V-neck T-shirt and paddock boots. Being a morning person in a houseful of night owls had taught me the invaluable skill of moving around without making one sound. In the bathroom, I brushed my hair, putting it into a loose, faux-messy bun. I washed my face and applied tinted sunscreen and ran through the rest of my routine, thinking about last night’s dinner with Khloe and Lexa.
I saw that Clare—Khloe’s other friend—sat alone across the cafeteria until Khloe’s arch-nemesis, Riley, walked over to her with a few other girls I didn’t know.
Khloe waved at Clare, but the two definitely stayed separated at all times in the cafeteria. It felt as if Riley had drawn an invisible line between Khloe and Clare.
Once I was all ready to go, I left a gently snoring Khloe in our room and walked down Hawthorne’s hallway. Even our dorm monitor, Christina, wasn’t up yet. Every single dorm room door was closed. Silent. No TV, no laughter, no ringing phones. Not even a whisper was audible.
I pushed open the door and walked down the sidewalk. The fiery sun rose over one of the pastures and horses’ backs began to be illuminated in the light. Like a shadow was being lifted from the campus.
I passed the gym, then the pool, and started past the tennis courts. Two older girls, engaged in a fierce tennis match, were red-faced as they darted back and forth across the court—slamming the ball over the net.
The old-fashioned streetlamps made the campus look très parfait. Like a framed painting. The lamps turned off as soon as the sunlight hit them.
My pace quickened as I walked down the sidewalk, passing through the courtyard and nearing the stable.
I couldn’t wait to see Whisper.
I hoped her first night on campus had been as good as mine.
The stable’s sliding white doors were open. So . . . I wasn’t the only one here early. Several students were around. Some mucked out stalls, cleaned tack, organized tack trunks or even bathed horses in the wash stalls.
This isn’t Briar Creek, I reminded myself.
If I’d gone to my old stable this early, I would have been the only student there for several hours. This many riders here before six on a Sunday morning told me one thing:I have to be on. There were too
many great, dedicated riders here for me to slack even for one second. I would have to be at the stable as much as possible and put everything I had into riding.
Tomorrow was my test ride from which Mr. Conner would place me in the beginner or intermediate team. Over the summer, all the new seventh-grade riders got an e-mail from Mr. Conner, explaining how the testing system worked. Apparently, it had changed from last year.
Incoming seventh graders would test for the beginner or intermediate team. Returning students already on the beginner or intermediate team would test the following week so long as they’d been on the same team for a full school year.
Last year, a couple of talented sixth graders, including Khloe, had tested into the advanced team, where they would start this year. The intermediate pool would be bigger this year—with room for up to six students. I wondered how many of those six slots were actually occupied.
I headed for Whisper’s stall near the end of the aisle. I spotted someone familiar next to Whisper’s stall—a petite girl with curly dark hair pinned back with glittery purple barrettes. Oooh, the barrettes! J’adore!
Lexa took a halter and lead line out of her tack trunk. She looked up when I stopped at Whisper’s gleaming wooden tack trunk.
“Hey, neighbor,” Lexa said.
“Oh, cool,” I said. “This is perfect.”
I felt so guilty last night after all the time I’d spent with Khloe and Lex. I hated not being truthful with two incredibly nice people who honestly wanted to be friends. Still, every time I thought about telling the truth about my riding background, my . . . accident, I’d stopped.
No. Canterwood was my fresh start. And if that meant leaving out some details about my career as a competitive rider, who would really even care?
“Come meet Honor,” Lexa said.
A strawberry roan with a blaze stuck her head over the door and nudged Lexa’s shoulder. Lexa laughed and stroked the horse’s muzzle.
“I guess she wants to introduce herself,” Lexa said, laughing. “This is Honor. She’s just a little outgoing.”
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