She paused to glance at the map on her phone, then up at the grass-filled quad ahead. On the far side was an ivy-covered stone building with a WELCOME, NEW STUDENTS banner hanging from the second-floor bay windows. Almost there, she told herself as she trudged forward, ignoring the pain in her shoulders. But as her eyes fell on the crowd of students and parents, Vivi’s stomach twisted slightly. She was hardly a stranger to new situations. Having attended four elementary schools, two middle schools, and three high schools, Vivi had been the new girl for most of her life.
But now everything was different. Vivi was going to be at Westerly for four whole years, longer than she’d ever stayed anywhere before. She wouldn’t automatically be the strange new girl. She could be anyone she wanted.
She just needed to figure out exactly who that was.
Vivi dragged her bags up to the folding table where volunteers were handing out orientation packets. “Welcome!” a white girl with long, straight red hair chirped as Vivi approached. “What’s your last name?”
“Devereaux,” Vivi said, taking in the girl’s crisp pink blouse and expertly applied eyeliner. Normally, this kind of elegance struck Vivi as a rare gift, something to be admired but not necessarily envied, like the ability to touch your nose with your tongue or walk on your hands. But a glance around the quad quickly established this level of grooming as the norm. Vivi had never seen so many manicured hands or pastel shirts in her entire life, and for the first time, she began to wonder if perhaps her mother was right about this place. Maybe this wasn’t the right school for Vivi after all.
“Devereaux,” the red-haired girl repeated, flipping through the thick packet in front of her. “You’re in Simmons Hall, room three-oh-five. Simmons is this building right here. Here’s your orientation folder . . . and your ID card. It’s also your key, so don’t lose it.”
“Thanks.” Vivi reached out to take the folder. But the girl didn’t let go. She was frozen in place, staring over Vivi’s shoulder.
When Vivi glanced around, she realized everyone was looking in the same direction. The air in the courtyard shifted subtly, like the prickle of electricity before a storm.
Vivi turned and followed everyone’s gaze. Three girls were crossing the velvety green lawn at the heart of the quad. Even from a distance, it was clear that they weren’t newly arrived freshmen. It was partly their clothes; the black girl in the middle wore a mint-green sundress with a flared skirt that swirled around her long, ballerina-esque legs, and her friends—both of them white and blond—wore nearly matching tweed skirts and the type of cream-colored silk tops that, until now, Vivi had seen only on rich women in movies. But even if they’d been in ratty sweatpants, the girls would’ve caught her eye. They moved with languorous assurance, as if confident in their right to go wherever they wanted at whatever speed they chose. As though they weren’t afraid of taking up space in the world. For someone like Vivi, who’d spent most of her life trying to blend in, there was something intoxicating about seeing girls so clearly at ease with standing out.
She watched the trio approach a red-brick building with a crowd of students waiting to get in. The moment the girls reached the building, the crowd parted; every person stood aside without protest to let the girls in.
“Those are Kappas,” the redhead said, reading the question in Vivi’s interested gaze. “One of the sororities on campus. Everyone calls them the Ravens. I don’t know why. Maybe because they’re so mysterious and secretive.”
“Sorry,” Vivi said, blushing, embarrassed to be caught staring.
“It’s okay. They have that effect on everyone. If you want to see them in action, go to their recruitment party tonight. They’ll be in rare form, scouting for potential new members.” She shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant even though her eyes shone with obvious desire. “You should check it out, if only to see their sorority house. It’s the only time all year they let non-Kappas inside, and that place is pretty spectacular.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Vivi said, secretly thrilled that someone thought she was the type of girl who could “check out” a party. No one at any of her three high schools had ever invited her to a party. She wasn’t sure the Kappas’ rush event was the right way to get her feet wet, but who knew? Maybe college-Vivi would be up to the challenge.
“All right, then. Welcome to Westerly!”
Vivi took a deep breath, calling on her last reserve of strength to haul her suitcases up three stone steps and through the wooden door that had been propped open. She started up the narrow stairs, dragging her suitcases awkwardly behind her. She hoped to make it to the second floor before taking a break, but after a few steps, her arms gave out.
“Shit,” she said under her breath as her bags slid back down the stairs and landed with two heavy thuds.
“Need a hand?”
Vivi turned to see a white boy with dark curly hair standing at the base of the stairs, looking up at her with an amused grin.
She wanted to tell him she had it under control, but then she realized how ridiculous that would sound, given that he was currently looking at the suitcases she had just dropped. “Thanks, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind. And even if I did, I’d do it anyway.” He had a faint Southern accent that elongated his syllables. He lifted both suitcases at the same time and bounded up the stairs, brushing past Vivi.
“I guess the Southern-manners thing is real,” Vivi said, then cringed, immediately regretting her cheesy, awkward words.
“Oh, this isn’t about manners,” the boy replied, slightly breathless. “It’s a public-safety issue. You could’ve killed someone back there.”
Vivi felt her cheeks turn red. “Here, let me take one of those,” she said as she ran to catch up.
They reached the second floor, but the boy didn’t set the suitcases down. “No can do,” he said cheerfully. “My love of chivalry and public safety makes it physically impossible for me to set these bags down until they’re out of the danger zone. What’s your room number?”
“Three-oh-five. But you really don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine the rest of the way.”
“Don’t give it a second thought,” the boy called back. Vivi followed him as her stomach fluttered with a mixture of guilt and excitement. No boy had ever carried her stuff for her before.
When they reached the third floor, the boy turned right and, with a groan, set her suitcases down in front of a door. “Here you go. Room three-oh-five.”
“Thank you,” Vivi said, feeling even more awkward. Was she supposed to ask him his name? His major? How did normal people make friends?
“My pleasure.” He grinned, and for a moment, Vivi couldn’t focus on anything except the dimple that had just appeared in his left cheek. But before she could think of anything else to say, he turned and started back down the hall. “Try not to kill anyone!” he said over his shoulder, and then disappeared down the stairs.
“I make no guarantees.” She tried to sound playful and sexy, but there was no point. He was already gone.
Vivi opened the door to the room, steeling herself to meet her roommate, but the room was empty. Just two extra-long twin beds, two nicked-up wooden desks, and a full-length mirror on the back of a closet. As far as dorm rooms went, it was nice—spacious, light, and airy. The exact opposite of the cramped, stifling apartment in Reno.