Rory Antonini, a talented midfielder with the best scoring percentage in the league, pulled back the curtain that separated the room. “Hey, Bendix,” the girls chorused.
Bendix Chase was the most popular boy in their class. It wasn’t hard to figure out why: at six feet three, he looked a bit like a young blond giant, with his broad shoulders and powerful build. His face resembled that of a Greek god’s: with a fine brow, a perfect nose, and cut-glass cheekbones. He had a dimple on each cheek, and his clear, cornflower-blue eyes twinkled with fun. He was lying on a hospital bed with his right leg in a cast. He waved cheerfully.
“When are you getting out?” asked Darcy Sedrik, their goaltender, as she handed him the almost empty plate of cookies.
“Today. Cast is finally coming off. Thank god—I’m tired of hopping to class,” Bendix said, nodding his gratitude for the cookie. “What happened to you?” he asked Allegra.
“Merely a flesh wound,” she said, pointing to her gauze turban and affecting a British accent.
“At least you still have your arms,” Bendix mused with a smile at the Monty Python quote.
Allegra tried not to seem overly charmed that he had picked up the reference so quickly.
She didn’t want to appear as just another of his googly-eyed fan club, as the entire field hockey team had now migrated over to his side of the room to sign his cast with heart-shaped dots over their i’s and innumerable X’s and O’s.
“Visiting hours are over, I’m afraid,” Mrs. Anderson declared, reappearing in her starched white uniform. There was another chorus of “Aww” as she shooed the girls out. She was about to close the curtain that separated her two patients when Bendix asked if they could keep it open.
“I hope you don’t mind. It gets a bit claustrophobic. And your side has the TV,” he said.
“Sure.” Allegra shrugged. She and Bendix knew each other, of course, as Stuart Endicott Academy, like the Duchesne School, was a small and tight-knit community of the breathtakingly advantaged children of the elite. However, unlike the rest of the female population, she did not swoon in his presence. She found his all-American good looks a bit too obvious, too Hollywood movie star, too universally admired. Bendix looked like the jock from The Breakfast Club, except even more handsome. And Bendix wasn’t just good looking and athletic and adored, he was also, shockingly, for a boy of his privilege and status—kind. Allegra noticed that far from being an arrogant snob who stalked the halls with his massive ego, Bendix was genuinely nice to everyone, even her brother Charles, which was saying something.
Still, even if the most gorgeous boy at Endicott was sitting mere feet away, watching music videos with her (why on earth was Eddie Murphy singing? And what was up with that striped shirt he was wearing?), Allegra paid him no more thought.
TWO
The Van Alen Twins
When Dr. Perry arrived from New York, he pronounced Allegra well as ever, and she was back in her dormitory the next day. She was running between classes when she saw her brother walking purposefully across the quadrangle toward her.
“I came as soon as I heard,” Charles Van Alen said, taking her elbow gently. “Who did it? Are you sure you’re all right? Cordelia is beside herself….”
Allegra rolled her eyes. Her twin brother was such a dork sometimes. Not only because he insisted on calling their mother by her first name, but also because of his whole big-protector act. Especially since she was taller than him by two inches. “I’m fine, Charlie, really.” She knew he hated being called by his childhood nickname, but she couldn’t help it. He was the last person she wanted to see right then.
Unlike Allegra, Charles Van Alen was short for his age. The twins could not have looked less alike, as he had dark hair and cold gray eyes. Unlike his casually dressed peers, Charles wore an ascot to class and carried a leather briefcase. He wasn’t very popular at Endicott, not because of his pretensions (although they were many) but mainly because he complained about the school constantly and let everyone know he wouldn’t be there if his sister hadn’t insisted they transfer. Most of the students thought he was an annoying, pompous windbag, and in return he acted as though they were all beneath him.