The thought of her roommates made Aubrey’s stomach sink. At the beginning of the summer, the Housing Office sent her their names, addresses, and pictures, and invited her to get in touch. The purpose seemed to be to encourage cooperation about setting up the room—who’d bring the mini-fridge, who’d bring the speakers, that sort of thing. Aubrey had nothing more to contribute than the clothes on her back, but she wrote anyway, because she longed to know these girls immediately. From the pictures and the limited biographical information provided in the mailing, Aubrey had spent hours daydreaming about them already. The blonde with the perfect turned-up little nose, who lived on Park Avenue and went to a fancy private boarding school, was a debutante, Aubrey imagined, who owned a horse and played tennis. The brunette with the glasses and gold-cross necklace was quiet, studious, and religious. But maybe she was wrong, and anyway, she was dying to know more, so she wrote two long, chatty letters asking each roommate all about herself—about her family, her high school, her likes and dislikes, what she planned to study, anything Aubrey could think of, really. She’d mailed the letters two months ago now, and checked the mail every day for their replies. She’d never heard back, not a word.
Aubrey had been so focused for so long on getting into Carlisle, then on the financial aid, the plane ticket, and making money to help her mother get her bills straightened out before she left, that she hadn’t thought much about how life would be once she got here. Whenever she did, the debacle of the roommate letters loomed, and made her feel sick to her stomach. It was surely her own fault that they never replied. Aubrey wasn’t good at friendship. Back home, she’d been in the advanced placement classes, studying constantly whenever she wasn’t working at whatever part-time job she could find. She didn’t think of herself as ambitious, just as somebody who really needed to get out. Her mother worked back-to-back shifts as a waitress, her father was out of the picture, her older sister slept where she wanted to and didn’t come home for days at a time. Aubrey became a reader early so she wouldn’t feel alone in her apartment at night. Books kept her company and became her friends; they were more welcoming than people, and less threatening. In her school, there were kids who wouldn’t come near her because her family was so-called white trash, and other kids who would give her the time of day but were into drugs, and sex and partying, and would only drag her down. Then there were the nerds like her, who would rather study than hang out. The end result was no friends, and no social life. She didn’t regret it. Look at the results. Here she was, eighteen years old, on the brink of realizing her dreams. But she didn’t have a clue how to be a cool girl. No wonder the roommates hadn’t written back.
All that was about to change. Her real life was starting. Whatever she’d done wrong before, she’d fix. If she’d been shy, she’d become the life of the party. If she’d been a nerd, she’d be the It Girl now. If she was skinny and gawky, she’d become thin like a model. No transformation was beyond her, not at this place. She’d make her roommates love her, no matter what it took.
The woman behind the desk handed her a packet.
“Key’s inside, hon, suite 402,” she said.
Aubrey thanked her and hauled her duffel bag out to the hall and up four flights of stairs. She stood outside the door to 402 for a minute, catching her breath and gathering her courage. As she rummaged in the envelope for her key, the door flew open, and a middle-aged woman rushed out, chattering in Spanish as she looked back over her shoulder.
“Ma, watch where you’re going!” said a dark-haired girl, grabbing the woman’s sleeve to stop her from plowing into Aubrey. “And speak English.”
It was the roommate with the glasses, except she didn’t have glasses anymore. Her pretty dark eyes and confident smile came as a surprise. She was intensely well groomed—perfect hair and makeup, cute capri pants and a starched white shirt—which immediately made Aubrey self-conscious about her crumpled traveling clothes and stringy hair.
“Jennifer?” Aubrey asked.
“It’s Jenny, Jenny Vega. My mother was just leaving,” she said.
The mother swept Aubrey into a bosomy embrace.
“M’ija, cómo estás? So happy to meet you. You come for supper Sunday, okay? I’m gonna make pasteles.”
“She doesn’t want to come for supper, Ma.”
Aubrey actually did want to—the hug had brought tears to her eyes, which she blinked back as she untangled herself—but she suspected it would be better for her future relationship with the cool and uber-well-groomed Jenny not to say so.
“Why you so mean?” Mrs. Vega said to her daughter.
“I’m not mean. It’s time for you to go, that’s all. See you Sunday. Love you.” Jenny kissed her mother dismissively and gave her a little shove.
Mrs. Vega marched away, grumbling, and Jenny held the door open for Aubrey.
“I’m Aubrey, by the way.”
“I figured. No parents? Lucky you,” Jenny said, looking up and down at the hall.
“I came all the way from Nevada, so—”
“Oh, right. You said that in the letter.”
“You got my letter? Why didn’t you—?”
“I just got it a week ago. I was away all summer at this outdoor leadership camp thing in the Adirondacks.”
“Wow. Cool.”
“It was pretty lame actually. Looks good on the résumé though. C’mon in, I’ll give you the tour. You’re the last to show up, so you get the dregs, I’m afraid, but still, it’s nice. For a dorm room, anyway.”
Aubrey picked up her duffel and stepped into an adorable living room. The suite was on the top floor, under the eaves, with hardwood floors and quaint dormered windows. She spun around, wide-eyed, taking it in.
“Cute, right? The sofa smells though,” Jenny said, wrinkling her nose. Jenny herself smelled of some fresh, springlike perfume. “I can probably get us something better from my parents’ store. I’m a townie, if you haven’t figured that out by now.”
“A—townie?”
“You know, town and gown? I grew up right here in good old Belle River, New Hampshire, which would be the armpit of the universe if not for Carlisle. Born in the shadow of the college, as they say. But my parents aren’t connected to the college, far from it. They own the hardware store in town.”
“That’s awesome. I’m jealous.”
“Jealous of growing up here? Hah, don’t be. The college looks down on the townies, you know. Carlisle is a head trip. You’ll see. The people—I’m telling you,” Jenny said, rolling her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Kate, for example. She showed up first and grabbed the single, even though the housing letter says to wait and decide together who gets which room. So you and I are stuck sharing the double whether we like it or not. There’s a lot of that around here. You know, people all full of themselves, stepping on each other.”
“Maybe she thought we wouldn’t mind sharing the double.”
“Why wouldn’t we mind? Of course we mind.”
“Well, maybe she didn’t think about it.”
“Yeah, that’s the point.”
“I’m sure if we talked to Kate…”
“Oh, I tried. She just acted all vague and sweet, like she didn’t understand what my problem was. Bullshit. She knew exactly what she was doing. She thinks the rules don’t apply to her, and the fact is, they don’t. She’s Kate Eastman, you know, like Eastman Commons? Like President Eastman?”
“President—who?”
“Her grandfather or something, or maybe great-grandfather, was president of the college. Her father’s a trustee. Their name is on buildings, you catch my drift?”
“She isn’t here now, is she?” Aubrey glanced around in alarm, worried about being overheard, and getting off on the wrong foot with this exalted personage.
“Don’t worry,” Jenny said. “She ran off when I got in her face about the room assignment. But I’ll shut up about that now. You must want to unpack.”
“I don’t mind, really. I’m just excited to finally meet you.”