Page 6 of All Saints: Pledge

I wave my fob and my door lock clicks. “Thanks for the company tonight. I’ll see you guys tomorrow?” I put every ounce into sounding normal.

“Night,” Dominic says as he turns away and heads back up the alleyway. Then he pauses. “And oy, Helena? I hope you’re the one that stays.”

“Thanks, Dominic.” I’mgladthat other girl left so that I have the distinct honor of living next to that exemplary specimen of a British man.

My room is just as chilly as outside, as I push through the door. I must have screwed up the thermostat. It’s not surprising, because reading centigrade isn’t automatic for me. I probably set it to 20 Farenheit without knowing.

But what stops me isn’t the open window—the window IknowI closed earlier—rather, it’s the card sitting on my desk. It wasn’t there earlier either.

I pick up the thick black card stock. There’s a silver gilt border, and one line of text in the middle of it. I flip it over, blank on the other side. “Eight o’clock. King’s Corner.”

That’s all it says.

I turn the card back over and hold it to the light. Faintly, I can see a pattern as if the shine of the luxurious linen has been rubbed away slightly. I recognize the Greek. Alpha Epsilon Gamma. It’s the foundation for my scholarship.

I close my eyes and tuck the card into my bag before heading back out to my orientation. I have no idea where King’s Corner is. Is it intentionally vague? Secretive? Everything that fits with the picture Li painted for me at dinner. Nerves roil in my stomach because there’s only one way to find out what’s going on and why. Let the games commence.

3

Eight o’clock comes with no further insight into my dilemma. In fact, my confusion has only increased because Orientation is in King’s Corner Lecture Hall. Orientation for Univ—that’s what the locals call University College—is all basics. The building where we live and study is called a college, similar to a dorm. The University of Oxford is composed of thirty colleges within the town. Formal dinners on Sunday. I have a University College Latin prayer I’m to memorize that we say in unison before the meal. Expectations for dress—the robes are decidedly less Harry Potter and more American Graduation cap-and-gown. What libraries I can access. What parts of the campus are off limits to undergrads. No mention about ASC, or why I got a special card to invite me to Orientation. No one at my little table received a formal invite—I asked.

The lights come up for the reception, which consists of cheap drinks in small plastic cups and hors d’oeuvres served by students in suits. Once again, I reach in my pocket and find the card. I can’t stop fiddling with it. Forty of us fill this room, spread out as people move away from the lecture space and intothe stone hallway to enjoy mingling in fresher air. These stone rooms are gorgeous butstuffy, my God. No one enters for a second presentation, the lecture space looks abandoned.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand, a feeling of being watched coming over me. I turn slowly, perusing the room until I’m facing the culprit. Kendall. Leaning in the doorway of the room. His gaze is a brand—he isnothappy to find me here. As if his little threat would keep me from my dream? Ha. I got into Oxford without the aid of a parent working here. The world has finally deemed me equal. Enough. I do not have to play it safe and quiet, or wait until later to finally be myself. It’s now. It’s here. And I’m not going to let Kendall ruin yet another four years of my life. Enough is enough. I have a moment of smugness and I give a little wave. I might twiddle my middle finger just alittletoo long.

He doesn’t return the wave. His face turns thunderous. He stalks forward, repeating his new trick now that he’s done ignoring my existence. I have a flashback to the one time I tried to say hi to him at school, about a week after the closet incident. He’d stared at me as I approached this table, then stood and walked past me after I said hello. I’d run for the bathroom that time, everyone laughing at me. I’d never felt so second class before, so clearly not worthy of someone. And so now that I’ve decided we’re equals? He doesn’t get to use his arrogance to wound me again. I stand my ground. Irelishhis approach. I cannot wait to take the crackle of his energy and turn it back toward him. I’m not that timid girl in high school anymore.

And then he does something odd. He looks over my shoulder and screeches to a halt. His eyes shift from my face to behind me, then he disappears just as suddenly as he came. He’s gone. Lost in the milling crowd and suited servers and mingling Freshmen.

I pivot, looking for a hooded figure with a scythe or something equally macabre. Nothing. In fact, it’s mundane.People sitting at tables. Pretty girls in slacks, and one in a nice black dress with long blond hair.

Wait. I know that long blond hair. The ski-jump nose.

Surely not.

“What the actual fuck is happening in my life right now?” I whisper to myself. The girl sitting and chatting with a tall gangly professor? None other than Kendall’s high school girlfriend, Clara Gorton. I can’t help but drift that direction, pulled by equal parts horror and fascination.

“Clara?” I ask, hoping the girl doesn’t turn around in response. But turn around she does, eyebrows arched in surprise.

The surprise ratchets up as recognition washes over her. She gapes, mouth opening and closing before she finally speaks. “Helen! Wow, fancy meeting you here!” She doesn’t even pretend to add a “good to see you”, and I can appreciate her candor.

“Helena,” I correct her, “and yeah. I’m shocked to see you too.”

Not only am I surprised at how many of my high school classmates from a tiny town are now attending Oxford University, but I’m confused at Kendall’s reaction to seeing his girlfriend.

Clara smiles politely and then just like every day in high school, she looks past me. At everything but me. I’ve never been important enough to even warrant much interest. Not even in a rude way, which almost makes her apathy more hurtful. Clearly searching the crowd for someone, she smooths her hair and fidgets with her napkin as she cranes her neck around me. I’m an inconvenience to her.

“Kendall is in the hallway if you’re looking for him.”

Her smile brightens and then dims. “Oh, okay thanks. So he’s here? You talked to him?”

I snort because I can’t help it. “He glared at me, if that counts?”

Clara’s laugh is genuine. “Yeah, that sounds about right. I never knew why he hated youso much.” She says it like we’re discussing the weather.

The guy at the table coughs, and an awkward silence descends.

I roll my eyes at her tactlessness. “Yeah, I never knew either. Lovely that I get to deal with more of it.” If I’m going to have to share Oxford—and University College—with Clara, I might as well be honest. She shrugs and nods like she understands so I surprise both of us by sliding into the seat next to her. I lean around her shoulder and wave at the boy sitting at the table. He looks perturbed I interrupted him talking with Clara but waves back.

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