Page 22 of Switching Graves

“I was nervous on my first day, too. It’s a lot, especially with the weight of measuring up to my parents when they were here.But give it a few days, and it’ll be like a second home,” she carries on, and I want to kick myself for already garnering pity from the first person I’ve interacted with here.

Or rather, a first home, considering I have no other home, I reply glumly in my mind.

If I mess this up, I’ll lose everything. And still, it feels like nearly every fiber of my being is revolting against the fact that I’m here.

With a tight smile, I duck my head so she can’t read my terrified expression. Forget the weight of my mother or aunt . . . I’ve got the weight of my entire future—along with Poppy’s—hanging on my shoulders. I can’t bail now.

The group turns into the admissions office and is greeted by a plump woman waiting with a large, professional-looking camera. We spend the next hour taking ID photos as they ramble off random things to us. Curfew is 10 p.m. on weeknights, 11 p.m. on weekends; the Landry library is off limits to freshmen; students are not permitted to enter the woods or the beach outside of the specified times. That last one would be hard to enforce, considering the forest butts up to the entire back end of the university.

Once the hour passes and they’re finished throwing information at us, emphasizing several times to schedule an appointment with our counselors before classes start, we’re sent back on our way with our guides to tour the campus and find our dorms.

Vanessa engages in small talk with the rest of the group, occasionally stopping for her and the other guides to show us where to go for books or the route to the cafeteria. I mostly keep to myself, too afraid to say something that might give away who I am.

It’s ridiculous, honestly. Not a single person here knows me or Poppy—not enough to examine me under a microscope andpick apart my responses versus what my cousin’s would be. I can come up with an entirely new identity here, and no one would have a clue.

But the pressure to put on a good show has me choking up. It weighs so heavy on my chest, I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to pull it together quickly.

“That’s weird,” Vanessa says into my information packet as we approach a tall, gray building that has clearly been modeled after the Landry castle. She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and stares down at the paper in her hands with a scowl.

“What?” I ask, glancing back toward our group.

Once a few of them realize Vanessa has stopped, they turn back and ask her what’s wrong.

“Most first-years are placed in the same building, regardless of their class, but she’s been put into Devlin.”

Everyone’s attention swings in my direction, eyes wide as if they’re just now actuallylookingat me.

“What’s your last name again?” one of them asks, craning his neck to read it on the paper Vanessa is holding.

At the same time, a tall brunette says, “that must be a mistake.”

“It’s right here, clear as day. You’ve got a passcode and everything,” Vanessa says, puzzled.

“What is so special about Devlin?” I rasp, wanting to melt into a puddle on the ground and disappear beneath all their curious stares.

“They’re the nicest dorms we have. Usually only assigned to seniors,” the brunette explains.

“Even then, you aren’t getting in unless you’re one of the highest bloodlines,” the other guy scoffs, pursing his lips.

Forget turning into a puddle. I want to evaporate and disappear altogether.

And . . . Bloodlines?

Of course, Aunt Divina would use her own Carmichael self-importance to pull all the stops and ensure everyone knows just how special Poppy is. To create a spectacle before she even arrives. This is the exact reason Poppy refused to come to Ravenshurst in the first place. It’s another excuse for her mother to flaunt her family’s wealth and reputation in front of everyone.

Vanessa is the first to recover, clearing her throat before pointing in the opposite direction we came from. “It’s just across campus. I’ll walk you over.”

“Are you sure we can’t speak to someone in the admissions office to clear this up? There’s obviously been a mistake . . . ” I try, glancing back toward the impatient group of peers who are already sizing me up as their new social threat.

“They don’t make mistakes, especially with something like this. Trust me, you’ll love Devlin. I’m on the waitlist for next year.”

I bite my lip, resisting the urge to insist again that we turn back around and triple check. Everyone makes mistakes. Even if Aunt Divina pulled her strings to get me into those dorms, surely I can request to be put with the rest of my class.

But before I can find it in me to smooth things over or make a joke out of it, the way Poppy would, Vanessa hooks her elbow through mine and guides us away from the rest of the first-years. Instead, we retreat in the opposite direction with daggers being thrown at our backs and I’m left with an endless pit in my stomach that grows with every minute I spend here.

“I’m actually really glad you’re placed here. I’ve never seen one of the dorms in person. You usually can’t get in unless you’re invited by one of the residents, but they all stick to themselves or are too busy in their senior studies to bother.”

This sounds exactly like the type of place Divina would have Poppy live.

---