Page 14 of First Echo

Brooke stared at me for a long moment, like she was trying to solve a complex math problem. I could practically see the wheels turning in her head, trying to figure out my angle. Finally, a flicker of understanding crossed her face, followed quickly by something that looked almost like gratitude—though she tried to hide it beneath a layer of suspicion.

She knew I'd seen her standing alone. She knew I'd stepped in to save her from the embarrassment of being the only person without a roommate. The realization that I'd done something kind for her seemed to both relieve and confuse her.

"Uh, thanks, I guess," she mumbled, adjusting her beanie nervously. "But you really don't have to—"

"It's done," I cut her off, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. The last thing I needed was for her to think I actually cared about her feelings or something.

"Let's just get our key and find our room. I'm dying to change out of these travel clothes."

I turned and headed toward Mr. Sinclair, who was still at the desk with the room assignments. I could feel Brooke following a few steps behind me, her presence like a shadow I couldn't quite shake. I could also feel Victoria's glare burning into my back from across the lobby. She was furious, that much was clear, but I'd deal with her later. For now, I just wanted to settle in and prepare for the afternoon on the slopes.

The clerk handed us a key—an actual metal key, not one of those electronic card things—with a wooden tag attached to it that had our room number carved into it: 217. Very rustic. Very quaint. Very... not what I was used to.

Our room was on the second floor, down a long hallway with thick carpet that muffled our footsteps. The wooden doors were spaced evenly on either side, each with a hand-painted number. When we finally reached 217, I fumbled with the key for a moment before the lock clicked and the door swung open.

The room was... cozy. That's the polite way of saying small. Two full-sized beds with navy blue quilts, a wooden dresser between them, a desk by the window, and a bathroom that I could already tell wasn't going to have enough counter space for all my skincare products. But it was clean, and the view from the window showed the mountain looming large and majestic against the clear blue sky.

"Well," I said, dropping my bag onto the bed closest to the window, "at least we won't have to fight over who gets the better view."

Brooke stood in the doorway for a moment longer, still looking like she couldn't quite believe the turn of events. Then, with a small sigh, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Why did you really do that?" she asked, her voice quiet but direct.

I kept my back to her, unzipping my bag and pretending to search for something. "Do what?" I asked, playing dumb even though I knew exactly what she meant.

"Room with me," she clarified, though her tone suggested she thought I was being deliberately obtuse. "You could have roomed with any of your friends. Why choose me?"

I turned around, composing my face into what I hoped was an expression of casual indifference. "I told you, Victoria snores."

Brooke's eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over her face. "No, she doesn't. I've heard her falling asleep in history class plenty of times. She breathes like a normal person."

I had to bite back a smile at that.Of course Brooke would notice something like that. She was observant, I'd give her that.

"Fine," I said with an exaggerated sigh. "Maybe I just needed a break from my friends. They can be a bit... much sometimes."

It wasn't a complete lie. Victoria's constant need for drama, Audrey's obsession with her appearance, Sophie's eagerness to please—it did get exhausting. But that still wasn't the real reason I'd chosen to room with Brooke.

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her head tilted slightly to one side. Then, apparently deciding it was the best answer she was going to get, she nodded once and moved to the other bed, setting her backpack down carefully.

"Well, thanks, I guess," she said, still sounding slightly confused but perhaps a bit relieved too. "For saving me from the humiliation of being the odd one out."

I felt a strange warmth in my chest at her words, an unfamiliar feeling that I quickly tried to smother. "Don't get used to it," I replied, my tone sharper than I'd intended. "This doesn't make us friends or anything."

She laughed then, a short, genuine sound that seemed to surprise both of us. "Trust me, Madeline, that's the last thing I'm worried about."

Something about the way she said it—not unkindly, but matter-of-factly—made me pause. I was used to people either fawning over me or outright disliking me. Brooke's neutral acceptance, her lack of either adoration or animosity, was unexpected.

Before I could dwell on it too much, there was a sharp knock at the door. I opened it to find Victoria standing there, her arms crossed, her expression stormy.

"We're all heading down to grab lunch before hitting the slopes," she announced, her eyes flicking past me to where Brooke was unpacking her clothes.

"Are you coming, or are you too busy with your new BFF?"

I rolled my eyes at her dramatics. "Give me five minutes to change," I said, already turning back to my suitcase. "I'll meet you downstairs."

Victoria hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, clearly hoping for an invitation to come in and chat, maybe even an explanation for my strange behavior. When none came, she huffed and walked away, her boots thudding heavily on the carpet.

As I pulled out my snow pants and thermal layers, I glanced over at Brooke, who was studiously ignoring the entire exchange, focused on organizing her own gear. She moved with a quiet efficiency, everything neat and purposeful.

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