Page 18 of Good Girls Lie
When I turn from the window, I realize my roommate isn’t in her bed.
At the thought of Camille, I fall back into my bunk with a groan. The girl is just so...shallow. She’s probably book-smart—how else would she have gotten into Goode?—but has already shown she has the common sense of a gnat.
I lie on the bed, stare at the slab of wood above me, rubbing my temples for comfort. Tomorrow is the first day of classes, I’ve almost killed a teacher, my roommate is a jerk, and I’m wicked tired. I took some melatonin to help me sleep—I read it was good for jet lag—but all it’s done is give me a splitting headache.
The singing and stomping grow louder. Should I go to the door and look out to see what’s happening? Tempting. But no.Again, stay off the radar, Ash.
They are on the hall now, which means everyone is being disturbed. Earlier, I wondered aloud about the split floors and why they aren’t inverted, with freshman having to hike the three stories and seniors only one, but Camille made it very clear the attic rooms are incredible, with sloped ceilings and big windows with clear views of the Blue Ridge Mountains all around the campus. They are the most special. Sought after.
The seniors have their own staircase, too. I was warned three times today to never, ever, go anywhere near the seniors’ curlicue staircase. “Underclassmen who go up to the attics uninvited will never graduate,” Vanessa said, eyes wide and serious.
I rolled my eyes at yet another ridiculous infraction rule to be obeyed. I am the least superstitious girl on the planet, but fine with me. Like I told my suitemates, I’m here at Goode to study my ass off and get into Harvard. If I excel and fit in, I will have an easy path to Boston.
It has been drummed into me all day—a diploma from Goode guarantees you placement wherever you want to go. Women from The Goode School hold the highest positions in every industry, from politics to business, law to medicine. Some are published authors, some are tenured professors. There are research scientists and a cadre of CEOs. Goode is the foundation upon which all things are built.
The singing stops abruptly. The silence is deep, as can only be found isolated away in the mountains.
I begin to drift, then start awake to the sound of whispers. I strain but can’t make out the words, only the gentle susurrus of girls’ voices. A giggle.
Then, “Ash.”
It’s quiet, almost inaudible, but it is definitely my name. I sit up so quickly I smack my head on the bottom of Camille’s bed.
“Ow. Bloody hell.”
The whispers stop.
It must be Camille and Vanessa and Piper in the hall, talking about me.The new girl poisoned the piano teacher. Watch out, she’ll come for you next.
I slide out of bed and make my way in the dark to the door. I fling it open, step into the hall.
It is empty.
I move next door and put my ear to the wood. The doors are thick, but I can hear the barest hint of gentle, wheezy girl snores. Either they’re pretending to be asleep, or I’m hearing things.
You’re exhausted. You’ve been on guard all day. You’re jet-lagged and stressed, in a new environment, and you’re being silly. Go back to bed.
A door is ajar at the end of the hall. There is a flickering light inside.
Just a glance. One quick little look.
“Ash?”
I jump, my heart taking off at a gallop, whirl around to see Camille, her face red, eyes puffy.
“What are you doing in the hall...?”Standing in front of their door?she might as well add, though she trails off, watching me inquisitively.
“I thought I heard my name. Someone was outside the door whispering. Are you all right? You look like you’ve been crying.”
Camille gives a big sniff and gestures toward our room. I let her go in first, stop at the door. Turn my head toward the open doorway only to see nothing but deep, velvety darkness where the light once shone.
Inside our dark room, Camille climbs into her bunk. She lies there, sniffing.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask.
“It’s nothing. Go to sleep.”
“If you want to talk—”
