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Suddenly I was on the beach by the boathouse. It was pitch-black and freezing cold, even colder than before. I stepped into the water, which was so sharp and frigid that it felt like broken glass. Despitethe pain, I kept walking. Before I knew it, I was swimming in the middle of the black sea. I couldn’t see where I was, or how far away the shore was.
Panic wrapped around my heart as I realized I couldn’t find my way to safety. There was a thunderous roar behind me, before a wave curled around me. It was strong, like a million forceful hands pushing me under. Every time I felt air, it would suck me under again and thrash me around like a Raggedy Ann doll.
A memory of those pale eyes I had barely been able to see floated into my suddenly aching head. He was mad, he was shouting. I couldn’t stand to see him like this.
I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried, and got a mouthful of salty water instead. I thought I reached the dry surface and took a breath. Instead I breathed in a rush of water that made my throat ache. My salty tears were mixing with the water around them and my body was contracting oddly as if I couldn’t control it.
“Anyone who has not already, please proceed to the Kenneth L. Montague auditorium for the First Day Assembly.”
I was shaken from my dream very abruptly when a voice I didn’t expect came over a PA system I didn’t know existed.
Why hadn’t my alarm gone off? I inspected it, to find that I’d set it for 6:00 p.m., not a.m.
Without thinking, I threw on some jeans and grabbed my bright yellow staff T-shirt from my last year at the Jax Beach Surf Competition. I flip-flopped out the door thirty seconds later with only my key in hand.
It took me fifteen minutes of running around like a rat in a maze before I found the auditorium. I pulled on each of the doors, but they were all locked. I looked around for anyone, but I was completely alone. Left with no other option, I knocked.
The door opened suddenly, and a youngish man let me in. “Freshman?”
“Oh, no, I’m a senior. But I’m new.”
“Try to be on time from now on.” He was stern but not unkind. He glanced at my clothes. “And at the end of the assembly, please put on your uniform.”
A shock of humiliation ran through me. I looked at the sea of navy-blue, white and khaki uniformed students in the seats. “Sorry, I’m coming from public school, I’ve never had—”
He nodded politely, though a touch dismissively, as I drifted into my annoying habit of overexplaining. I stopped, and he told me there was a seat down in front. To get to it, I’d have to walk—duck—past everyone.
I got there as quietly as possible and ignored the stares I could feel on me. Once seated, I stared straight up at the stage where I was only just noticing that there was a woman speaking.
She was reminding the students of the rules. Mostly everyone had no doubt heard the spiel as many times as I’d read it over the summer. I cringed when she got to the part about wearing uniforms every day to every function but Saturday and Sunday and social events. Weekends were mostly our own. We were allowed out from 9:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. on Saturdays, and from noon till 7:00 p.m. on Sundays. There were shuttles that would go back and forth from town to Manderley.
“… and absolutely no sexual relations of any kind anywhere on school property,” the speaker said, a tad optimistically, and adjusted her papers. There was a snicker in the audience that she must have heard but ignored. “And now I’m inviting Professor Andrews up to the stage. Thank you for your continued attention.” She took a seat at the back of the stage with several other teacher-looking people.
I clapped once, but the rest of the auditorium stayed silent. I shrank in my seat.
Professor Andrews turned out to be the man who’d let me in. He walked to the podium looking a little frazzled.
“Okay, well, I think Eloise, er, Headmaster Jenkins, pardon me, did a pretty good job of welcoming everyone, and reviewing the rules with you, so I won’t be getting into any of that.” He took his glasses from the neck of his shirt and put them on. “I’m sure most of you, at least many of you for whom this is not your first year, have already heard about Rebecca Normandy.”
There was a slight rustling in the audience, but an immediate halt in the whispering.
“In the interest of providing correct information to all of you at once, and keeping the school from crippling rumors, I’ll tell you what we know. Since May fourteenth, Rebecca Normandy has been missing. It’s not clear what happened, only that she was here one moment and gone the next. If anyone hears anything from her, sees her, or is in any kind of contact with Miss Normandy, you must tell someone.”
I listened carefully, and then felt my stomach plummet through my seat.
Rebecca Normandy was Becca, the old roommate. Hers was the “slot that opened up” at Manderley.
“This is a very small school, and I’m sure that everyone here has been affected by the event. Because of that, I hope you all know that Dr. Morgan—” he gestured behind him to one of the seated women who was small and older and looked quite nice “—will have her door open at any time and will be offering counseling. I advise everyone who wants to or needs to, to make an appointment with Dr. Morgan. It can’t hurt. And now, Dana Veers would like to say a few words on behalf of Miss Normandy’s parents.”
He stepped aside, and was quickly replaced by Dana. She peered out at the audience through her narrow eyes.
“So, we all know Becca is missing, but way too many people are just assuming she’s dead. Anyone who can should write to her on Facebook and beg her to come back. Because I am sure she is out there, and probably checking it. If there is any way that she might come home, we have to make her want to. Her parents and the police have pretty much given up hope.” She looked sick. “But I haven’t, and I hope the rest of you haven’t.” She glanced down to the front row.
Then, abruptly, she thanked us for our attention and went back to her seat.
I was horrified at how I’d acted the day before. Dana’s old roommate was missing. They had probably been friends.
Professor Andrews replaced her behind the stand. “Now Dr. Morgan has a few words she’d like to say, and then we’ll release you to go to your first classes. Dr. Morgan?”
The tiny woman shuffled up to take his place, pulling the microphone down to match her height.
“Hello, everyone.” She had a nasally English accent, and reminded me a little of the fairy godmother in Cinderella. “I know this is a very difficult time for each and every one of you, no matter how well you know Miss Normandy, or in what capacity. What you must remember is that you are all in this together. You are all going through something as one, unified group.” She grasped the air and made a fist, as though collecting all of our leashes. “If you need someone to talk to, you could simply look left or right, and find someone who knows what you’re going through.” She smiled tenderly. “Why don’t you do that now? Just look to the person sitting next to you, and tell them you’re here for them. Go ahead.”
There was a small murmur of reluctant participation, and some giggling. I looked to my left and saw the back of a girl’s head, and to my right to see a boy slouching in his seat and leaning his face on his fingers.
I faced forward.
“Good.” Dr. Morgan clasped her hands together. “Now take the hand of the person sitting next to you. Everyone, please?” She looked down at the front row, and with a surge I realized she was looking at me. Or … the boy next to me. “Mr. Holloway? You of all people …” She said the last part away from the microphone, but trailed off when the boy held out his hand for me to take. I put my hand in his.
As soon as we touched, it felt like an electrical current ran through me. I remembered the touch of the boy on the stairs the night before and wondered if this was him. I glanced sideways, not wanting to make it obvious that I was looking at him.
Dr. Morgan went on. “Now shut your eyes. And put yourself in the place that makes you the happiest.” She was silent a few seconds, and shushed the people who laughed. “Wonderful. Now take a deep breath, and think to yourself, I will get through this. I will get through this. I will get through this. Deep breath in … and now out.”
I was afraid my hand was clammy. Was I holding too hard? Did I seem eager?
“Good,” said Dr. Morgan.
At her word, the boy let go of my hand as though it had burned him.
“Remember that everyone around you understands, and that you are absolutely more than welcome to come visit with me. Over the next two weeks, I will be meeting with each one of you. We will discuss your plans for college, and anything else you might need to get off your chest. Thank you all for listening so carefully. Welcome back to Manderley, and if you’re just starting, then welcome to your new home.”
She smiled kindly, and went back to her seat as I and everyone else filled the room with the spattering of polite applause.
I was locked in my own head. There had been one spot at Manderley, and I’d gotten it. I was Rebecca’s old roommate’s new roommate, and the whole school was hoping she would come back at any second.
The boy next to me gave me a nod and then stood to leave.
Everything came together with a horrible lurch in my stomach. He was the one I’d run into on the stairs last night. Not only that, but the reason he was familiar was because he was the one pictured with Becca.
That startlingly handsome boy had been her boyfriend.
chapter 4 becca
ELEVEN O’CLOCK CAME. BECCA HAD ON A SHORT black pencil skirt and a low white tank top.
“I’m so glad you decided to come,” Becca said to Dana, as she sprayed her Givenchy perfume where it mattered: neck, wrists and boobs.
“Me, too.”
“Here, before everyone else drinks it all.” Becca took a swig of tequila and handed the bottle to Dana.
“Oh, no—”
“Oh, come on, please!”
Dana took a deep breath and then took a sip. Becca tipped the bottle a little higher and Dana gave a shriek as it filled her mouth and spilled onto her cheeks.
Becca laughed and handed her roommate some tissues.
They emerged from their room to find that every girl on the hall had put on their best outfit and stood waiting to be led. Madison and Julia were standing with big purses filled with cups and balls slung over their shoulders. Becca had her own bag, filled with all the liquor she had brought with her to Manderley.
“You really think we won’t get caught?” one of the girls asked.
“Oh, God no, we’re not getting caught.” She waved away the very idea. “Come on, stop worrying. You only live once, so live like it’s your last night. Okay? Let’s go.” She smiled at all of them. “Lead the way,” she said to Julia.
They walked down some side stairs and through an emergency exit that apparently didn’t set off any alarms anywhere.
“Where are we going?” Becca heard someone ask from behind her.
“The boathouse,” Julia answered, wielding a blue LED flashlight. “No one’s ever down there at night, and it’s out of view of all the teachers’ rooms. It’s the perfect place. I can’t believe we never did this before.”
They got down to the bottom of the stairs and to a small beach. There was some sand, but mostly a lot of rocks. In all, it looked like what you’d find at the bottom of a cartoon cliff.
Walking up to the boathouse, Julia pushed open a screen door, then a storm door. The light was already on and exposed a small house filled with dust and boating equipment. She wondered if she’d ever have to learn to use any of this stuff. Hopefully not.
“This place is disgusting,” Becca noted, not helping matters.
Some people were already there, sitting around on the floor. One of them, Ricky, she thought his name was, was leaning on the speakers she’d told him to bring. She’d seen them in his room and “pretty-pleased” him into bringing them.
“Here.” She handed him her iPod. “Put this on. It’s the first playlist on there.”
People trickled in for the next fifteen minutes. Becca got the guys to help her put together a makeshift beer pong table. She took the Ziploc bag full of Ping-Pong balls and set them next to the case of beer and bottles she’d managed to stuff into her suitcases. The stolen cups were piled, and her plastic shot glasses set out next to the water bottles she’d had Dana fill with soda for chasers.
Soon the room was filled with laughing, talking, singing and squealing. As everyone got drunker and the room grew warmer, Becca felt more and more like herself. This was who she liked to be. She loved a chaotic atmosphere she could lose herself in. When everyone was drunk, no one was watching her too closely or looking for mistakes. If she said something she shouldn’t, she could blame it on the drinks. Not like in real life, when the world was quiet and everyone could see and hear perfectly.
“Yeah, I’m rooming with some girl named Dana.” Becca was shouting over the music to Ricky.
“Where is she?”
“Right over there,” she pointed. “Don’t you know her?”
“No, I’ve seen her around, but …”
“Dana!” Becca shouted her name across the room. Dana looked up, and then crossed the room to her. Becca took her hand. “This is my roommate!”
“Damn,” said Ricky, looking between them, “you girls are so fucking hot.”
Two other guys walked up. One of them swallowed his drink quickly. “Are you two gonna make out?”
Dana looked shocked.
“What, are you scared?” Becca asked with a laugh.
“What? No, I just—”
Becca looked to the group of guys suddenly surrounding them. “You dare me?”
All of them said yes, nodding.
“But—” Dana started, but was cut off by Becca, who had just planted a kiss on her.
Becca pulled away, laughing. The guys were all laughing and clapping at them.
“Oh, shit, she really did it!” One of the guys threw an arm around Becca. He let go of her and held a hand out to Dana. “I’m Barry.”
Becca slapped his hand. “This is her third year here, the fact that you don’t know her yet means you don’t get to introduce yourself.”
She looked at him playfully, and led Dana away.
“That guy was so annoying, wasn’t he?” she said to Dana. “Barry? He totally tried to hit on me earlier. I’d ignore him.”
It was a lie. But that didn’t matter. It wasn’t Dana’s time to get looked at. Becca was the new girl. Not her.
“Let’s have another drink,” said Becca. She took Dana’s hand and led her to the alcohol table.
When they got there, a tall boy was already pouring two shots.
“Make it four.” Becca sidled up to him and saw that he was not just tall, but attractive, too. Blond, light brown eyes—and a good smile. He looked like he’d play baseball and was always nice to his mom.
“You the new girl?” he asked, and then turned to Dana. “Hey, what’s up, Dana?”
“Yes,” Becca answered quickly, before Dana could say anything. “I am the new girl. I’m glad you know Dana, no one else seems to. What’s your name?”
“Johnny.” He smiled and looked down at the shots he was now pouring for them. “Of course I know Dana. She’s that girl that sat next to me in Algebra last year.” He mouthed hot at Becca, and then smiled at Dana.
Becca was about to say something about how little anyone else seemed interested in Dana when another boy walked up. He was about the same height as Johnny, but an utter contrast. His skin was tan, like he’d spent the summer working outside and maybe had some Italian or something in him. His hair was black and a little messy, and his eyes were light blue. There was something in them that intrigued her. He looked … she tried to think of the word to describe him, and landed on sly.
“Hey.” He nodded curtly at her, then turned his last words to Johnny. “Pour me one.”
Immediately intrigued by this person who ignored her, she said, “I’m Becca.”
“Here, Max.” Johnny handed him a shot. They all clinked their glasses together, swallowed the burning liquid and then pounded back chasers.
“Becca,” Max said, finally acknowledging her. “Hey.”
“So, where’d you move here from?” asked Johnny, leaning back on the table.
“Chicago.” Becca cast a side-glance at Max, who was now in conversation with Dana about how awful some teacher had been.
