Chapter 3
Dear pal!
I feel awkward about introducing myself without giving my name. I’m 22, and I have a pre-law bachelor. I’ve lived in New Mexico my entire life. I’m so excited about coming to Thorn Falls. My mother was against my leaving the state, but after getting accepted to Rothford, what could she say?
I’m secretly pretty glad about being assigned a pen pal who knows Rothford, actually? I don’t know anyone here. It’s nice to be in contact with someone who knows what’s what, even if it’s anonymous. Though the reason is fucked up.
Stay Safe
Three months ago, at the end of the last term, some freshman kid killed himself at a college party, but not before dispatching seven other students with him. From what I understand, he was rushing for one of the “houses” in Rothford—they don’t call them frats here, but it seems like the same kind of deal—and he didn’t make the cut.
The news caused quite a stir, given how well respected this university is supposed to be, and the faculty couldn’t very well be seen doing nothing about it. They came up with the Dear Stranger support system.
It’s straightforward. Every student is paired with another—from a different grade. They make a point of assigning newcomers with people who know the campus well—and every week, they’re supposed to write a letter to each other, answering a question suggested by the faculty.
I love the idea of Dear Stranger, because I don’t know anyone here. I’m not fond of the reason why it was implemented—who would be?—but I’m still eagerly dropping off my handwritten note at the administration building first thing in the morning on Monday.
This week, the guideline was, “Introduce yourself. State how you feel about coming or returning to campus. Tell your correspondent what you think about the assigned pen pal system,” and I’m proud of having done so in a concise, not overeager way.
Then again, I managed to mention my mother in the first paragraph, but how can I not, when she’s such an integral part of my life?
I seem to recall she was an okay mom when I was growing up. Sure, she had rules, but I was always the kind of kid happy to do as I was told, so it wasn”t a point of contention. I remember fun picnics, long walks on sunny days, the amusement park. I don”t know if losing Dad did something to her, or if she just wasn”t equipped to deal with her kid after I grew tits, but things changed when I was a teen. It wasn”t enough for me to get good grades and do what I was supposed to, I was also forced to follow her lead on every other aspect of my life: attend her old high school, have her exact extracurriculars, no matter what I wanted to do, and most of all, be a certain weight.
See, Mother is what any guy would call a MILF. Fifty-one, and built like a fitness model, with a teeny-tiny waist, and muscular everything. She”s a B cup, those small boobs tucked away under formal blouses.
But Dad has Italian roots, and from the get-go I was built differently; my hips are wider, my thighs are fuller, and yeah, my boobs were bigger than hers by the time I was twelve. That”s when the diets started. And the consequences when I failed to meet her impossible standards.
After ten years of her constant scolding, insults, and punishments, I know how to avoid the brunt of it, and I”m used to the rest. I don”t think I would have tried to get out from under her thumb, if it weren”t for Robert.
Robert, the boy she told me to date. And the man she wants me to marry.
I reread the note, andI considered starting out again, erasing any mention of her, but I only had one sheet of nice, thick correspondence paper, and I didn’t feel like rewriting it all. I’ll have to make a conscious effort to not make everything I do here about her. The whole point of being here is avoiding her shadow. For a time, anyway.
My plan is simple: stay out of the way through law school, and hope against all hopes that Robert finds another pawn to plant his claws into. If he rejects me, she can”t say anything, can she? And even if things don”t work out that way, it will buy me a few years of freedom before I find another way to get out from under her thumb.
By the deadline, age twenty-five, I have to be away from her, no matter what. I’m not dumb enough to think I’ll be safe after.
* * *
Monday is an introduction day. Since I’m coming in as a post grad, I don’t have a group to follow, but the faculty has assigned me a guide for the first day—a gorgeous girl in a red sundress and a white cardigan with her long hair in a severe bun—to show me around.
She looks absolutely stunning, in a way that”s not quite contemporary; no one would blink if she were highjacked and dropped in 1980.
“CallaBeaufort,” she tells me formally, shoulders back, head high, offering me a hand.
I know this type of girl all too well.I’m not sure they have debutantes in Thorn Falls, but if they do, she was definitely presented. Not that I”d judge her for that—so was I.
“Tia Cole,” I reply, shaking her hand.
I don’t often truly get along with women like her, although we’ve been pushed together our whole lives. They’re the people my mother wants me to befriend, and for the most part, I do, but it tends to be surface friendships, for the sake of appearances. They don”t like me any more than I like them. I used to conform, but now, I make my contempt and disinterest for charity ball invites, teenage betrothals, and secret pregnancies amongst the wealthy blatant. Besides, we might wear the same kind of appropriate, preppy clothes, but I fill them out completely differently, and back home, the other well-to-do girls didn”t like that.
My closest friend in college was actually in performing arts—a dancer, and half the reason I’m here in the first place. She was picked up by the Thorn Falls ballet last year, and when I said I’d miss hanging out, Tanya joked that I should apply to Rothford. And to the surprise of us both, I did.
“Cole,” she repeats. “From Albuquerque or New York?”
I force my smile to stay into place. Of course she knows my family. “Both. My mother’s Senator Cole. My grandfather and brother are in NYC.”
“Ah, yes. My family—the Doyles—are in contact with Senator Cole,” she tells me, her nose wrinkling.
I catch the subtle change of expression. Maybe she’s not as much of a perfectly bland doll as she appears to be, if she”s happy to show a hint of distaste.
“Wait, the Doyles?” I repeat. I”ve heard about them. Who hasn”t?”I thought you said your name was Beaufort?”
“By marriage,” she explains. ”My husband isn’t fond of hyphenating.”
Her husband? She seems to be even younger than me. At a glance, I”d say twenty. Poor kid.
I shouldn’t be surprised. If her family’s anything like mine, and they likely are, it was arranged.Hell, if I were unluckier, I’d be married, too, but thankfully, my grandfather was adamant that we should both finish our educations before tying the knot. The stipulation even made it to his will, which gives me three years to find a way to get out of the mess.
“How do you feel about having to use his name?” I find myself asking, not wanting to sound judgmental or rude, but genuinely curious.
I”m not against women taking their husbands” names if they feel like it, but she makes it sound like it was entirely his decision.
“If it were up to me, I’d get rid of both names. Calla Smith has a lovely ring to it, doesn’t it?”Calla breaks into a smirk.
I grin. “We’ll get along just fine.”
It turns out Calla”s my age. A STEM student still working on her bachelor—senior year—she knows the campus well, and is quick to show me the pool, the cafeteria, the library, and the best stores. She extends an invitation to two parties this week, to my surprise.
I thank her, and decline promptly. “I’d love to, it’s just that I should get settled, you know.”
In short, I’d rather walk over hot coals, but it’s lovely of her to offer.
From the look she gives me, she understands the subtext perfectly.
We exchange phone numbers, and we part ways by Rose Hall. She crosses the roadto return to her house, not sorority—Vesper, she tells me—I make my way to the car park.
I”m supposed to go into Thorn Falls to meet Tanya for lunch.She only has twenty minutes in between rehearsals, so I order for both of us as soon as I get to the cafe she picked, just across the road from the Golden Theater.
Tanya is adorable, wearing a tiny, see-through wraparound covering over her black leotard, leg warmers scrunched down on her ankles, and her mess of wild curls tamed into a tight chignon. I know it takes fifteen minutes and an army of pins to keep it into place. She basically just replaced her pointes for tennis shoes and crossed the road. Everyone turns to stare, but they always do; she is breathtaking. Petite, athletic, those big pale green eyes contrasting with the terracotta hue of her skin, she couldn”t be more different from me if she tried.
Tanya came here directly after graduation to start her job, so I haven”t seen her all summer, though we text every day. We both yell a little as we jump into each other”s arms.
”Oooh, tzatziki! is that for me?” she says, spotting lunch.
I roll my eyes. On one side, there”s a chicken salad and a side of her favorite sauce; on the other, there”s a greasy burger with all the sides.It’s easy to spot what’s for who.
”No, I ordered you a million carbs right in the middle of a workday,” I tease, taking my seat in front of the delicious pile of food.
Honestly? Most of the time, she and I eat about the same thing, except my portions tend to be smaller. I haven”t had a decent meal in three months. It”s hard to squeeze in carbs past my mother and her goons, and frankly not worth the punishment if I”m caught.
I’m very much looking forward to not having someone checking on my every meal, and demanding I weigh myself every week. Though I’m sure Mother will find a way to monitor me when she can. It wouldn’t do to leave the golden goose too much freedom.
”Tell me everything!” Tanya demands.
I only sent her a text saying my roommate situation was interesting earlier. Picking up the sesame buns, I proceed to explain yesterday”s mess.
“And then, the prick just sat there while I fall asleep!” I finish rehashing.
“What a creep.” My friend laughs. “Didn’t you feel weird, falling asleep with a stranger right there?”
“I could have fallen asleep in the middle of a night club, I was that tired,” I admit, biting into a delicious grease-filled burger that is not making me feel guilty. “But you know, he wasn’t creepy. Just…without many boundaries, I guess.”
My friend rolls her eyes to high heaven. “Please. It was totally creepy. If you don’t think so, you understated his hotness level.”
Damn, I forgot how astute she is. I take another bite, feeling myself flushing.
“Oh my god! He totally was a hottie, wasn’t he?”
There’s no point denying it. “Greek god level,” I admit, nodding my head for emphasis. “If one thing can be said about my elusive roommate, it’s that she has good taste.”
“You still haven’t met her?”
I shake my head.
I made it in late on Sunday night, and given the fact that I collapsed within seven seconds of hitting the sack, I’ve never actually seen my roommate. She left before I did this morning. I hope, despite the obvious, that we’ll manage to get along, because I’m not returning to the office to ask for a room change again unless my life depends on it.
“I was thinking about picking up something in town, you know. To break the ice. A box of chocolates, maybe.”
Tanya narrows her eyes. “Tia, you don’t need to buy anyone’s friendship. If they can’t see how awesome you are, they aren’t worth your time.”
I smile at my friend. She’s too sweet. But I also know that she can be abrasive, and hard to get to know. We were seated close by in Humanities, and I wanted to get to know her. So I brought candies. And it worked.
“I said chocolate, not diamonds and roses.”
She rolls her eyes, jumping to her feet. “Fine. To break the ice, today. But you’re not buying anything else.”
I roll my eyes, bringing my mouth to her cheek as she bends to kiss me goodbye. “When’s the show opening, again?”
“Thursday. I got you tickets—two, so you can break that Greek god with you for inspection.”
I audibly snort as I watch her bounce back to the theater. “Yeah, right.”