Chapter 9
9
Sonny
D evlin, as it turns out, is on the opposite end of campus, as far away from the rest of the first-years as possible. Vanessa explains that it’s set away from the rest of the dormitories because it’s the most recent addition to the campus. They wanted to ensure residents were able to fully focus on their studies without the typical distractions that come with the rest of the student housing. It’s mostly seniors or graduate students swamped with their final thesis or cramming credits in to make sure they graduate on time.
Definitely not the social party environment I’ve always seen depicted on campuses.
The building itself is beautifully crafted in onyx and charcoal hues to match the historic architecture of the rest of the campus, but still manages to hold on to its own personal, modern identity. There’s another nearly identical one sitting beside it, and when Vanessa notices my attention drifting that way, she shrugs her shoulders.
“One downside to living in Devlin is that the faculty housing is next door. I suppose that’s part of the reason they’re so strict about noise levels and visitors over here. The professors don’t want any part in college life.”
Oh, great. On top of being isolated from the rest of my peers, I’ll be under the microscope of all my professors.
Damn Poppy and her power struggle issues.
“They’ve got your temporary passcode written down right here with instructions on how to change it,” she tells me once we reach the wooden, arched double-doors. She shoves the paper in my face with her manicured nail poised against a set of six numbers before she pulls it back to her chest.
Nodding my head, I suck in a deep breath and turn to fully face her and say our goodbyes. “Thanks so much for your help, Vanessa.”
“Of course,” she says cheerily, still hugging my information packet. When my gaze drops down to her hands expectantly, she releases a sheepish giggle. “Oh, I wasn’t going to leave you here. I wanted to make sure you get to your dorm safely.”
Craning her neck, she attempts to peer through the tinted glass windows carved into the door.
“You know as well as anyone that you aren’t allowed in without permission, Nessy,” a feminine voice pipes up from behind. I whirl around to find a short woman standing there, her blue hair a perfectly spiked mess atop her head.
“I obviously have permission, Beatrix. I’m her welcome guide,” Vanessa pushes out bitterly, her tone dropping a few notes into an irritated tone that I would have never thought was possible from someone so chipper. “And I told you not to call me that here.”
“I’m sure she can find her way up a set of stairs and count by twos to her room,” the other girl, Beatrix, replies cooly.
She raises a dark brow at me in challenge, silently questioning if I’m competent enough. Then, she leans her hip against one of the pillars across from us to prove she won’t be leaving us alone.
I shrug and turn back to a red-face Vanessa. “It’s okay, really. I can handle it from here.”
Her left eye twitches as she puffs out a dramatic sigh before forcing on a polite smile. Heavy hands shove over my paperwork. “Please don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
With that, she walks off, bumping into Beatrix’s shoulder on her way through the twin pillars.
“That’s my cousin, Nessy. She hates that she can’t get in here,” Beatrix says with a smile in her voice, pushing off her pillar to stride up to the keypad and enter her code.
“Why won’t they allow her in?” I wonder, stepping through the doorway with a grateful smile when Beatrix steps aside to usher me in. Vanessa seems nice enough.
The entryway is spacious and plain, with a long, dimly lit corridor straight ahead and twin mahogany staircases bracketing it.
Beatrix heads toward the corridor and I follow. “For Nessy, it’s mostly a running joke just to mess with her. What floor are you?”
Fumbling with the packet Vanessa handed me, I rush to find the page with my room number on it, nearly tripping when she takes a sharp turn and brings us face-to-face with a set of elevators. “It’s room 505, so fifth maybe?”
“Perfect. I’m 503.” Punching in the button for the fifth floor, she steps back to lean against the wall of the elevator as the doors close. “I thought I saw them bringing luggage in earlier.”
Relief crashes over me. My bags knew where to go before I even did.
“You must be pretty well connected, swinging a spot in Devlin as a first-year . . . ”
Shrugging, I keep my gaze trained on the slowly climbing numbers. “Yeah, that, or very overprotected.”
Beatrix barks out a laugh, and I turn my head to see her shaking her own. “Hey, my parents are the same way. You have to capitalize on it wherever you can. Focus on the silver linings. The first-year dorms are haunted and absolutely vile.”
The elevator pings and stops, doors opening to reveal a bright hallway lined with seemingly endless mahogany doors that match the front of the building. Beatrix turns left, and I follow.
We march down the hall quietly and I watch the dorm numbers decrease as we pass each identical door. They’re organized with odd numbers to the left and even numbers on the right, situated in sets of two with long stretches of wall between. Just before we reach the end of the impossibly long hallway, Beatrix comes to a halt and gestures toward the doors marked 503 and 505.
“Right here,” she says. “My best friend, Ava, is in 501. She’s the RA, so her dorm is less cramped than ours.” Jamming the key into her lock, she twists it open before looking over her shoulder with a wolfish grin. “I’ll give you a chance to get settled in before I tell her you’ve arrived.”
Nodding, I smile back. “Thank you, for everything.”
She’s already through her door by the time I get the words out, so I’m not sure if she heard me at all until I hear her chirp, “Of course,” just before the door slams shut.
I try my own lock with the key Vanessa shoved into my palm, surprised to find that it slips right in and twists with no issue.
The dorm itself would be better described as a small apartment than anything else. It’s far nicer than the loft I’ve been renting above the flower shop for the past few years. If Beatrix thought this was cramped, I can only imagine what she’d think of that.
The door opens into a cozy living room area that’s been furnished with modern, gray couches and a large TV mounted onto the wall. A generous kitchenette sits along the back, complete with brand new appliances. The bathroom and bedroom doors line the opposite side, taking up the other half of the square footage.
Even with the queen-sized bed sitting in the center of the bedroom, there’s ample space for a dresser and desk along the walls. The walk-in closet allows for more storage than I can even begin to fill and the door beside it leads to the bathroom, which has a large, clawfoot tub and oversized vanity.
It’s no wonder people like Vanessa are dying to get in here. I can’t begin to imagine what strings Aunt Divina pulled to get Poppy into these dorms. The cost alone must be astronomical.
That’s how it’s always been with her. Spare no expense to remind everyone around her that she’s better than they are. My mother couldn’t stand it.
With no other choice but to settle in, I roll my suitcase into the bedroom and lay it across the foot of the bed. First, I flip open the lid and pull out the lump that’s been shoved into the center. Unraveling my favorite T-shirt—the one that Poppy tried to insist I throw away—I gently pull the music box out.
A priceless family heirloom, according to my mother.
“Useless, is more like it,” Poppy would grumble any time she saw it sitting in my second hand display case, her lip raised in disgust at the chipping wood and permanent oil stains from being handled so much. I don’t care what it’s worth. It means more to me than anything else I own.
My mom gave it to me for my thirteenth birthday—the last one I spent with her—and I’ve treated it like gold ever since. The intricate design on top was hand-carved and stained by my great-grandfather.
A little piece of myself in a place I’m meant to be someone else.
After giving it a tight, appreciative squeeze, I set it on top of my dresser and move back toward my suitcase.
I unzip the front pocket and a box falls out, wrapped perfectly in white paper and a red bow.
A folded piece of paper is taped to the top with the message: Try to loosen up .
I can’t help the smile that forms when I recognize Poppy’s handwriting. Of course, she slipped something at the last minute.
Tearing off the paper to reveal what’s inside, I throw my head back and bark out a laugh.
A large, bright pink vibrator sits in my hands. How she managed to slip this past Divina is a miracle in itself.
Unless, she didn’t, and her mother bore witness to this impressive, pink monster.
God, I’m going to kill her.
I drop it back into its box and throw it into the bedside drawer, then move onto unpacking everything else as I wait for Poppy to call.