Chapter 8
8
Sonny
O n the northern Atlantic coast, nestled deep into a coastal plain between monstrous mountains and a vast ocean, Nocturne Valley sprawls out like a lazy, sleeping cat. The busy center of the small town is surrounded by a maze of residential streets, packed with bungalows and small cottages practically sitting atop one another to accommodate its impressive population. And burrowed far back into the northeast corner, butting right against the mountain range as if the town was only built to camouflage it, is Ravenshurst University.
The heart of the campus is built from one of the oldest chateaus in the country that was once owned by the Landrys, a wealthy family who colonized the area directly from Britain. After they settled into their isolated plot of coastal land, the Landrys went on to fund the construction of the town surrounding it. They launched a campaign to bring people to the town from the closest major city, Infinity Heights, promising hope and prosperity to all who took the chance on them.
The path leading in and out has since been expanded and smoothly paved. A major highway was constructed a few miles away, just on the other side of the dense woods, that offers citizens of Nocturne Valley easy access to the surrounding towns and cities that have been built up since.
As my taxi weaves through the densely covered, nearly claustrophobic road, I can’t fight the eerie feeling that there’s more to the Nocturne Valley than what their website and perfectly polished origin story share. And I know, based on the scraps of information my parents let slip through my childhood, that my suspicions are justified. Even if Aunt Divina regularly touts about the university. The instinct to turn back chills my bones as we near the famed place, but I’m too terrified to voice those thoughts to my taxi driver.
“First-year?” the female asks over her shoulder once we finally break through the forest and Nocturne Valley stretches out before us in the windshield. She slows to a stop to allow a young family to scurry across the street.
Nodding, my gaze follows the family as they make their way toward what I assume is the town’s center, where dozens of people are buzzing around. “Yes.”
“You’ve got that look about you.”
I snap my attention back toward her. “What look?”
“Nothing bad.” She shakes her head. “You’ve just got that expression like you’ve never seen a place like Nocturne Valley before. It’s unique. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
She takes a turn down what appears to be a main street through the town. All the way at the end of the road, I can see the familiar black spires that adorn the top of every official Ravenshurst University letterhead I’ve received stabbing proudly into the sky.
“Are you from here?” I ask conversationally, watching as cars and people make their way through town at a leisurely pace.
There’s a bookstore that catches my attention, stationed appropriately beside a coffee shop that seems to be popular. It appears that they’ve got stores for everything—from souvenirs to groceries, clothing to pharmacy. I probably won’t have to leave for the major city very often, which is a good thing, considering I no longer have a car.
Poppy’s face flashes through my mind, and for what feels like the thousandth time, I check my phone for a message from her. Still nothing.
“Born and raised,” the driver announces proudly. “Most of the residents in town are. The rest are transplants. People who came to visit and never looked back.”
That strikes me as odd, but I can tell it’s something the driver—and possibly the entire town—uses as a bragging point, so I school my expression and gaze through the windshield. Toward the fast-approaching, tree-lined road and Ravenshurst University’s iron gates sitting at the end.
My heart kicks up speed, and every reason I’ve come up with for why this is such a horrible idea races to the forefront of my mind. Someone has to know what the real Poppy looks like. There’s no way that Aunt Divina kept her this tight-lipped secret, especially when she campaigned so hard to have her attend. One look at me, and they’ll immediately know that I’m not her. Perhaps they’ll even draw the resemblance to my own mother and tote me out in a police car.
“It’s not as scary as it looks,” the driver pipes up, her eyes surveying me from the rearview mirror again.
“Do I look that bad?” I breathe out a humorless laugh, focusing all my attention on adjusting the V-neck shirt Poppy picked out for me to wear.
We pass the neatly manicured trees a little too quickly and pull up to the tall, black gates. She slows to a stop beside a paved booth, where a burly man sits with his arms crossed over his chest.
“G’morning, Hank. I’ve got a first-year with me,” the driver greets cheerfully, nodding her head back in my direction. She rolls down the back window and Hank’s glossy eyes roll over toward me.
“Well . . . what’s your name?” he asks impatiently after a few moments, as if I should have already known to give it to him.
I lean against the door, sticking my head slightly out the window as I clear my throat. “So-uh. P-Penelope Ellery, sir,” I stumble, mentally kicking myself for already getting this wrong. When I hold the license Poppy had fabricated for me, Hank takes it carefully.
He turns toward the laptop sitting before him, tapping away at the keyboard before he glances back at us and nods his head, holding the license back out for me to take. The gates slowly open, and I fall back into my seat in relief.
“You’ve got twenty minutes, Rose,” he warns the driver just before she takes off.
Rolling up her window, Rose’s head swivels around as she accelerates forward, taking in the pure beauty of Ravenshurst University. I can’t blame her. The grounds are immaculate. Every bush is manicured to perfection and every lush blade of grass must be cut to the same height. Flowers bloom in gardens skirting the fast-approaching buildings, which shine brightly in the afternoon sun despite their obvious age.
Yet, even with all the beauty surrounding me, I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.
It’s too perfect.
“They don’t like the townspeople lingering on Ravenshurst property,” Rose explains absentmindedly as we crawl toward a newer-looking building.
There’s a small group of people huddled on the sidewalk outside. I can finally make out the sign above the double-doors that reads ‘Admissions.’ Since the dates for Poppy’s Costa Rica trip didn’t line up perfectly with the start of Welcome Week, I had to email them and request a later admittance. Apparently, this is the last group of stragglers to arrive before classes begin next week.
“Why not?” I ask her.
Rose pulls her car against the curb and slides the gear shift into park. “Just some silly old superstitions. It’s ridiculous if you ask me.”
Waving at another driver on their way out, she grabs the steering wheel and turns fully in her seat. “This is our stop. You ready?”
With a deep inhale through my nose, I scoop up the heavy backpack I used as a carry on and finally face the buzzing crowd. Rose swings her door open, allowing a cool blast of wind to sweep through the vehicle when a young woman walks up to my door and opens it for me before I get the chance to pull the lever.
“You must be Penelope,” she greets with a wide smile, and I hesitate in my seat. “You’re our last newcomer of the day. I’m Vanessa. I’ll be showing you the ropes today,” she explains, stepping back to make more room for me to exit the vehicle.
Her long, thick blonde hair swings behind her in the breeze, occasionally whipping against pale arms and shoulders.
Rose stands behind her, eyeing me carefully, as if this isn’t how students usually react on their first day. Scooting out of my seat, I straighten and hold my hand out for Vanessa.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I manage to say, and she eagerly grabs my hand in hers to shake, unaffected by my hesitation.
Once the awkward introduction passes, her smile is back in full effect. Rose passes over the small suitcase I had in the trunk and Vanessa steps back a bit so I can pay my tab.
“So, you’re a sophomore?” Vanessa asks as we fall into step beside one another.
I hear Rose’s car door slam shut behind us and resist the urge to run back and insist she take me with her. The rest of the group meanders ahead into the building, and I realize that each of the first-years have been assigned and paired off with their own Vanessa.
Nodding, I adjust the strap on my shoulder. “I wasn’t quite ready to leave home last year,” I admit, making my best attempt to sound sheepish, just like Poppy told me to do. We decided that telling them Poppy had zero intention of ever attending sounded worse than pretending to be a little homesick, and admitting I’m actually a junior is out of the question.
“It’s a lot more common than you think,” she soothes, her expression softening. “But you’ll love it here. It’s not like anywhere else.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
Stepping into the cool building, we’re told to leave our luggage in the lobby for someone to take to our dorms while we grab our paperwork and tour the campus. I try to keep my backpack, too nervous to leave everything I own and trust some strangers not to rummage through it. Vanessa snickers at my hesitation and assures me it’s safe before she takes it from my shoulders, promising me that I’ll thank her when I see how large the campus really is to walk.
Once we’re free of our things, the group is led down a long hallway lined with old photos of the school’s campus as it transformed over the years and random artifacts they collected along the way.
Vanessa doesn’t bother to even glance at any of the old memorabilia, her eyes fixed on me instead.
“I was nervous on my first day, too. It’s a lot, especially with the weight of measuring up to my parents when they were here. But give it a few days, and it’ll be like a second home,” she carries on, and I want to kick myself for already garnering pity from the first person I’ve interacted with here.
Or rather, a first home, considering I have no other home , I reply glumly in my mind.
If I mess this up, I’ll lose everything. And still, it feels like nearly every fiber of my being is revolting against the fact that I’m here.
With a tight smile, I duck my head so she can’t read my terrified expression. Forget the weight of my mother or aunt . . . I’ve got the weight of my entire future—along with Poppy’s—hanging on my shoulders. I can’t bail now.
The group turns into the admissions office and is greeted by a plump woman waiting with a large, professional-looking camera. We spend the next hour taking ID photos as they ramble off random things to us. Curfew is 10 p.m. on weeknights, 11 p.m. on weekends; the Landry library is off limits to freshmen; students are not permitted to enter the woods or the beach outside of the specified times. That last one would be hard to enforce, considering the forest butts up to the entire back end of the university.
Once the hour passes and they’re finished throwing information at us, emphasizing several times to schedule an appointment with our counselors before classes start, we’re sent back on our way with our guides to tour the campus and find our dorms.
Vanessa engages in small talk with the rest of the group, occasionally stopping for her and the other guides to show us where to go for books or the route to the cafeteria. I mostly keep to myself, too afraid to say something that might give away who I am.
It’s ridiculous, honestly. Not a single person here knows me or Poppy—not enough to examine me under a microscope and pick apart my responses versus what my cousin’s would be. I can come up with an entirely new identity here, and no one would have a clue.
But the pressure to put on a good show has me choking up. It weighs so heavy on my chest, I feel like I can’t breathe. I need to pull it together quickly.
“That’s weird,” Vanessa says into my information packet as we approach a tall, gray building that has clearly been modeled after the Landry castle. She stops in the middle of the sidewalk and stares down at the paper in her hands with a scowl.
“What?” I ask, glancing back toward our group.
Once a few of them realize Vanessa has stopped, they turn back and ask her what’s wrong.
“Most first-years are placed in the same building, regardless of their class, but she’s been put into Devlin.”
Everyone’s attention swings in my direction, eyes wide as if they’re just now actually looking at me.
“What’s your last name again?” one of them asks, craning his neck to read it on the paper Vanessa is holding.
At the same time, a tall brunette says, “that must be a mistake.”
“It’s right here, clear as day. You’ve got a passcode and everything,” Vanessa says, puzzled.
“What is so special about Devlin?” I rasp, wanting to melt into a puddle on the ground and disappear beneath all their curious stares.
“They’re the nicest dorms we have. Usually only assigned to seniors,” the brunette explains.
“Even then, you aren’t getting in unless you’re one of the highest bloodlines,” the other guy scoffs, pursing his lips.
Forget turning into a puddle. I want to evaporate and disappear altogether.
And . . . Bloodlines?
Of course, Aunt Divina would use her own Carmichael self-importance to pull all the stops and ensure everyone knows just how special Poppy is. To create a spectacle before she even arrives. This is the exact reason Poppy refused to come to Ravenshurst in the first place. It’s another excuse for her mother to flaunt her family’s wealth and reputation in front of everyone.
Vanessa is the first to recover, clearing her throat before pointing in the opposite direction we came from. “It’s just across campus. I’ll walk you over.”
“Are you sure we can’t speak to someone in the admissions office to clear this up? There’s obviously been a mistake . . . ” I try, glancing back toward the impatient group of peers who are already sizing me up as their new social threat.
“They don’t make mistakes, especially with something like this. Trust me, you’ll love Devlin. I’m on the waitlist for next year.”
I bite my lip, resisting the urge to insist again that we turn back around and triple check. Everyone makes mistakes. Even if Aunt Divina pulled her strings to get me into those dorms, surely I can request to be put with the rest of my class.
But before I can find it in me to smooth things over or make a joke out of it, the way Poppy would, Vanessa hooks her elbow through mine and guides us away from the rest of the first-years. Instead, we retreat in the opposite direction with daggers being thrown at our backs and I’m left with an endless pit in my stomach that grows with every minute I spend here.
“I’m actually really glad you’re placed here. I’ve never seen one of the dorms in person. You usually can’t get in unless you’re invited by one of the residents, but they all stick to themselves or are too busy in their senior studies to bother.”
This sounds exactly like the type of place Divina would have Poppy live.