Page 6

Chapter 6

THE WOMAN IN WHITE

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 4

The office is deserted during lunch, but it is packed with gnomes. Stuffed gnomes, which invade the lobby tables and wall shelves. Heart-patterned pointy hats hide their faces except for their blobby noses and gray-yarn beards. Each has a name stitched on the stomach. DeMario, Kennedy, Ignacio…

I approach the counter cluttered with university prep pamphlets, trading careful looks between the gnomes and the vintage gramophone in the corner. “Für Elise” plays from its aluminum horn. The peaceful melody is a cruel counterpoint to my heartbeat. “Excuse me?”

“Just a moment!” a high-pitched voice calls from the back room.

I fold my hands on the counter to stop them from shaking. Maybe Principal Grimes doesn’t need to kick me out. Maybe she’ll convince me to leave on my own. She’ll explain how hard everyday life will be, that I should’ve never expected my residential retainer to get back to me about my single, and that I’m a total failure. She’ll tell me that Mom did just fine as an Excellence Scholar and I’m the family disappointment.

A white woman in a rolling chair finally slides into view. The heart-patterned bow holding together her curly ponytail looks bigger than her head and makes her seem as young as a first year, even though she must be in her twenties. “What can I help with?”

A loaded question.

I straighten my shoulders. “I’m here to see the principal. But I also want to inquire about switching to a single room?”

“I’ll warn you now, they hardly indulge these requests unless it’s serious, love.”

“It is serious.”

She rolls toward the counter, better revealing her sweatshirt with VALENTINE NAM AMOR TRADITIONALIS EDUCATIONIS on the chest, and boots up the ancient desktop computer. Her manicured nails—also heart-decorated—clack along the keyboard, punctuating the air out of sync with the piano music. As I wait, I read more gnome name tags. Colton, Leandro, Becca, William…

“You watch Gnome in Love ?” The woman’s pupils practically sparkle.

“Huh?”

“You seem interested in my collection.”

“They’re yours?”

“They’re from a reality dating show I adore. The contestants fall in love dressed as gnomes. I collect their stuffed toy line.” She sighs sadly enough for her hair bow to droop. “I assumed you knew. For an academy of love, the students don’t care much about romance.”

Unspoken Guideline 4: Valentine attracts people obsessed with love. Because of the heart branding? The cupid statues in the fountain?

Or in the middle of these woods, maybe she feels as alone as I do.

“I’m in the system, love,” she says. “What’s the serious roommate sitch?”

“I paid extra for a single on the housing application,” I say. “But my residential retainer said there was a mix-up.”

“We’ve never had that kind of mix-up. You’re sure?” More scrolling and clicking. “I don’t see any fees paid in your file. The academy must’ve randomly assigned you to a place.”

“I gave my mom the check,” I blurt, my brow spiking. “She sent it in the mail.” Although I never technically checked if the money left my account. Too many other venturing-off-to-boarding-academy purchases were happening at the same time.

“I apologize, love,” the woman says. “Apply once you’re a third year? All singles are occupied until the end of the academic year.”

End of the year rattles me to my core.

If I manage to stay here, no way can I be trapped with Jasper that long. I promised Mom that I would keep my head low no matter what, but these last two days have been fighting to break that.

“Is Charlie here, Ms. Lyney?” a voice calls from farther down a hallway. It belongs to a woman with the same wispy blond hair and delicate features as Jasper. Her pantsuit is white on white, since someone like her can afford the torturous upkeep, and the badge of her heart-themed lanyard reads PRINCIPAL NATHALIE GRIMES .

“Yes,” Ms. Lyney says, eyeing me expectantly.

Trying to stay calm feels impossible, but I force myself to walk steadily through the hall lined with portraits of old, esteemed members of Valentine society, and follow Principal Grimes into an office marked with a PRINCIPAL plaque. As she claims a seat at her glossy executive desk, I take one of the two leather love seats facing her. The towers of manila folders on her desk block her head from view completely.

Muttering under her breath, Principal Grimes shoves the towers to a corner of the desk, barely avoiding a Jenga-style collision on the floor. Then she smiles, folding her hands like she’s praying. Maybe a signal that I should be. “Welcome, Charlie.”

I stare at the paperwork. “Hello.”

“On behalf of the board of trustees, we’re overjoyed to welcome you to Valentine Academy for Boys as our new second-year Excellence Scholar. And, selfishly, I’m thrilled to meet my nephew’s roommate!”

The sole mention of him reels dread through me. But if she’s thrilled, does this mean Jasper didn’t spill my secret?

“I’m so glad he’s decided to stay in the residential hall with you like a normal student this year,” Principal Grimes goes on. She doesn’t have the same dimples as Jasper, but she does have too much light in her eyes, even with that workload on her desk making stress seep out of her. “That boy needs down-to-earth time.”

“Actually—” I stop. Principal Grimes, the one person I need on my side, wants Jasper and me to be roommates?

“Right…,” I say. For now.

“We heard your mother was also a Scholar.” Principal Grimes motions toward a framed painting of the Valentine crest behind her. “We cherish these moments that highlight our passion for tradition. Did your mother tell you how we have the largest secondary-education library collection in the nation? Or about our student-beloved mixer each November? Although I want to make it clear, you were not chosen because of legacy. Your accomplishments are your own.”

First the familiar electric hum to her tone. Now the persistent topic changing. This must be Jasper in disguise. “Thank you.”

“Anyhoo, sorry for pulling you out of class, but this is a bit time-sensitive.”

“Okay,” I say, folding my hands so tightly that my knuckles burn.

“Have you heard of the Student Tutoring Remediation Interdisciplinary Program run by a few of your classmates?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Although other students volunteer as tutors, I’ve noticed a lack of improvement in those who use this service lately. Would you assist our members?”

She’s asking for a favor.

Relief floods through me. My secret is still a secret. Jasper didn’t sell me out. He doesn’t know who I am.

“The previous Scholar for your class used to help many of our students, but he”—Principal Grimes hesitates—“left halfway through last year. That’s what we believe changed.”

From that hesitation, he didn’t simply leave. Maybe too much pressure was the reason.

My relief twists into something less so. “Thank you, but I should focus on study—”

“This would reflect wonderfully on your college applications.” She hits me with another too-bright smile. “This program is another long-standing tradition, and that’s important to the board of trustees, you see. I’m admittedly in a tough spot the longer this continues.”

The board of trustees again. Some omnipotent power who must have puppet strings on Principal Grimes. Maybe they lay the groundwork for the guidelines. I can’t say no to them.

My heart sinks, the words dying in my throat.

“I get it,” I say slowly, twisting Mom’s varsity ring on my finger.

“Excellent! Please speak with the members after class.” Principal Grimes whips out a notepad and scribbles something down before handing me it.

Student Tutoring Remediation Interdisciplinary Program

Scholar Research Library 3 p.m.–5 p.m.