Page 12 of First Echo

"Let's just get our key and find our room. I'm dying to change out of these travel clothes."

I turned and headed toward Mr. Sinclair, who was still at the desk with the room assignments.

I could feel Brooke following a few steps behind me, her presence like a shadow I couldn't quite shake.

I could also feel Victoria's glare burning into my back from across the lobby.

She was furious, that much was clear, but I'd deal with her later.

For now, I just wanted to settle in and prepare for the afternoon on the slopes.

The clerk handed us a key—an actual metal key, not one of those electronic card things—with a wooden tag attached to it that had our room number carved into it: 217. Very rustic. Very quaint. Very... not what I was used to.

Our room was on the second floor, down a long hallway with thick carpet that muffled our footsteps. The wooden doors were spaced evenly on either side, each with a hand-painted number. When we finally reached 217, I fumbled with the key for a moment before the lock clicked and the door swung open.

The room was... cozy. That's the polite way of saying small.

Two full-sized beds with navy blue quilts, a wooden dresser between them, a desk by the window, and a bathroom that I could already tell wasn't going to have enough counter space for all my skincare products.

But it was clean, and the view from the window showed the mountain looming large and majestic against the clear blue sky.

"Well," I said, dropping my bag onto the bed closest to the window, "at least we won't have to fight over who gets the better view."

Brooke stood in the doorway for a moment longer, still looking like she couldn't quite believe the turn of events. Then, with a small sigh, she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

"Why did you really do that?" she asked, her voice quiet but direct.

I kept my back to her, unzipping my bag and pretending to search for something. "Do what?" I asked, playing dumb even though I knew exactly what she meant.

"Room with me," she clarified, though her tone suggested she thought I was being deliberately obtuse. "You could have roomed with any of your friends. Why choose me?"

I turned around, composing my face into what I hoped was an expression of casual indifference. "I told you, Victoria snores."

Brooke's eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over her face. "No, she doesn't. I've heard her falling asleep in history class plenty of times. She breathes like a normal person."

I had to bite back a smile at that. Of course Brooke would notice something like that . She was observant, I'd give her that.

"Fine," I said with an exaggerated sigh. "Maybe I just needed a break from my friends. They can be a bit... much sometimes."

It wasn't a complete lie. Victoria's constant need for drama, Audrey's obsession with her appearance, Sophie's eagerness to please—it did get exhausting. But that still wasn't the real reason I'd chosen to room with Brooke.

She seemed to consider this for a moment, her head tilted slightly to one side. Then, apparently deciding it was the best answer she was going to get, she nodded once and moved to the other bed, setting her backpack down carefully.

"Well, thanks, I guess," she said, still sounding slightly confused but perhaps a bit relieved too. "For saving me from the humiliation of being the odd one out."

I felt a strange warmth in my chest at her words, an unfamiliar feeling that I quickly tried to smother. "Don't get used to it," I replied, my tone sharper than I'd intended. "This doesn't make us friends or anything."

She laughed then, a short, genuine sound that seemed to surprise both of us. "Trust me, Madeline, that's the last thing I'm worried about."

Something about the way she said it—not unkindly, but matter-of-factly—made me pause. I was used to people either fawning over me or outright disliking me. Brooke's neutral acceptance, her lack of either adoration or animosity, was unexpected.

Before I could dwell on it too much, there was a sharp knock at the door. I opened it to find Victoria standing there, her arms crossed, her expression stormy.

"We're all heading down to grab lunch before hitting the slopes," she announced, her eyes flicking past me to where Brooke was unpacking her clothes.

"Are you coming, or are you too busy with your new BFF?"

I rolled my eyes at her dramatics. "Give me five minutes to change," I said, already turning back to my suitcase. "I'll meet you downstairs."

Victoria hovered in the doorway for a moment longer, clearly hoping for an invitation to come in and chat, maybe even an explanation for my strange behavior. When none came, she huffed and walked away, her boots thudding heavily on the carpet.

As I pulled out my snow pants and thermal layers, I glanced over at Brooke, who was studiously ignoring the entire exchange, focused on organizing her own gear. She moved with a quiet efficiency, everything neat and purposeful.

"You know," I said, breaking the silence, "for someone who doesn't have friends, you seem perfectly content with your own company."

Her hands stilled momentarily, and I wondered if I'd gone too far, bringing up that old wound. But then she resumed her task, her voice steady when she replied.

"Maybe that's because I know the difference between being alone and being lonely," she said, not looking at me. "Do you?"

The question caught me off guard, hitting closer to home than I wanted to admit.

I thought of all the parties I'd attended, surrounded by people who claimed to be my friends but didn't really know me.

I thought of the way Julian sometimes looked through me rather than at me, as if I wasn't worth his attention.

I thought of how, even with Sam—sweet, solid Sam—I sometimes felt like I was playing a role rather than being myself.

Was I lonely? The thought had never occurred to me before, but now, standing in this small room with someone who seemed to understand solitude better than I understood my own popularity, I wasn't so sure.

"I'm heading down to lunch," I said, ignoring her question entirely. "I'll see you on the slopes later."

As I headed into the bathroom to change, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. I looked the same as always—hair perfectly in place, features arranged in their usual confident expression. But something felt different, off-kilter, like I was seeing myself through a slightly warped lens.

I shook my head, dismissing the feeling. It was just the altitude, messing with my head. Nothing more. This was going to be a perfect trip, filled with fun and freedom and everything I loved about skiing. Brooke Winters and her probing questions weren't going to change that.

But as I zipped up my ski jacket and prepared to join my friends, I couldn't help wondering if maybe, just maybe, rooming with Brooke was going to turn out to be more interesting than I'd anticipated.