The Garden

by Amy Sparling

  “Fine.”

  I go back to my side of the bed, leaving behind the scent of cinnamon and coffee from the candle on her nightstand. I might let it go for now, but I’m not letting it go forever. It’s kind of screwed up that my Aunt Kate just allows this. Belle needs help. A good therapist or something. She can’t just live at Shelfbrooke Academy forever.

  “We can talk about you, if you want,” Belle says softly after enough time has passed that we’ve both settled down. “I don’t want to make you mad, I just really can’t talk about myself, okay?”

  “Fine, let’s talk about me.”

  I yank off my school uniform and toss it into my clothing hamper. “How do you know Declan?”

  “Everyone knows him. He’s really nice. His family has worked here for like, ever.”

  “As gardeners?” I say.

  She nods.

  “That’s probably how he can afford the tuition. I guess it’s like, kids of the employees get in free or something.”

  “So why was he your pity partner?” she asks.

  I really want to forget the whole day, but she just told me something majorly personal, so I return the favor. I tell her about my craptastic first day of school, and how he came over and saved me from not having a partner.

  “How was it?” she says, wiggling her eyebrows. “Spending all class period with him?”

  I shrug. “We barely talked. It was mostly just taking notes. I don’t know why we had to partner up. I think the teacher is just evil.”

  My stomach twists and I hope it doesn’t show on my face. How deep down, I wanted to be friendly with Declan, but it felt impossible. I’d been rude to him when we first met, and he’d been rightfully cold to me. How do you become friends after something like that? Plus, I think my heart knows that it’s better to stay away. That boy is cuter than he has any right to be, and I do not need to go getting a crush on some lowly gardener. I have a senator’s son back at home. And yeah, Henry isn’t exactly waiting on me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t win him back from Viv once I finally get graduate this stupid place and go home.

  “I just thought my first day would be better than this,” I say, feeling a blush creep into my cheeks. “I thought I would make friends.”

  “There’s a party tonight in Kingsbere Hall,” Belle says, perking up. “You could go. Maybe you’ll make some friends there?”

  “Will you come with me?”

  She gives me a look, and I grin. “It was worth trying.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she says, rolling her eyes.

  “What kind of party is it?” I’m no stranger to parties, but something tells me a boarding school shindig won’t be nearly as much fun as the ones I go to back at home.

  “Just one of the parties the senior class throws. It’s held in the basement. I get invited to all of them, but I’ve never been. Everyone says good things about the parties on Knight Watch though. So it’s probably fun.”

  I consider it for a moment. “I’m guessing they don’t wear uniforms to these secret parties?”

  “It’s safe to say they do not.”

  I grin, thinking of my gorgeous black dress hanging in the closet. My first day at Shelfbrooke totally sucked, but I’m not a quitter.

  I’m Sophia Brass.

  And I’m about to show these New England losers how a Cali girl parties.

  Chapter Eight

  Kingsbere Hall has to be the oldest building on campus. It’s way off the normal pathways and looks abandoned. Ivy walls cover the red bricks, creeping up and over the windows as if nature is trying to take back the old building. Or hide something from getting out. I smile to myself, thinking of all the haunted stories you could invent about an old building like this.

  It’s a chilly night, and my black pantyhose aren’t doing a single thing to keep me warm. But at least I look totally hot in my black dress, ruby red ballet flats, and long silver teardrop necklace. This is a much better look than those dumb uniforms.

  The air is sweet, scented by the nearby gardens and the tall hedge wall that lines the cobblestone walkway as I make my way toward Kingsbere Hall. It’s dark out since it’s just past ten o’clock at night, and the dusty glow of the few lampposts that dot the sidewalks barely provide any light this far away from the main campus.

  The shadows make the gardens feel slightly creepy, despite their beautiful appearance in the daytime. The closer I get to the building, the more I start to feel weird.

  No, I tell myself as the fluttery, awful feeling stirs in my stomach. I am not nervous. Why would I be nervous? Parties are my thing. They’re what I’m good at.

  But nervous is exactly what I feel like.

  There’s a soft thumping of music sounding from the building, where the seniors-only party rages down in the basement. I’m just a few steps way now, so close to the door that I could reach out and touch it. But something stops me. Intuition, maybe.

  I hear laughter in the distance, and I jump, rushing off to the side where an overgrown bush blocks me from view.

  Why am I hiding? What is wrong with me?

  Still, I stand here in the chilly air, hidden in the shadows while two girls talk excitedly to each other as they approach the building. I should step out, say hello, introduce myself. But again, that weird intuition feeling something stops me.

  “Yo, wait up!” a guy calls from way down the sidewalk. I peer at him through the leaves, and see that it’s actually two guys walking together, their bodies illuminating under the lamppost and then disappearing again when the sidewalk gets dark. The girls stop and wait for them to catch up.

  “There better be some hot girls at this party,” the guy says, popping his collar and running a hand over the top of his hair. “I’m ready to get out there and date again.”

  “I heard some new girl just enrolled,” his friend says. “Apparently she’s pretty cute.”

  I grin.

  “Nah, man, stay away from that girl,” the first guy says.

  My grin disappears.

  “Yeah, it’s some rich California brat,” the of the girls says. “Chad told us she’s not worth the effort.”

  There’s that stupid B word again. And who on earth is this Chad guy deciding to judge me for no reason? I see red. I want to walk out and give them a piece of my mind, but I don’t.

  “You can tell she thinks she’s better than everyone, and I’m like, really? Your parents are corrupt hedge fund managers. Ugh.”

  “People like that make me sick.”

  “Everyone on Knight Watch has made a pact to ignore the stuck-up princess.”

  I don’t know who is saying what now, and I’m too scared to peek out from the bushes in case they see me. My heart aches. My pulse races in my ears. I can’t believe the things I’m hearing.

  “Why did she have to be hot?” A guy says. “People like that should be ugly. It’s only fair.”

  A girl snorts. “I don’t think she’s that pretty. She’s pathetic.”

  The music gets louder as the doors open, and then everything goes quiet again. I don’t step out of the shadows. I don’t want to risk seeing anyone else on the sidewalk, so I turn the opposite direction and slip into the gardens. It’s like a labyrinth in here, but at least there are plenty of places to hide if I hear anyone else.

  My cheeks are cold and wet, and it takes a second to realize I’m crying. I don’t even know when the tears started, but now that I’m aware of it, I can’t stop. I can’t believe I’m crying. I don’t cry. I am strong. And important. And loved back home. At least… that’s what I tell myself. Do the people at home really love me? Or am I just some rich connection they use to get into parties and go on free vacations?

  I tuck into a little alcove in the gardens, one so dark I can barely see the white concrete bench as I sit down on it, covering my face with my hands as I let out more sobs.

  How did I go from popular, lovable, and cool in one day to pathetic outcast in the next? And why are they hating on my parents? I m
ean, my parents aren’t exactly the best people ever, and I don’t know what exactly hedge funds are, but they aren’t me. I shouldn’t be hated because someone hates what my parents do for a living. They shouldn’t publish me without even meeting me just because of my family.

  I don’t know how much time passes while I sit on this bench feeling sorry for myself, but I do know that I am freezing cold, and absolutely sick of crying. I don’t know how my life went from perfect to miserable so fast.

  I take out my phone and stare at my home screen. Viv hasn’t texted me at all. No one else has, either. I check my social media. All my friends are posting about their epic parties and perfect lives, and no one seems to miss me. It only makes me want to cry again, so I shove the stupid phone back in my clutch.

  I look up at the sky, which is dark and dotted with sparkling stars.

  Maybe Belle has it all figured out. Maybe it is easier to sit in our dorm room all day. I get up, wipe my cheeks, and start walking back to the staff dorms.

  Only… it’s not so easy because it’s dark out here in the gardens. I think I came from this way, but as I turn around a corner, I feel completely lost. So, I turn back and retrace my steps. Then I go the opposite way. Large shrubs form walls that are just about as tall as I am, and the paths that are beautiful in the day become scary at night. I meander through some shadowy pathways trying not to freak out.

  Finally, I turn and recognize a concrete statue of a little girl. I saw that statue when I entered the gardens, so I must be close to the way out of here.

  I make a sharp turn and smack straight into a tall boy that smells amazing. Like freshly laundered clothes and summer days and—oh crap.

  “You,” I say, taking a step backward.

  The moonlight glints off his necklace, and the intricate silver pendant catches my attention for a moment. It looks like some kind of Celtic circle or something.

  “Lost?” Declan says, a bit of amusement in his voice.

  “No,” I say.

  He folds his arms over his chest. He’s handsome in his school uniform, but right now he’s wearing dark jeans and a black T-shirt and he looks even better than usual. I grit my teeth and shove out the thought.

  “Sure you’re not lost?”

  “I know exactly where I am,” I snap.

  “Is that why you’ve walked this path three times in the last ten minutes?”

  My cheeks flush. “Seriously?”

  He chuckles. “I’ll show you the way out.”

  I want to refuse his help, but I’m also cold and miserable and just want to go home.

  “How come you didn’t announce yourself the first time I walked by?” I ask as he leads the way out of this labyrinth. “Or were you being a creepy stalker who enjoys watching me get lost?”

  I really hope he didn’t see me cry. I’m pretty sure I was alone in that alcove when the real waterworks came flowing out of me, but maybe I wasn’t. As if I needed to be any more humiliated tonight, let’s add a hot boy seeing me cry like a loser.

  “I come here to get some peace and quiet,” he says, ignoring my stalker comment. “Your annoying pacing back and forth ruined that.”

  “You sit in the gardens in the middle of the night all by yourself?” I ask.

  He holds up his phone, which has a pair of headphones wrapped around it. “I come out here and watch my favorite TV shows. It’s the only way to get away from my loud, obnoxious roommates.”

  “Makes sense,” I say, shivering as a blast of cold air rips right through me.

  “You’re not dressed for the outdoors,” he says, turning left in a place I didn’t realize could turn left. But sure enough, there’s a path between the shadowy hedges that are taller than we are.

  “I was going to a party, but I decided not to.”

  “Hmm,” is all he says.

  We walk in silence for a few more minutes, and then he turns, and we’re out of the gardens. “Your dorm is that way,” he says, pointing toward the staff dorms.

  “Thank you.” There’s a shiver in my voice because it’s gotten colder now that we’re out of the gardens.

  Declan looks like wants to say something, but he doesn’t. We’re standing under a lamppost, and once again I see his necklace. “That’s pretty,” I say, pointing to the silver pendant. It’s circular, with some kind of design on it that looks meticulously carved.

  “It was my grandfather’s,” he says, wrapping his hand around the pendant.

  “Well… it’s cool.”

  He nods once. I take that as my cue to leave. Clearly, he was just being nice by escorting me out of the gardens. Just like he was being nice in chemistry class. He probably didn’t even care that I made it out safely, he just wanted a place to watch his show without having me wandering around lost and annoying him. I turn and walk away, and with each step farther away, I’m secretly hoping he’ll call out my name and offer to hang out with me.

  But he doesn’t. Declan is not my friend.

  I’m not sure anyone is.

  Chapter Nine

  My second week of classes at Shelfbrooke Academy are almost exactly like the first one. People don’t talk to me, and the work is too easy. I guess it could be worse, I tell myself, as I get dressed one Monday morning while my cousin lounges in her pajamas, half asleep in her bed.

  The other students could go out of their way to be rude to me. But they don’t. They just ignore me. My Cali friends aren’t exactly ignoring me, but they don’t seem to care about me now that I’m gone. Out of sight, out of mind. I text Viv every so often but she’s not the kind of friend you want to text with. She’s more of a friend you hang out with in person. She’s there when you want to have a good time or share gossip. When you’re stuck at a boarding school all the way across the country? She’s not so available.

  After that night in the gardens, I thought Declan might become something like a friend, but he’s also ignored me every day since then. In chemistry, we haven’t had to partner up again, but I also have him in English and history. Oh well. I’m fine without him. I am fine alone.

  I leave the dorm bright and early and swing by the dining room to grab a coffee. Then, I take it to my favorite place—the gardens. Every morning I get a coffee and drink it here before it’s time to go to class. I know it sounds silly, but it energizes me. Walking through the gorgeous gardens and being surrounded by nature makes me feel like I can take on the day.

  All of those happy, warm feelings go away the second first period starts.

  “Everyone pair up,” the teacher says, waving his finger in a circle in the air. “This month we’re doing a group project. Two people only, no groups of threes.”

  I don’t even want to glance around the classroom and try to make eye contact with someone, anyone, who might have pity on me. I know it’s useless. I prepare myself for a day of humiliation.

  And then someone sits next to me. “Need a partner?”

  He’s short for a guy, with dirty blonde hair and dark eyes that look like they’re hiding something. His uniform is wrinkled.

  “I guess,” I say, not exactly thrilled at the way he’s looking at me, but happy that I’m not alone.

  “Cool.” He leans back in his chair and chews on the end of his pen. “You’re the type who will do all the work, right?”

  “Er...”

  “Beat it,” Declan says. He drops his textbook on the desktop with a loud thump. “She’s my partner.”

  This guy, whoever he is, scowls up at Declan. “I got to her first.”

  Declan doesn’t back down. Instead, he squares his shoulders. “I don’t care.”

  The guy looks at me, and then back at Declan and shrugs. “Whatever, man.”

  He leaves, quickly joining another girl at the front of the class. Declan takes his spot. I want to thank him so badly, but my defenses are up, as always, and it’s so much easier to be sarcastic than humble.

  “Wow… two rescues in a row. You some kind of knight in shining armor?”
<
br />   “My armor isn’t very shiny,” he says.

  At the front of the class, the teacher explains our project. We’re supposed to spend two weeks researching a topic that he provides, and then another two weeks writing an essay on it. We’re supposed to do equal work with our partner and state each person’s contribution on the last page of our essay. The teacher walks around handing out little slips of paper with a topic on it. Whatever it says, that’s our project topic.

  I’m nervous when the slip of paper drops on Declan’s desk. He turns it over and I lean close to read it, catching the smell of his cologne at the same time. He always smells like summer, and it reminds me of home.

  Social and political propaganda in literature

  “Easy enough,” I say.

  Declan nods. “Wanna head to the library?”

  “I don’t think we can just get up and—” I say, but as I look around, I notice that half the class has already done just that. The teacher did say we’d be spending two weeks in the library. It’s one building I haven’t seen inside of yet, but from the outside, it’s a stunning show of New England architecture.

  I grab my bag and smile. “Let’s go.”

  While school is still awful and I still hate just about all of it, my first period English class is the best part of my day. For the next few days, I meet Declan in the library, way in the back at a small table that only has two chairs. It’s a perfect place to hide out from the glares of my classmates and focus on our project.

  It turns out that Declan isn’t just a friendly student who is nice to look at. He’s also incredibly smart. We make easy work of splitting up the project and then dividing off to research our parts. We have a shared document online where we keep our work in progress, and each day we both add to it. We don’t really talk much in person, but we work well together. He focuses on his work, so I focus on mine. The worst part is when the bell rings and English class is over.