by Kate Brian
thing. “Not really,” I replied.
I flushed. “That obvious?”
“And modest, too,” he said, sliding a glance in my direction.
“I know everyone that goes to this school,” he said.
“You’re one of those girls, aren’t you?”
“Everyone?” I said. Hardly possible.
I was flaming red by this point. “What girls?”
“It’s a small school,” he said, studying me.
“Those girls who are smart but pretend they’re not. Those girls Didn’t feel that way to me. In fact, it felt pretty damn huge. But who are absolutely model-level gorgeous but are always saying
then, it was my first day.
they’re ugly,” he said.
“Pearson! Quit flirting and throw the ball back!”
Gorgeous? Gorgeous? I hated compliments. Never had any idea Before I had only felt the guys hovering. Now “Pearson” held his what to do with them. Especially ones I suspected were backhanded.
hand out for the ball and I looked up at his friends, six of them, all
“Those girls whose very existence tortures all the other self-
sweating and heaving for breath about twenty yards away. Rather esteem-lacking girls around her.”
than handing it over, I turned, took a few steps, and punted the ball I snatched my schedule out of his hands and stuffed it into my
to the guy farthest from me. It fell right into his hands. One of the back pocket.
players—a tall, broad, blond kid who had “cocky” written all over
“I guess that makes you one of those obnoxious guys who thinks
him—threw me a lascivious glance before jogging back into the
he knows everything and is so full of himself that he’s convinced game.
that everyone around him wants to hear his every last unoriginal
“Reed Brennan. Sophomore.”
thought,” I said.
My heart skipped a disturbed beat. “Pearson” was reading my
He grinned. “Got me pegged.”
schedule.
He didn’t even have the decency to act offended. He had that air
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K A T E B R I A N
about him that said he knew who he was and didn’t much care what I or anyone else thought of him. I envied that.
“Reed Brennan, sophomore, I’m Thomas Pearson, senior,” he
said, offering his hand.
No one even close to my age had ever offered to shake my hand
HOUSING’S IDEA OF A JOKE
before. I eyed him uncertainly as I slipped my hand into his. His palm was unbelievably warm and the firm assuredness of his grip sent a rush of anticipation right through me. As he stared directly into my eyes, his smile slowly widened. Did he feel it too, or did he just know somehow that I felt it?
My roommate was a talker. Her name was Constance Talbot and she His cell phone rang and he finally pulled away, sliding it out of apparently lacked the need for oxygen. She started talking the
his left pocket. Odd, I had thought he’d placed it in the other one.
moment I entered our room after my encounter with Thomas
“I have to take this,” he said, spinning the phone on his palm like a Pearson and didn’t come up for air once. While she blabbed, I
six-shooter in an old western. “Business before pleasure. And trust checked out the posters of rock bands and Rodin paintings she had me, it was a pleasure to meet you, Reed Brennan.”
hung in my absence. Took in the piles of cardigans and T-shirts and I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
low-rise cords on her bed. Wondered if her Manhattan school had
“Pearson,” he said into the phone.
kicked her out for continuously disturbing the peace.
Then he strolled off, head up, so comfortable that he may as well Her favorite topic of conversation? Herself. Making me wonder
have owned the place. I wondered if he actually did.
if I had been idiotic to think that the girls here would be different.
In those five minutes I found out that she was an only child, that she was new to Easton like me, that she had attended a private school in Manhattan and could have kept going there but felt the need to
“expand her horizons,” that her dog was unfortunately named
Pooky, and that she had a boyfriend back on the Upper East Side even more unfortunately named Clint.
“Clint and I went to the U2 concert last summer at the Garden.
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K A T E B R I A N
P R I V A T E
17
Not like anyone wants to go to the Garden, but where else is U2
that I grew concerned. “Oh, no. I didn’t bring them with me. I
gonna play, right? So my dad gets us backstage passes because he didn’t want to, you know, show off.”
was promoting it, and—did I mention that my dad is a promoter?”
Right.
She had.
“Anyway!” She was back in my face, bright smile and all, fasten-
“And he was all like, ‘The band isn’t going to be back there, but ing a beaded necklace around her neck. “Are you ready?”
you’ll get to see where they get dressed and hang out.’ But then we
“For what?”
get back there and open the door and guess who’s standing there?
“For the house meeting!” she said, her abnormally large eyes
Guess!”
bulging. “We’re gonna meet our house mother!”
It was actually my turn to talk.
“Oh. Right,” I said, scooting forward on my plaid comforter.
“Bono?” I said.
“Doesn’t that sound so seventeen hundreds? We have a house
“Bono!” she exclaimed. “Right there! Like five feet away! And
mother,” Constance said, cracking herself up. “I can’t wait to meet do you know what he said? He said, and I quote, ‘Pleasure to meet the rest of the girls on our floor.”
you. . . .’ ”
She looked at me expectantly. “Yeah. Me neither,” I said, forc-
Her Irish accent was really bad.
ing a smile.
“ ‘You have some of the most gorgeous Irish skin I’ve ever seen.’
I followed her out the door, wishing I felt half as excited and He knew I was Irish! Just from looking at me!”
confident as she did. Unfortunately, I had already seen the girls on Apparently Bono was neither blind nor stupid. After all,
our floor. Seen them chatting on their cell phones, folding their Constance had the requisite thick red hair. The freckles. The green two-hundred-dollar jeans, toting their Kerastase hair products
eyes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she had Erin Go Bragh tat-into the bathroom, and I already knew that I was in over my head.
tooed across her ass.
And they all seemed as if they already knew one another. They
Except that she was too wide-eyed and perky to be the tattoo type.
approached one another easily and talked like old friends—as if
“So of course I asked him to pose for a picture with me and of
they had all lived here together their entire lives, cultivating private course he did. My friend Marni took like a hundred of them—”
jokes and creating a specific style that I would never be able to
“Really? Do you have them?” I asked, trying to make an effort.
match, having come to the game so late. There wasn’t a single item There was at least a five-second pause as Constance turned her
in my closet that wouldn’t make me stick out like a Podunk loser—
back on me and dug through her pink satin jewelry box—so long
a Wal-Mart frequent shopper.
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K A T E B R I A N
I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t kno
w how to chat and tell secrets and be friends. No classmate of mine had been inside my house since I was eight. I didn’t do birthday parties or slumber parties or anything else, and as a result no one at my old school knew anything about me. Which was just the way I wanted it. I had made THEM’S THE RULES
that choice back when my mother had first begun her long and continuous downward spiral. To protect myself. To protect other
people from her. And it had worked all this time. Not a soul outside my immediate family knew my secrets.
What I had never realized was that after seven years of antisocial The meeting was being held in the common room on our floor—fifth behavior, I had rendered myself incompetent. Incapable of
floor, Bradwell. The U-shaped hallway of our dorm terminated at teenage normalcy. I was a sorry excuse for a girl. And no matter each end with a door to the common room. Beyond this room were
how much I wanted to, I was starting to wonder if there was any-the elevators to the lobby, which meant that in order to get to your thing I could do to change. If there was anything I could possibly room you had to walk through the common room and take one of the do to make people want to get close to me. Especially these people.
two doors to your side of the building. When I had come through ear-Less than five hours at Easton and I was already fairly certain my lier, the well-worn couches and chairs had been placed all around the girlfriendless drought would continue.
room, creating nooks for studying and one television-viewing area.
Now all the seating had been arranged in a wide V, facing the TV.
Dozens of girls crowded on and around the couches and chairs, chatting and laughing. The place was packed and the decibel level was staggering. A thick concoction of perfumes—and scented hair products and scented lotions—choked the air. Constance bounded right into the room and took a seat on the arm of one of the couches. The girl at the end, who now had a perfect view of Constance’s ass, rolled her eyes and pulled her arm in close to herself. I hovered by the door.
There seemed to be more oxygen there.
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P R I V A T E
21
A young woman stood near the TV making notes on her clip-
studies last spring. After that, I am proud to say that Easton invited board. When Constance had entered, she’d looked up and smiled.
me back to be the first ever teacher of Chinese language and cul-Her long, smooth hair was pulled back in a plaid headband and if I ture. So if any of you are interested, it’s a beautiful language and bumped into her on the street I never would have pegged her for there’s still time to transfer into the intro class.”
any older than seventeen. She checked her gold watch and wrinkled Silence.
her nose quickly.
Ms. Ling blinked. It seemed like she had expected a few enthu-
“Okay! It’s about that time! Let’s get started,” she said. “Come siastic volunteers and our nonexistent reaction threw her. She
in, come in.” She waved me into the room and everyone turned
stood up straight and cleared her throat, checking her clipboard.
around to look. With no other options in sight, I walked around to
“Okay, onto the rules. I know some of you have heard these
the end of the V, dropped to the floor near Constance’s feet, and before, but bear with me,” Ms. Ling said. “I have to go over every-hoped that everyone would stop staring.
thing. Them’s the rules.”
“Hello everyone, and welcome to Easton Academy. I am Ms.
She flushed when, once again, no one laughed. Didn’t she realize Ling, your house mother.” She paused and laughed. “That sounds
that trying too hard was about the worst thing she could do if she so old. Do I look old enough to be your ‘mother’?” she added,
wanted us to think she was cool? I mean, according to her auto-
throwing in a couple of air quotes, made awkward by the clipboard biography she had been one of us only six years ago. Did people really and pen in her hands.
forget that quickly?
A few people laughed halfheartedly. Even more rolled their
“First, let’s talk about curfew,” she said, earning a few groans eyes. Ms. Ling didn’t seem to notice. She crossed her legs at the which actually seemed to perk her up. We were alive!
ankle and hugged the clipboard to her chest.
What followed was a long litany of the rules and regs, all of which
“A little bit about me,” she said with a smile.“ I graduated from were listed in the Easton Handbook we all had back in our rooms.
Easton Academy six years ago. Lived in this very dorm my freshman Of course, I had thought that some of them were just for show—to and sophomore years. This was back before they built the freshmen make the parents feel like they were sending us to a nice, strict, no-their own dorm,” she added with a sly smile. She wanted us to feel nonsense school—but it turned out that they were all real and that like she was one of us. Or maybe she just wanted to feel like she was the school took them very seriously. We really did have to sign in still one of us. “After I graduated, I went to Yale undergrad and with Ms. Ling in her room on the first floor every night before ten.
Harvard grad where I received my master’s degree in East Asian
After that, we weren’t allowed to leave our floors without express
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K A T E B R I A N
permission from Ms. Ling herself. There were quiet hours every
night from six until nine and we were not allowed inside Bradwell between classes. Guys were only allowed inside the dorm between the hours of six and nine each night, and then they were only per-mitted in the common rooms (this announcement was met with a
THE GIRL IN THE WINDOW
few snickers, the most obvious of which came from a sort of pig-faced girl with blond hair and big boobs who sat in the center of the V ). Once she was done reading us the three-page-long list, Ms.
Ling looked up and grinned.
“So that’s it! If you have any questions, please feel free to come That night, since there was nothing to study for yet, quiet hours see me in my room. I have a really good feeling about this group. It’s were suspended so that each floor could have a little get-to-know-going to be a great year! I look forward to getting to know each and you party. I was never good at parties, so I was kind of dreading it, every one of you!”
even though I knew I should just go. If I wanted a new start, I was She had to yell that last part because everyone was already on
going to have to go against instinct, which meant being social. The their feet and heading for the doors.
very idea gave me cramps, though, so I avoided thinking about it and flipped through my Easton Handbook on my bed while
Constance got ready. And talked.
“So when we finally got to the bottom of the mountain, I was totally dehydrated and had this streak of mud all the way up my side and this guide was waiting for us there and he was like, ‘Did you not see the trail?’ and we were like, ‘ What trail?’”
I smirked because I could feel her looking at me and it sounded like the point in the story where she would expect some kind of reaction.
“Anyway, are you ready?”
The moment of truth. I put the book down. “Maybe I’ll come
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P R I V A T E
25
down later.” I honestly didn’t know until that moment that I wasn’t of our floor-mates and had come back beaming, happy to report
going to go. But I didn’t take it back.
that only two rooms had a window like this and we were beyond
“Want to make an entrance, huh?” she joked.
lucky to get one. I sat down on the sill and stared out the last Not remotely.
window pane. Another peal of laughter rang somewhere out i
n the
“Something like that,” I said.
darkness and my heart ached. What the hell was I doing here? How
“Okay,” she said with a shrug. “But don’t blame me if all the
could I possibly have thought this would be a good idea?
good pizza’s gone!”
Leaning my temple against the glass, I willed myself not to cry.
I’ll live.
This was unbelievable. Was I really homesick? For what? For my
“Don’t worry about it,” I said.
pins-and-needles home life? For the cinderblock halls of my old As soon as the door was closed I felt really bad for bailing. What high school? For the strip malls? My mind flashed on my father was wrong with me? There was no way I was ever going to make
and on Adam, who had never been anything but sweet to me. I saw friends if I sat alone in my room. I knew this. But still, somehow, I my dog, Hershey, wagging his tail when my dad got home, expect-couldn’t make myself move.
ing to see me as well. I saw the ugly flowered wallpaper my parents I sighed and leaned back against the denim pillow my
had hung in my bedroom before they knew I was a tomboy, wall-
brother had bought me at Target, settling into my self-imposed
paper I had always hated but which now felt like the perfect
exile. So this was my new home. This square, cream-colored box
emblem of home. I thought of the lacrosse team and our vow to
with its creaky wooden floor, standard issue twin beds, matching actually get to the state championships this year. Why did all of desks, and five-drawer dressers, one of which I couldn’t even fill.
this suddenly seem so huge? The day before I couldn’t wait to get Within five seconds of seeing my half-empty side of the huge
out of there.
closet, Constance had asked, “Do you mind?” and then promptly
A tear squeezed out and it was like a wake-up call. No. This was jammed up the empty space with three extra wool coats and a puffy not acceptable. I was not a weakling. I had made my choice. I was black parka. It all contributed to my feeling that I didn’t fit or, more not going to call my father and beg him to come back for me. There accurately, that there wasn’t enough of me to fill a place like this.
was nothing in Croton for me. Nothing worth sticking around for, I heard laughter outside the window and stood up. The large bay anyway. I knew this. I just had to focus on it. I stared into the dark-window with a sill big enough to sit on was, hands down, the best ness, at the lights in the windows of the other dorms, and told feature of our room. Earlier, Constance had gone out to meet some myself that I belonged here. I forced myself to try to believe it.
