“And The Lady Gwendolyn Everleigh.” Ellen motioned toward the one in pink, who did the same.
This was just too much. All three of them were looking at her expectantly, and she wondered how one was supposed to respond to such an introduction. Salute them? Bow? Drop to her knees and kiss their feet?
She panicked and did the only thing she could think of, bending her knees and bowing her head in a crude imitation of what the twins had done. She saw Beatrix bite her lip to hold back a sneer, and she felt her cheeks flush even hotter. She couldn’t wait to tell her dad about this one.
Ellen looked annoyed and clapped her hands. “All right, I’ll leave you three to get acquainted. Ladies, you have my mobile number should you need anything.” She turned to Sadie and raised an eyebrow. “Miss Marlowe, please keep in mind everything we discussed.”
With that, she swept out of the room. The door swung shut and the three girls stood still, facing off across the room. Beatrix cocked her head to the side, listening. As the last clack died away down the hall, she looked at Sadie, her face blank.
“I thought that frosty bitch would never leave.”
In the next instant, the twins leapt into action, ripping off their gloves and blazers and shimmying out of their shapeless skirts. They were like little pastel Tasmanian devils — if Tasmanian devils had cleavage and wore ridiculously expensive-looking lingerie.
Sadie stood motionless, her jaw hanging open, and soon they had stripped down to matching sets of lacy underwear in pink and purple. They pulled out bobby pin after bobby pin, tossing each one on the floor in a pile with their tiny hats, then finally shook their heads until their hair cascaded wildly down their backs. At that point, the one in purple finally stopped moving and looked at Sadie, a toothy grin on her face.
“I’m Trix, and this here’s Gwen.” She jerked her head toward her sister, who had skipped over to a huge, full-length mirror in the corner of the room. Gwen was standing sideways on her tiptoes and staring intently at her reflection, one hand running across her flat stomach. She waved a hand distractedly, eyes never leaving the mirror.
“It’s Sadie, right? Don’t touch our shit, don’t snitch about anything we do to Ellen, and we’ll all get along fucking great,” Trix said. She smiled again, one side of her perfectly pink mouth curving slightly upward. Then she turned and sashayed back to one of the beds, flopped down on her stomach, and pulled out a cell phone. Sadie’s jaw dropped farther as her eyes zeroed in on a black orchid inked neatly on her lower back.
She forced her eyes up toward the ceiling as she tried to figure out what was weirder — the fact that her royal roommate had a tramp stamp or that she had just looked at that roommate’s butt. Then she realized she should really be focusing on what was important: What the hell just happened?
“Uh, hi,” she finally started, trying to sound about a thousand times more confident than she felt. I belong here, right? she told herself. I hang out with royalty all the time, dahling — I just love tiny hats! The room stared back at her, and she felt like she was completely invisible. Trix was already deep in conversation, talking so fast Sadie could barely catch what she was saying. Gwen was still studying the mirror, this time facing it with one hip jutted out and her lips arranged in a sensual pout.
Sadie sighed, grabbed her toothbrush, and took off toward the bathroom. An hour later, she was deep into a book when the lights shut off. She glanced at the clock radio she had plugged in next to her bed and groaned. It was 10 P.M. exactly. The twins had taken off minutes earlier, calling out something about going to the library. Sadie had just smiled and waved, but something about the amount of black spandex and bronzer they were wearing didn’t really say late-night studying in the stacks.
Sadie closed her eyes and imagined she was back in her old room in Portland, with its boxy IKEA furniture and ancient yellow eyelet bedspread. It was her mom’s favorite color, and she had never been able to bring herself to change it after she died. She saw her four walls against the insides of her eyelids — on one was a signed poster of the Northwestern Lacrosse team, and on another was a collage of photos and a cheesy Van Gogh reprint she couldn’t seem to get rid of. She gathered her blanket closer around her body, held the image in her head, and finally she slept.
Chapter 4
Sadie tugged at the hem of her skirt as she made her way up the chapel’s stone steps. She and Jessica wore the same navy blue and green uniform, but they couldn’t have looked more different. Jessica’s looked tailored and preppy, and Sadie felt like she was dressed up for Halloween in a sixth-grader’s cheerleading uniform.
The pleated skirt was too short — it hit her awkwardly just one too many inches above the knee — and her polo shirt was somehow simultaneously too baggy and too tight in all the wrong places. She looked down as she climbed the last step and wrinkled her nose. The white knee socks were really more overgrown girl scout than oversized cheerleader, but that really didn’t help.
She had stared at herself in the mirror for at least five minutes that morning, trying to decide how to make her outfit look slightly less ridiculous. She tried sagging the skirt or rolling it up, but everything just made it worse. She could unbutton one more of the polo shirt’s buttons and look like a cheap extra in a bad music video, or one less and look like a bible-camp counselor who was desperately trying to hide her chest acne. She was pretty sure neither of those was the ideal first impression. She finally decided to err on the prude side until she saw the other girls, but now she was in full panic mode.
Jessica stopped in front of the chapel door and sighed. “I swear Sadie, if you mess with that button again, I’m going to smack you.” She glanced down at Sadie’s chest and grinned. “And go with the skanky version. No one buttons up.”
Once inside, Sadie felt like she was back in the dining room, walking the gauntlet toward the lacrosse table. As she and Jessica made their way down the aisle, each row’s chatter quieted as they passed, then began again — louder this time — with a flutter of manicured hands over glossy lips.
“When does this new-girl stuff wear off?”
Jessica shrugged. “Don’t worry, in a few days, everyone will go back to ignoring you, and it’ll be just like you’re invisible.”
Were those really her two choices? Sadie looked to her left and saw Thayer sitting with Charlotte, a platinum blonde Sadie recognized from the lacrosse table. Both of them had hair perfectly curled in waves that looked like they took hours. Sadie raised a hand to wave, but Jessica grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty pew.
Sadie settled in, taking in the soaring, vaulted ceiling and the floor-to-ceiling stained-glass windows. “So do we really have to do this every Friday?”
Jessica wrinkled her nose and pulled out a purple phone. “Yup. Every Friday morning, and again for special events and holidays. It blows, but at least our first class is a half hour shorter.” She looked toward the ceiling and closed her eyes in mock prayer. “And thank god for Twitter.”
Sadie giggled. “Tell God I don’t think I can Tweet on my crappy flip phone.” Jessica just grinned and started poking at her phone’s touchscreen. “Holy crap, Charlotte just tweeted the most blatant humble brag ever.”
Sadie slumped down farther in the pew and gazed up at the ceiling. Despite how weird everything at Keating was, she had to admit starting school on a Friday was a merciful touch. No matter what happened today, at least she would have forty-eight hours to get over the trauma before she had to do it all over again.
Jessica was still hunched over her phone, so Sadie kept herself busy by counting the bloody Jesus statues scattered around the church. She was at six when the building fell silent.
She felt a tug at her sleeve and looked around her to see the entire school staring open-mouthed down the aisle toward the chapel doors.
They were wide open, and the sunlight streaming through was so bright Sadie had to shield her eyes. She could just make out the silhouettes of two girls, but from the roar of furiou
s whispers that was rising up around her, she had a guess as to whom they might be. As they started down the aisle, Sadie felt a blush creeping up her neck. Her slutty polo was the last thing anyone was going to notice.
The twins’ skirts were the same plaid fabric as everyone else’s, but they were cut low across the hips and fell in short pleats that barely covered their thighs. Their polo shirts were tight, and the necklines plunged so deep Sadie could see the tops of their bras — super subtle in neon orange and electric blue. Their hair was down and messy, and their eyes were rimmed in thick black liner. They still looked like Barbies, but different ones this time. Supermodel Barbies — or maybe porn stars.
“Uhh, are those your roommates?” Jessica stuttered. “You said they were twins.”
Sadie snorted. “Yeah, that’s them.”
Jessica looked at her accusingly. “All you said was that they were uptight. And British!”
Sadie sighed. “Well, they were. Then they got naked, and they have tattoos, and they mostly just ignore me. It’s a long story.”
“Uh, I have time,” Jessica hissed. “Why’d you let me blab about pancakes for twenty minutes this morning when you could have been telling me that you live with Gwen and Trixie Everleigh?”
Sadie raised her eyebrows. “You know them?”
Jessica’s jaw dropped. “You don’t? Sadie, you’re from Oregon, not Mars. They’re like, really famous. They’re in the tabloids all the time. Last week Gwen was on the cover of Fame because she got super hammered at some club in London and flashed the deejay.” Jessica lowered her voice. “And Trixie supposedly made a sex tape with one of those super-hot soccer — sorry, football — players, but no one’s seen it yet.” She looked at Sadie solemnly. “Her lawyers are suing the porn companies so they can’t release it.”
Sadie watched the twins with renewed interest. If the twins were tabloid fodder, it might explain all the drama with Ellen.
“Anyway, I want to hear all about it at lunch,” Jessica said with a pout.
“Okay, but not when everybody is around. I’m not allowed to talk about them, remember?”
Jessica waved a hand impatiently and looked back toward the aisle. The twins were still making their way to the front of the room, relishing each pair of eyes that followed their every move. As they drew level with Sadie and Jessica’s pew, Thayer appeared directly in their path, dragging a short brunette with long frizzy hair and big brown eyes that blinked rapidly behind thick glasses.
The twins glanced at each other and immediately looked bored.
“Hi ladies,” Thayer said, her voice dripping with honey. “It is such an honor to meet you. I’m Thayer Wimberley, of the Philadelphia Wimberleys, and this is my friend, Edith Hemmings. Her father is the British Ambassador to the United States.” She emphasized each syllable with immense satisfaction, linking an arm through Edith’s. Edith just kept blinking, looking happy and terrified.
“We met last summer at the Queen’s regatta,” Edith blurted, a little too loudly. “Our daddies were at Oxford together.”
Trix tossed her hair, and Gwen looked down at her nails. Thayer darted her eyes back and forth like a frog drooling over a particularly juicy pair of flies, but her smile was starting to fade.
“Sit with us?” Thayer finally finished, a little desperately. She motioned toward the group of girls seated behind her, and Charlotte and the others nodded excitedly. They looked like bobble-heads, with their wide, fake smiles and chins bobbing up and down as if detached from their bodies. The twins looked at each other, and Sadie saw a hint of a smirk pass between their identical lips.
They turned slowly back to Thayer in perfect sync, and Sadie could tell they were back in tiny-hat mode. They smiled sweetly, and Thayer arranged her crestfallen features back into their usual mask of smugness.
“We would absolutely love to sit with you, Thayer,” Trix began. “You too, Edith. I’m sure we have just loads in common, and we really need to get in with the right sort here.” She paused as Edith’s eyes lit up, and Thayer opened her mouth excitedly to respond. “But see we already decided to sit with our roomie, Sadie Marlowe — of the Portland Marlowes?”
“Maybe next time,” Gwen finished, giving Thayer a condescending smile. Then they flopped down in Sadie’s pew and buried their heads in their phones.
“Social-climbing commoners,” Gwen muttered, just loud enough for the rows around her to hear.
Left alone in the aisle, Thayer’s smile disappeared, and she dropped Edith’s arm like it was on fire. She straightened her shoulders and puffed out her chest, but her face was as red as a tomato by the time her skirt hit the pew.
“Hey, um, guys?” Sadie said. “This is Jess. Jess this is Trix and Gwen — my roommates.”
They each looked up and gave Jessica a quick nod, their manicured fingers still jabbing away.
Jessica turned back to Sadie and mouthed, “Oh my god!” Sadie just shrugged.
They heard footsteps at the front of the room, and everyone turned back toward the podium. Sadie could see a man in an expensive-looking suit making his way up the dais. Sadie opened her mouth, but before she could comment Jessica held up a hand.
“Trust me,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Headmaster Cromwell was one of the shortest, tannest men Sadie had ever seen, and he was so wide she was worried he would tip over and roll back down the steps like a runaway bowling ball. His suit was at least a size too small, but the rest of his outfit was perfectly put together — his tie and pocket square the exact shade of pink as the tip of his ruddy, bulbous nose.
“Way too much time on the yacht this summer,” Jessica whispered under her breath. “And a lifetime of too much bourbon.”
“Welcome ladies,” the man bellowed. His voice echoed around the room’s soaring walls and ceilings. “I trust that you all spent your summer enriching your minds and enjoying the sunshine, resting and readying yourselves for another year of learning at this fine institution.” He paused and looked up expectantly, like he was waiting for thunderous applause. A few girls clapped politely, and Trix loudly snapped her gum.
“I’d like to welcome our new freshmen and transfer students, and I trust that your sisters have already done their part to make you feel like a part of our family. As we welcome you into our circle of trust, we hope that you will bring us into yours, as well.” He cleared his throat. “I look forward to getting to know each one of you over the course of the school year. I wish to not only be your headmaster, but also your mentor and confidant.”
Jessica made a gagging noise and Sadie bit her lip to keep from laughing. Somehow, Sadie couldn’t picture herself going to Mr. Cromwell to talk about period cramps.
“My door is always open, and I hope you will all take advantage of it and come by to introduce yourselves.”
Jessica leaned towards her. “Don’t do that unless you want him to look down your shirt and then tell you your shoulders look tense.” She shuddered. “He’s a creep. And he’s handsy.”
“Mrs. Darrow, our Head of Housing and Social Development will now take you through the school rules and other items on this week’s agenda. Enjoy your week, and I expect to see you all at the annual Kickoff Reception tonight at Cranston Field before the football game.”
He stepped down from the podium, and a woman stepped up and took his place. She raised the microphone and sent screeching feedback echoing through the chapel. When the girls groaned and covered their ears, she looked up sharply. The noise stopped instantly. Sadie made a mental note to never break a rule. Ever.
The woman was at least six feet tall, and she wore a dark blue suit with an antique-looking brooch on the lapel. Her hair was pulled up into a tight — and sort of oddly terrifying — French twist, and she wore narrow glasses with wire frames. At last, she cleared her throat.
“Good morning, ladies. Welcome back, and of course welcome to all of our new students.” She didn’t smile. “We take the rules very seriously here at Keating. Please
understand that we will not look lightly upon any infractions.”
She took a deep breath. “Ms. Plath. Rule one, please.”
Madison shot out of her seat. “Rule number one is to always act in the manner that is expected of a young lady of Keating Hall caliber. Keating girls are polite. They are eloquent, and they are never sloppy.” As she finished, Mrs. Darrow cast a sharp glance toward the first row, and the girls all straightened up, throwing their shoulders back and crossing their ankles. She nodded stiffly and Madison sat down. She pointed at a senior Sadie didn’t recognize. “Rule number two, please.”
The girl stood. “Keating girls are always punctual, and they do not swear.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Trix muttered. Sadie and Jessica both giggled, and Mrs. Darrow looked up. She cleared her throat loudly.
“Ms. Marlowe.”
Sadie froze.
“I trust that you used the summer to develop a thorough understanding of the student handbook, as you were so instructed in your welcome materials. Can you give us the third rule, please?”
Sadie saw a flash of blonde hair as Thayer and Charlotte whipped their heads around, smug joy reading plainly on their faces.
Sadie swallowed and stood up. She felt hot and sweaty, her mouth packed with cotton balls. She pictured the leather folio she had paged through once, then tossed onto her nightstand months ago. It had sat there, untouched, until she had shoved it into her duffel bag last week.
“Whenever you’re ready, Ms. Marlowe.”
Sadie looked down at her hands. She remembered a list of rules — she had scanned it to make sure she wasn’t going to get rapped on the knuckles for speaking out of turn in class — but it’s not like she had memorized it. Jessica cleared her throat softly, and Sadie realized she was motioning something in her lap. She had taken a pen from her purse, and was holding it between two of her fingers. Something clicked, and Sadie looked up.
Poor Little Dead Girls Page 3
