by Lucy Lambert
“Ah! You got me. I’ll be making a pit stop or two. Just let me know if you want anything.”
“Got it,” I said, leaning my head back against the rest on the top of my seat. Yes, much more lower back support in this van than on that plane.
The driver turned on the radio to a country station. I hated country, normally. But right then, the twangy guitar and the wailing about life’s troubles actually touched me.
I settled in for the long ride.
We pulled out of Gen. Edward Lawrence Logan International Airport, getting on the freeway to bypass Boston. What a name for an airport, I thought. Too long.
I got an okay look at the city as we went across overpasses or particularly large hills. It was different from LA and Pasadena. Smaller, for one.
But a much larger variety in architecture. The skyline had skyscrapers, sure, but there were plenty of old developments, proud old buildings.
And Boston was old. Founded sometime in the early 17th Century. I knew I’d have to learn exact dates, if I wanted to study history.
That’s what I got accepted for, anyway.
I could understand history. It was about what happened in the past, exploring your origins, all the events that have lead up to your current state of being.
Mostly I just remembered all the witch hunts and burnings and other Puritanical nonsense the pilgrims were so into.
Though, as we slipped away from the city, onto the winding roads leading through deep, green forests, I could see why the first settlers thought there was magic in this place.
“Freshman?” the driver said.
We hadn’t spoken for the last hour. I’d let myself get lost in the scenery, the little towns we passed through. It was a beautiful place. Very green. Alive.
“Hmm?” I said, half asleep and daydreaming about witches and warlocks and vampires and all those things the people who settled this land must have feared.
“When I was loading your luggage, I saw an envelope with the Redeemer coat of arms. And you don’t sound like you’re from around here.”
“Yeah, I’m just starting there. Majoring in history, I think. You must know the town pretty well,” I said. I stretched my arms over my head, wincing as my taut muscles relaxed. My right foot had also gone to sleep, and I wiggled my toes in my shoe, frowning at the prickle of returning blood.
The driver drummed out an tuneless beat on the shiny black steering wheel as he nodded at the road.
“Well, I’ve been driving this route for years now. I hear Redeemer’s a good school. Hazelglen’s almost as old as Boston.”
“And you hear good things about it?” I said.
My stomach growled. My body thought that I’d skipped lunch. And I had. At this pace, I was also well on the way to skipping supper. Or at least having it far too late.
“Place that old? I hear plenty. You know the stories about the town?”
“You mean the witches?” I said.
“Witches, and other things. But they’re all old stories. The town’s been dragged into the twenty first century with the rest of the state. But still… what a history!” he said, checking his mirrors as he turned off onto another road.
Well, that was good, I thought. The town had a lot of history, and maybe even a few secrets. We had something in common, then.
A twisting road led into the town. A high canopy of trees almost completely covered it for the last mile or so, making it so dark that the driver flicked on his headlights. Only a scraggy line of sky was visible at the very top. It was a deep blue, getting ready to shift into the bruised purple that preceded nightfall.
A tall sign angled alongside the road announced “Welcome to Hazelglen,” in arched pearl letters over an image of an old-timey town, a massive white church dominating the image. Curiously, there was no population listed.
We rounded another bend which let onto the town. It was nestled in a deep valley, many of the buildings sprawling onto the hillside. A few of the streets were already lit by their lamps, despite the sun being a couple hours away from setting.
“There’s the college,” the driver said as we started our descent.
He appeared to be motioning towards a large, square building poking out through a lot of trees at the other side of the valley. How big was the campus, anyway? A knot formed in my stomach, getting rid of my appetite and replacing it with nerves.
“Where do you drop people off?” I said, eying those dark streets.
At that moment, I really had no desire to find my way through an unfamiliar town. Though, I also had the feeling that no matter where I was in Hazelglen, I’d always be able to see that big building in the distance.
“Oh, normally I just tell you the best place to jump out. Just don’t forget to roll when you hit.”
I gave him the best evil eye that I could muster, all the while forcing my cheeks and lips into what I hoped was a neutral expression. He glanced at me in the mirror, then snorted.
I couldn’t help the chuckle that came burbling up my throat.
“Don’t worry; I’ll drop you off right in front of the student center. They have a bit of a bus loop there, anyway, so it’s no big deal.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Don’t worry about it. Worrying about it just makes you look old, like me!”
The corners of my mouth rebelled against my demand for stillness, perking up in a small smile.
We made a right onto the main campus drive. Under all those trees were many more buildings. People my own age wandered around, wearing backpacks or carrying messenger bags. I gripped the seat tightly and crossed my ankles.
It really had been a year since I’d done any serious time with people in my age group. All those old high school anxieties found their way into the forefront of my thoughts again.
Was I pretty enough? Would anyone want to be my friend? What if no one likes me? What if I show up to class one rushed morning in my pajamas?
Absurd, I know. But that didn’t make all my insecurities and uncertainties invalid.
When he finally pulled to a stop in the U-shaped lane that counted as the school’s bus loop, I wanted him to keep going. I almost said so.
He killed the engine. Everything felt so still, then, so real. We were in front of what I assumed was that huge rectangular building we’d seen before. This close, I could see it had what looked like faux-stone walls (though for all I know, the thing really could have been the keep to some old castle). Orange lights mounted along the wall facing the street lit up the sidewalk. Still in the van, I couldn’t hear the conversations of the various passersby.
The driver got out and opened my door for me. The van rocked a little as he opened up the back to get my few belongings out, which he then piled neatly on the walk.
I stepped out to find the air colder than expected. That building just seemed to loom up before me like a stone giant.
“You’ll be fine,” he said, winking at me, “Just don’t let all the beasties scare you.”
“Thanks,” I said, shouldering my backpack and grabbing up the suitcases. I felt like a pack mule.
A sense of loss filled my as the white van pulled around the curve and started its way off the campus. The driver was nice, and funny. Good company. Now, I just felt alone.
I’d made it. I was here, wherever this was. I looked around at the low buildings surrounding this big one. They were just lecture halls, libraries, athletics centers. Nothing to be frightened of.
But there really were so many trees. Their leaves all rustled in the wind, chittering away. I saw plenty of lamps along all the walks and roadways, but I knew this place had to get dark. I was a city girl, born and raised. Darkness wasn’t my thing.
And the people weren’t monsters. They were my age, for the most part, and a pretty good mix of boys and girls. Some were trendy, some were formal, others were dressed more casually.
“Hey, you a fresher?”
There were two guys. They both wore letterman jackets, the s
leeves a cream color with the rest of it a deep red. Over their hearts were big Rs stitched in gold.
They had that football player aura. Bravado mixed with a young man’s overconfidence. The one who’d spoken had a sharp-featured face under a head of light brown hair that had more product in it than I ever used. The other guy was a bit stockier, a bit uglier.
“It’s that obvious?” I said.
My pulse quickened. I felt so alone, so out of my element.
“Well, you are carrying bags. Look, the undergrad office is just in there on the first floor. Can’t miss it. And hey, our frat’s always looking for more people who like to party. Why don’t you come by some time?” he said. Neither of them really made an attempt to hide the fact that they were checking me out.
I didn’t know whether I should feel flattered or disgusted. But he did at least tell me where I should start with this whole experience.
“Thanks, maybe I will,” I said, hoping that would put an end to it.
I also started walking towards the door, just to make the message clear.
He put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.
“I’m Eric,” he said.
“That’s nice,” I said. I tried pulling out from under his grip, but couldn’t.
Eric winked at me, then let me go. “Be seeing you around.”
He and his nameless buddy smirked at each other and strolled away. I didn’t like the look on their faces.
I practically ran into the building, pausing only long enough to wrench the door open. Both my hands busy holding my suitcases, I had to use my foot to hold it in place.
Chapter 8
“Oh, you’re from California?” a girl with red hair and freckles said. She swung what looked like a genuine Luis Vuitton back lazily from her pinky.
“Yeah, Pasadena. I’m Stephanie.”
So far, orientation was okay. I got a look at the beautiful campus. How could one place have so many trees and not be called a forest? It was bright and sunny today, and the shadows in some of the thicker knots of maples, pines, and oaks were still so deep.
It was no wonder people thought there used to be magic and monsters here.
“Penelope,” the redhead replied, “Pasadena’s nice. My parents have a nice beach house just outside LA. Since you’re from California already, where do your parents spend the summer?”
I frowned. So many of my interactions at orientation had already gone like this. What, was everyone here the child of rich parents? It was getting ridiculous.
“No, we just have the one apartment,” I said.
It was a lie, of course. We didn’t have an apartment anymore. Mom lived in that cancer center now, and I was here. Did that make me homeless?
“Oh…” Penelope said. Her eyes widened fractionally, adding a little space between some of the freckles on her cheeks as she realized what I was saying.
“Well, that’s nice. Hey, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in the dorm, I guess?” Penelope said, practically tripping over herself to get away from me.
What was it? Could they smell poor people or something? Were they afraid they’d catch the poor if they stayed close too long?
I leaned back against a tree trunk, careful not to rip my dress. It was the most expensive thing I’d let myself buy. It was light and summery, the same color as the sky with lovely, subtle flower patterns all over. I thought it was good looking. I mean, I had spent like two hours last night trying to pick out the right thing so as not to repeat my first day at orientation.
That one had started in a small lecture hall in that massive student center. I’d just had a pair of cheap Wal-Mart jeans and some frilly t-shirt on. It was like I’d coated myself in something foul smelling, from the way everyone kept away from me.
The orientation today was a picnic near the middle of the campus, in a small, tree-rimmed clearing. Most people stayed out of the center where the hot sun shone down, choosing instead the shade offered by the big maples and oaks.
I chewed on my bottom lip as I looked around at the little groups of students who’d already staked out their spots. It also seemed like they’d staked out their cliques already, too.
I wanted to blame it on shyness, on being out of the social scene for too long, for why I felt so nervous about just walking up to someone to talk. My hands got clammy, and a shiver always shot up my back. Was this how guys always felt right before they tried asking a girl out? If so, I really sympathized with them right at that point.
I sighed as a warm breeze picked at the hem of my dress, blowing all the hot, sweet smells of summer my way. I closed my eyes and tried to pick them out. There must have been rose bushes nearby. There was sap, too, probably from one of the pines around here.
It was a nice breeze. My long hair fluttered freely in it, the soft ends tickling at my bare shoulders.
My mind flashed back to last night. I’d been trying to settle into my new room. I had a single all to myself. I felt good and bad about this. Good, because I almost liked being alone in my misery, bad because I knew it was hurting my chances to make friends.
I’d heard girls laughing from down the hall, and I’d wanted so badly to go and join them. Why, then, had I wrapped myself in my comforter despite the heat and looked at my cell for hours, wondering if it was okay to call my mom?
I hadn’t. In the end, sleep had snatched me away from the world. When I woke up, I’d had this incredible desire to just go home. I wanted to be back with my mom so badly. I’d even started packing one of my bags, and checking on my laptop for bus schedules. There had to be a Greyhound or something that passed through here.
Thinking about my mom kept me from it. I wouldn’t be able to bear the disappointment in her eyes from showing up back in California. She’d pretend to be happy, and would try to console me. But we’d both know that I’d missed the opportunity of a lifetime.
My body ached deeply as I thought of my mother and home. But I couldn’t go back. Not yet, at least. I had to at least try being here, even if the people didn’t seem to like me very much, even though I didn’t seem to fit in anywhere.
I didn’t fit in anywhere at home, either. Staying home with my mom had swept me into some crack, left me stuck between what my life had been in high school and what it was supposed to turn into after.
It felt nice to be stuck, though. Well, not nice. Comforting, maybe. Certain. Here, everything seemed uncertain aside from the fact that I seemed destined to never make any friends.
“That’s a nice dress.”
I opened my eyes. A tall girl with straight, black hair stood in front of me. She was pretty, with full lips and clear green eyes. She, too, wore a dress, some summery thing that shimmered as she moved.
“Thanks! Yours too,” I said, smiling.
“Where’d you get it?”
I caught myself before telling the truth.
“It’s Prada,” I said.
She raised her eyebrow at that, “Really? I didn’t realize they were copying last summer’s line from Wal-Mart.”
I didn’t know what to say. Heat rose to my cheeks, and I couldn’t look her in the eye anymore. She sniffed and walked away. How come so much had to do with what label was on your clothes, and what the price was, and how many mansions and cottages your family owned?
I wondered how much longer this picnic was going to last. I wanted school to start. Textbooks, homework, essays, tests. I could throw myself into that stuff, social life be damned.
Classes had to be better than dorm politics. I hoped they were, at least.
Chapter 9
Had it really only been a week of classes? High school was never like this. My legs pumped as I walked from my American History lecture in the old Ross building towards my Introduction to Fiction class in the newer Arnold building.
During the day, the campus was beautiful. All the trees made it feel like I was in the middle of some forest. With the light shining down through the shivering leaves, the place was vibrant, and gr
een. Very green.
The paved walkways were never straight, always meandering in gentle curves around the tree trunks as though they were all old deer paths that had been turned into sidewalks as a matter of course.
The students seemed happier, too. They studied in the shade, or sat on and around picnic tables and benches. Their laughter and conversation mixed in with the melodious birdcalls and the cry of squirrels.
But none of them really looked at me. I walked past two girls and a guy who’d set a little blanket on the ground beside the path. I smiled at them, and they smiled back. But that was all.
It was like they could sense I was different from them. And by different I meant poor. The girls both had Louis Vuitton bags, and I bet their clothes weren’t off-label.
I was surrounded by people, but I felt even lonelier than I had back in Pasadena after all my friends drifted out of my life.
The next curve of the path revealed the Arnold building. It was a long, ultra-modern thing with walls consisting more of glass than brick. It didn’t really keep with the aesthetic of the rest of the campus, with its old gothic structures.
A group of students spewed out through the front doors as I came up, and I had to struggle my way through them.
My lecture hall was on the second floor. It had a few tiers of seating, and a whiteboard with a projection screen at the front.
Being here almost made me feel at home, and it was my favorite class so far.
I took my seat, second row right in the middle, just as other people began filing in.
Today, a girl sat beside me.
She had long red hair, very straight, that rested down past her shoulders. She also had a little stud nose ring in one nostril, and black liner all around her eyes. Those were blue, and the dark makeup made them seem so deep.
I think she was the first Goth girl I’d seen on campus. It was pretty strange, now that I thought about it. You’d think in a place with all this history there would be more angsty teens fighting back against tradition and all that.
The black shirt she wore made her skin seem even paler. But she was pretty, I had to grant, despite all her efforts to hide it.
