“Lauren,” she said. “I love your bed! It’s so . . . you. I can just tell.”
I smiled, proud of my work and looked at Khloe’s bed—an explosion of furry zebra-print pillows and every shade of purple imaginable.
“You too!” I told her, meaning it.
Khloe put her hands on her hips. “We are going to have the best-decorated room in all of Canterwood’s campus.”
I liked the way she thought—and I genuinely did love Khloe’s side of the room—it was gorgeous, soft, and just crazy enough to be totally chic.
“You know what?” I said. “I think you’re right.”
Khloe put an arm around my shoulders. “I think we’re going to shop very well together.”
“So true,” I said, thinking about the Pottery Barn Teen credit card my parents had given me over the summer. The card was “exclusively for shopping for my dorm room”—and my emergency Visa card had come with a stern warning that if I got to school and didn’t get good grades, I’d lose both, as well as any future allowance for a long time.
“How hard are classes here?” I asked. The thought of disappointing my parents—and, okay, losing my spending privileges—made me anxious. “I came from what I thought of as a pretty tough prep school, but Canterwood’s summer homework alone was almost like a full-time job.”
“If you made it through the summer work, you’ll be fine,” Khloe said. She picked up a cheery yellow shower caddy. It was filled with shampoo, conditioner, hair styling products, face wash, shower gel, a razor and shaving cream. I noticed that we were both Bumble and bumble girls—down to the same coconut-scented shampoo.
“You’re sure?” I asked when she came back from the bathroom.
“Totally,” she said. “Look—classes are tough. But you were chosen to come here. Summer work is kind of like a big test.” She paused. “I know these twins who were admitted last year and they couldn’t finish their summer homework.”
My eyes widened. “So what happened?”
Khloe played with the cap on her Bumble and bumble Surf spray. “Headmistress Drake had to call their parents,” she said softly, setting the spray on top of her dresser.
I cringed.
“Drake told them that anyone who could not complete the summer work would certainly not be able to keep up with the pace at Canterwood. She told them to leave and the two girls went back to their old school immediately.”
“No way! How did you even hear about this?”
Khloe shifted her weight to the other foot. “Actually? They’re my sisters.”
KISMET
THE LOOK ON MY FACE MUST HAVE DONE A good job conveying how mortified I was to have brought up such a bad topic.
“Lauren, it’s okay. You didn’t kick them out!”
“I just feel bad I even brought it up. Did your family want you to leave?”
“No way,” Khloe said. “It was totally the twins’ fault. They were so excited about Canterwood because they wanted to go away and live on their own, but they didn’t take work seriously.” She shook her head. “I hope I didn’t scare you. I meant to reassure you that summer work really prepped you for this year. Canterwood moves at a crazy pace. Stay with it and stick it out. Just don’t fall behind.”
“Thanks,” I said. “For the advice, I mean. It’s a little daunting—and a lot to take in.”
“Anytime—and don’t worry so much. You’ll get used to it.” Khloe smiled and went back to our bathroom, shower curtain in hand. It was a pretty light yellow with white daisies. We’d agreed on it via e-mail.
I glanced over at her closet. It looked liked a rainbow now that she’d finished. She definitely had a bold, happy style. I liked that.
I unpacked my lamp—a très chic PBteen purchase. It had a clear acrylic base and blue lampshade that matched my bedspread. Tiny crystals dangled all around the bottom of the shade. I added a framed photo of Becca, Charlotte, Mom, Dad, and me to my nightstand. In the picture, we were all seated outdoors at a French bistro. It had been taken this summer on a trip to New York City.
I turned to a small, heavy box labeled books. I opened it up and started stacking a few books at a time on the second shelf of my nightstand.
The second I touched the cover, I knew I had it. The book that made my room feel like home. My tea guide book. Under it, I found my tea journal. They fit nicely together on my white nightstand.
Tea was my addiction. Back when we’d lived in Brooklyn, our brownstone had gotten so cold in the winter that Mom made tea to keep me and my sisters warm. She used a tea kettle to heat the water, so I knew whenever I heard the whistle that I’d soon be holding a warm mug of something delicious between my palms.
As I’d gotten older, I started to collect tea—loose and bagged—and supplies like a tea strainer and my guide book. I’d always spent some of my allowance money on trying different kinds of tea.
Khloe walked over to my nightstand. “It’s starting to look like a real room in here!” she said. “I’m so excited. Can I look at your photo and books?”
“Of course.”
I pointed out the people in the photo to Khloe. “That’s my stepdad, Gregg, my older sister Charlotte, my other older sister, Becca, and my mom.”
“Your eyes are the same color as your stepdad’s. That’s so cool.”
“Isn’t it?” I said. “He’s been my dad since I was two. My biological dad left when I was a baby. My stepdad’s the best.”
“What about your sisters?” Khloe asked.
“Becca and I are best friends. Charlotte and I don’t get along very well. She’s in college at Sarah Lawrence right now. But growing up, we were always competitive with each other. The second I started winning blue ribbons for riding, Charlotte became the star of our school’s Scholastic Bowl. I got straight As, so Charlotte got all A-pluses and tutored on the weekends. It’s just this ongoing rivalry thing between us that’s never gone away.”
Khloe frowned. “That’s awful. I mean, I’m not best friends with Hailey and Michelle—the twins,” she reminded me. “But we’re pretty close. They’ve always had the twin thing, though. Like . . . they know what the other is thinking and they do everything together and dress alike.”
Khloe got on her knees, touching the spines of my books. She pulled out one I’d read a zillion times—Fake Me a Match. I wondered if I’d even have time to read for fun here. “What about your other sister? Does she get along with Charlotte?”
“Becca is the buffer between us. I know that’s unfair to her.”
Khloe pulled Everything You Need to Know About Tea and More from my nightstand. “So,” she said. “I guess you’re not a fan of tea?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “Hate it. And the tea kettle I brought? Just for decoration.”
“I drink tea sometimes, too,” Khloe said. “I’m usually a coffee girl, but I’ve heard certain teas are good for your voice?”
“Yeah,” I said immediately. “Green tea with honey and lemon would be perfect for you before your audition. It has caffeine and would definitely soothe your throat. I’ll make you some—just remind me before the big day.”
“I’d love that.” Khloe smiled. “Thanks.”
I reached for my tea journal—a gift from my aunt. I ran my fingertips over the gorgeous cover—raised ice-blue and silver swirls. Everyone in my family knew my favorite color and always tried to find presents for me in the same shade of blue. I flipped it open to a random page.
“This,” I said, holding it out to Khloe. “is my tea journal.” She took it, peering at the page. “I write down every tea I’ve tried, ones I want to try, and if I like a tea or not. I rate them with stars.”
“Oooh.” Khloe pointed to Celestial Seasonings’ white tea with pear. It had ««««« beside it—the highest rating—five out of five. “You must really like that one.”
“It’s so good.”
Khloe flipped through the pages. “You’ll have to be my tea tutor. There are so many kinds! Like this one . . .”
She pointed to a tea three-fourths of the way through the journal. “I’ve never heard of red tea. Green, yes. But red? Is it actually red?”
“It is—and there are a ton. Oh, Khloe—you never should have asked me to teach you,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll never stop talking. You’ll run to the dorm moni tor’s office and beg for a new roommate.”
Khloe giggled. “Christina,” she acted out. “My roomie—she is obsessed with tea! It’s terrifying . I fear for my life!”
I giggled with her and Khloe looked at me mock- dramatically. “I think I’ll keep you anyway.” Khloe put back my journal and flashed me an Oscar-worthy smile. “Seriously, Lauren—I am so happy we got paired together. Total kismet!”
I smiled. But, “Kismet?” I asked.
“Meant to be!” she sang, skipping over to her bed.
“Oh,” I said, nodding in fierce agreement. “Then, ‘kismet’ it is.”
I unpacked the books I’d brought, taking two of the four built-in bookshelves in our room. Next: my desk. The beautiful white-painted wood desk had a center drawer, two curved drawers on each side, and a hutch on top.
Soon my purple HP laptop, flexible desk light, bright silver wire pen holder and matching paper holders were set up. I filled one drawer with notebooks and another with an organizer that held a stapler, paper clips, erasers, Wite-Out, and other random supplies. When I’d bought everything at Staples this summer, Becca, teasingly, had kept three feet away from me at all times, pretending not to know me as I excitedly filled an entire cart with school supplies.
“You do know that you can buy stuff online when you get to school, right?” Becca had asked.
“But then, something important might not get there in time. I mean, what if my order of highlighters doesn’t get to school by Monday? Then I have no highlighters. I won’t be able to take good notes. I’ll fail all of my classes on the first day and—”
“Okay, okay!” Becca held up her hands in a conceding gesture. “Continue to fill the cart, Canterwood girl.”
The memory made me smile and I tried to ignore the tug of sadness when I thought how far apart Becca and I were now as I finished with my desk. Once I’d finished, I looked at my side of the room. I was especially pleased with my closet where all of my clothes were color coordinated. Khloe hadn’t teased me once about my type A organization.
HOME-TYPE THINGS
BY MIDAFTERNOON, KHLOE AND I WERE BOTH exhausted.
We had put in a DVD from season one of the TV show Sing . (We’d screamed and jumped up and down when we found out we were both Sing fangirls!) I had all four seasons on DVD, Khloe had a brand-new flat-screen and a Blu-Ray player—voilà!
“Kismet, once again!” Khloe had said.
Now we were each in our beds, half watching the show and half—in my case—reeling from information and sensory overload. My eyes were just starting to go from blink to closed-for-nap when my phone buzzed. The BlackBerry Messenger sign was red.
Ana: I saw ur update on Chatter. The Sweet Shoppe looks so cool!
I sat up, already so happy to hear from someone at home it almost made me teary.
Lauren: I’m glad you saw it! And, um, HI!!! How are you? How’s everything?
Immediately, the screen lit up. Ana is writing a message . . . I waited impatiently for her response.
Ana: LOL. Hi, LT!! Nothing has changed since you left—trust me. Except it’s Sat nite & school starts on Mon. L Brielle and I r gonna miss u!
Lauren: It’ll b SO weird. Can’t imagine classes w/o u guys.
Ana: How IS it? Ur roomie? Ur room? BBM us pix.
Lauren: OK,OK! Will take TONS of pix. J It’s amazing. Whisper loves it, 2, I think. My roomie, Khloe, is so cool. Her horse’s name is Ever. Bay mare w a «. Sooo cute!
Ana: That’s great, Laur! I’m rlly glad u like Khloe. It would b awful if u guys hated each other.
Lauren: Def. R u ready for school?
Ana: OMG, thanks 2 Brielle (I think), I am TOO ready. She came over & even picked out my 1st day clothes.
Ana: I sketched Bri in action and it came out a giant blur.
Lauren: LOL.
Lauren: That’s my ‘AnaArtiste.’
I referenced her Chatter handle.
Ana: Has she BBMed u yet? Tay?
Lauren: Not yet. Prob scrambling 4 school.
Ana: I’m sure they’ll b in touch soon. We’ll all b thinking about u & missing u!
Lauren: Same.
Khloe looked over at my frantic typing. “Old friends?” she asked with a smile.
“Yeah,” I said. I returned her smile, but her use of the word “old” made me feel uneasy.
Lauren: Gotta run, but miss u and ttys!
Ana: Mwah! Ttyvs!
Lauren: VVS!
I locked my phone, shoving it back in my pocket.
I hadn’t said anything to Ana, but I felt a little down that I hadn’t heard from Brielle or Taylor. I could message them, but I was the one who’d left and I didn’t want to seem like a baby, like I was already homesick. Even though . . . technically . . . I might have been feeling a tiny bit sick. For . . . home-type things. I took a deep breath. They’d write soon.
They were just as busy as I was. Brielle was probably at the mall—her arms filled with piles of clothes—and Taylor was probably . . . no, definitely . . . in his pool, swimming laps. They weren’t going to disappear just because I’d switched schools.
“Hey,” Khloe said, catching me off guard. “Want to go make some tea?”
Homey relief rushed through me. A cup of honey vanilla chamomile tea is exactly what I need, I thought. The ingredients always calmed me down.
“That,” I said. “Is the best idea ever.”
I was beginning to realize—new friends could sometimes make you feel just as good as old ones could.
TEA? PARTY!
THE COMMON ROOM IN HAWTHORNE LOOKED like something out of Charlotte’s Sarah Lawrence catalog.
A bunch of students were inside, two on a sectional sofa-slash-chaise watching the flat-screen mounted on the pastel purple–painted wall. Others, curled up in recliners, read or texted. The room, which I’d expected to feel institutional, felt warm and inviting.
There were shelves of books and DVDs, a couple of gaming systems and a full kitchen. While I warmed the kettle on the stove, Khloe sat on the counter, talking to one of the girls I’d met this morning. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember her name!
Once I’d finished making the tea, I made my way to Khloe and . . . and . . . ugh! I was going to seem so rude if I made it obvious I didn’t know her name. I tried, telepathically, to make Khloe say her name the second I got over to them.
“This looks fun!” Khloe said, taking tea boxes from my hand. “Like we should have a tea party or something.”
What was her name?!
The girl brushed a stray curl out of her face and smiled at me. “I know we met in the frenzy of this morning. But you’ve probably met a million people today. My name is Lexa Reed. Friend of drama-queen Khloe Kinsella.”
I breathed a huge sigh of relief.
“Lexa, of course! I’m Lauren Towers. New roommate of drama-queen Khloe Kinsella.”
“Towers—aha! That’s why Khlo’s been calling you ‘LT,’” said Lexa.
I raised an eyebrow at Khloe.
“That’s right,” Khloe said, pointing at me. “You have been nicknamed. I declared it so.”
I looked at Lexa. “I guess I’ve been nicknamed.” I laughed, not having the heart to tell her people called me “LT” all the time.
Lexa laughed, too. She had an awesome laugh, one of those super infectious laughs, even when no one knows why she’s laughing.
“I think,” Lexa said. “that you’ve been Khloe’d in general.”
“Is that a good thing, being ‘Khloe’d’?” Khloe asked amid all of our laughter. “Or a bad thing?”
“Definitely good,” Lexa said. She squeezed Khloe’s hand with hers. “We al
l need a little Khloe in our lives.”
“Agreed,” I said, raising my hand to vote.
Khloe grinned. She looked very proud of herself. “Oooh! Is the tea ready?” she asked.
I nodded, handing her a mug.
“Want any?” I offered Lexa.
“Thanks! I’d love some,” Lexa said, accepting the mug. “My roommate, Jill, is still unpacking. I could use a break.”
“We really should have a tea party!” Khloe said. She held out her mug, extra daintily. “I’ve never practiced sipping tea like a lady. Who knows? It might come up in an audition.”
Lexa’s eyes met mine. She gave me a she really is like this all the time look.
“A tea party sounds fabulous,” I said.
“Feel free to choose a tea,” I said, offering Lexa a box filled with an array of my favorite white teas, plus, a couple of black ones.
“Khloe, I made you honey vanilla chamomile and sweetened it with clove honey, like mine. Next time, I’ll make you Earl Grey and serve it with Hobnobs so you can practice for your lead in a period drama.”
Lexa’s eyes widened. “Hobnobs? You really know your stuff!”
“Seriously?” I asked. “You know what Hobnobs are?”
I’d never met anyone else who knew about the yummy chocolate-coated cookies that were popular in the UK.
“I lived in London for a long time with my family— Hobnobs were my fave!”
Khloe looked at the two of us as though we were aliens. “Why are you guys speaking a weird language?” she asked, taking a tentative sip of her tea. “Oooh! Yum!”
“You look shocked,” I said, holding my hand to my chest in mock offense. “And Hobnobs are these amazing cookies—”
“Covered in chocolate!” Lexa cut in.
“Exactly.” I nodded. “British people serve them with tea.”
“Sounds delish,” Khloe said, sipping her tea again. “And for the record, I’m impressed, not shocked.”
Lexa turned to me. “So, I used to live in London, but how did you find out about Hobnobs?”
“Weird language,” Khloe repeated. “But to answer your question, LT knows about the weird cookies because she knows absolutely everything and anything about all things tea.”
Initiation Page 4
