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toward total dorkdom.”
    “No, it really
is
cool.” Actually, everything about Cece seemed cool, which made me feel like an even bigger loser.
    She paused by the door. “I feel terrible just leaving you here, fifteen minutes after you walk through the door. Want me to call some of my friends, ask them to come over and show you around?”
    I shook my head. “No, I swear I’ll be fine. By the time you get back, I’ll have everything all unpacked and organized.”
    She bit her lower lip, then nodded. “Okay. I guess I’ll go, then.”
    “Go,” I answered with a laugh, shooing her out.
    As soon as the door closed behind her, I looked around with a sigh, surveying the blank side of the room—my new digs, such as they were. I’d never shared a room with anyone before, much less a bathroom. It was definitely going to take some getting used to, but I had a really good feeling about Cece.
    I couldn’t resist the urge to go over to her desk and straighten the magazines, though.
Vogue, Entertainment Weekly, Rolling Stone
. Yeah, we were going to get along just fine.
    Across the room, my cell phone made a chirping sound. Hurrying back to my own desk, I dug around in my bag till I found it. I expected a message from Patsy, checking to make sure that I’d arrived safely and all that. Instead I found a text from Whitney, my best friend since the very first day of kindergarten, when we’d trooped into our classroom and found our cubbies, conveniently alphabetized by first name, right next to each other. We’d sort of started to drift apart lately, mostly because she’d left Windsor for a performing arts school freshman year. She had new friends, new interests, and I had gotten increasingly busy with fencing. Still, she’d always been a phone call away.
She still is,
I reminded myself.
    I scanned her message—asking how it was going so far—and smiled. At least
someone
cared. I sent her a quick text back, promising to e-mail her as soon as I got my laptop set up.
    If I could find my laptop, that is. I glanced down at the trunks that held nearly all my earthly possessions, and sighed. Time to start unpacking.
    Morning came far too quickly. Still in my pajamas, I winced at the sight of my bloodshot eyes staring back at me in the mirror.
    “You’re going to miss breakfast if you don’t hurry and get dressed,” Cece said, eyeing me from across the room as she pulled on her shoes.
    “I know. I just . . . I didn’t get much sleep last night. New bed and all.” I’d actually lain awake most of the night, only drifting off somewhere near dawn.
    “I’ll wait for you,” she offered.
    I weighed my options. I could go down now and face the crowd—get it over with. Or I could enjoy some quiet time alone and pull myself together. Ultimately I took the coward’s way out. “It’s okay, you go on ahead. I just need some coffee.”
    “There’s a coffee machine in the lounge. At least, they call it coffee. Personally, I think they’re using the term a little too loosely.”
    I had to laugh at that. “The way I feel right now, just about anything will do. What time’s first period?”
    “Eight forty-five. What’s your first class?”
    I hadn’t even glanced at my schedule yet. “Let me see.” I grabbed my bag and rummaged through it till I found the sheet Dr. Blackwell had given me. “First period, Hackley Hall, Corridor A, Room 312. Culture and Society in Nineteenth-Century Britain.” Wow, that
was
a sophisticated-sounding course for high school.
    “That’s an advanced-level class,” Cece said, wrinkling her nose. “You must be a brainiac or something.”
    I just shrugged. I’d been called worse.
    “Anyway,” she continued, “Hackley Hall is where all the junior- and senior-level classes are held, and it’s the building just behind us. Here, give me your schedule and I’ll show you on the map.”
    I handed it over along with a pen and watched as she scanned my class list, turned it over and circled a big