Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Tarian couldn’t stay long. It was barely twenty minutes after she arrived there when the sky began to turn pink and red, and she knew if she was stuck down here after sunset she’d never find her way back up.

She scrambled deftly up the rock, picking her way back along the path she had come down. It wasn’t that difficult, only stumping her once or twice. It was a puzzle, a puzzle with a definite answer and an unchanging security.

She looked down at her feet, trying to secure a foothold for the final bit—she had just jumped on the way down, it was a little harder to get up. Just as she found a foothold, a palm appeared under her face.

She gasped, slipping, but the hand caught her arm and steadied her. She looked up at him, her mouth settling into a thin line.

“Need a hand?”

She took it hesitantly, securing her footholds while he pulled up at the same time. He easily pulled her over the lip of the cliff.

She jerked free of his hand once she was on sure footing. “Thanks,” she told him, moving back to the path.

He followed her. “What were you doing out here?”

She didn’t stop. “Nothing.”

“Looking for me?”

She turned to face him. “No, Hunter, I wasn’t. I asked you to leave me alone.”

His face turned dark. He was handsome, and she wasn’t as immune to it as she wanted to be. He had thick wavy black hair that grew a little too long, shadowing his face, making his dark brown eyes seem darker. “You didn’t mean that.”

Her eyes grew slightly wider, and he saw fear, dark and swirling, in her blue eyes. His jaw worked, and he looked away from her. He crossed his arms. “What were you doing out on the rocks?”

“It’s not your business.”

He shook his head. “You need to be more careful. And until you prove that you are, I won’t be far behind.”

“No. Leave me alone. I mean it, Hunter.”

He didn’t move, raising one eyebrow at her. “Or what, you’ll call the cops?”

She swallowed. She rubbed one arm and looked away from him. “Please,” she asked quietly. “I don’t want to see you, Hunt. I’m begging you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper.

He stood still, his jaw working, desperately wanting to go to her, to touch her, but everything that had happened between them prevented him. His crossed arms flexed lightly. “238 West Hadley,” he said.

“What?”

“My room. When you need me.”

She shook her head, turning back down the path and going quickly inside. He stayed, watching, waiting until the light turned on in her room. She appeared briefly at the window, meeting his eyes for a second before drawing the curtain.

“Where did you disappear to?” Xana asked, opening the door to find Tarian at her computer.

Tarian shut the laptop. “Fresh air,” she said with a shrug.

“Well it was brilliant. Every guy there wanted to know the deal with you,” Xana said. “Elizabeth was absolutely speechless with jealousy. She tries so hard you know. Doesn’t have a boyfriend.”

“Neither do you.”

“Yes. But I explained that earlier, didn’t I? Allie wanted to speak to you, but I said that you spilled something on you and had to change. She said she’d catch up with you later.”

“Is she cool?”

“No. She’s that girl, you know, the suck up, the goody two shoes. Thinks she’s so squeaky clean. But Ben’s my cousin, so Allison Stone will let us do whatever we want.” Xana went over to Tarian’s closet, opening it up. Tarian jerked up. “Now, put…this on,” she told her, taking a black drop-waist dress from the closet.

Tarian pushed the door shut as soon as Xana’s hands were clear. “Stay out of my closet,” Tarian told her.

Xana laughed. “Oh please. Put that on, we’re going out. And put your hair down.” She tossed the dress on the bed.

“Out?”

Xana nodded. “Yeah. Beach party.”

“You can get onto the beach?”

“Farther down. Now hurry, we’re going to be late.”

“What about curfew?”

“We already arranged it. The housemaster and house mistress agree that school hasn’t technically started yet, so curfew doesn’t apply.”

“Yeah right.”

Xana lifted a shoulder. “I’m not saying their agreement came cheap.”

Tarian waited until Xana turned her back to change, throwing the dress quickly over her head to hide the ridges of bruises on her sides. She pulled on soft leather ballet flats; the fall in New England had already set in, and the nights would be too cold for sandals. “Do I need cash?” Tarian asked, opening her purse.

She smiled. “All will be provided for. I thought you were putting your hair down.”

Tarian shrugged, throwing her cell phone and a little cash into her clutch. “Are we waiting for the others?”

Xana lifted a shoulder. “They can make their own entrance. Let’s go.”

They made it outside the door, which Tarian double checked to see if it was locked, before Xana’s phone started buzzing. She fished it out of her purse and flipped it open, reading the text. “Come on,” she urged Tarian, quickly thumbing a reply on the phone and dashing down the stairs.

Xana led her outside, and standing on the steps was a tall guy with slightly crispy and spiked dark hair. He turned fierce blue eyes to them and his cut body followed, clad nicely in designer jeans and a wrinkled, artfully relaxed blue button down. “Hey X,” he said.

Xana rolled her eyes. “I told you, Hen, it’s Xana.”

“This year. And don’t call me Hen. It sounds so gay.”

She crossed her arms. “Don’t be rude.”

He nodded his head up to Tarian. “You must be the new girl.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’m Tarian.”

“Tarian, this is my brother, Henry. Henry, this is my new creation.”

Henry’s eyes raked over Tarian. “Not much left to create.”

“Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of an entrance?” Henry asked. “Fashionably late?”

Xana flipped her hair, glaring at her brother over her shoulder. “Please. Fashionably late is for people that need a reason for people to look at them. I don’t, and therefore, I prefer as much time as possible to be seen.” She snapped her fingers. “Come.”

Henry rolled his eyes, but trotted after them as Tarian followed Xana.

“So, Tarian, where are you from?”

“Not far from here.”

“Oh really?”

She nodded. “How about you?”

“We’re from New York. Apparently money’s better when it’s coming from New York.”

“Hardly,” Xana said. “It’s just better spent. There’s nothing around here. I mean Boston at least has some decent shopping, but it’s still a pale comparison.” She shook her head, causing a cascade of red hair to catch the retreating light from the dorms as she stomped down the path leading to the fields.

“I thought Dad doesn’t want you spending as much anyway.”

She shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t cancel the plastic, who cares what he wants?”

Henry shook his head. “At least you still have to take the train back and forth to Boston.”

“Oh don’t worry, I generally find someone to carry things for me. And who knows, maybe he’ll skip Christmas and I’ll get a car.”

“You don’t even have your license.”

“I’ll get it if I get a car.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to ask me for a ride?”

“Please,” she rejected, throwing up a hand. The trail opened into the main sports complex, and Xana began cutting across it.

“What, embarrassed to be seen with your older brother? I’m a senior and the quarterback this year, Xana. You can’t do much better than me.”

“I figured it out last year, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, well he graduated. Let’s see who you get to be your lackey this year. Especially since you can’t date the quarterback.”

She narrowed her eyes but didn’t look back at him. Tarian maintained her silence.

It wasn’t far from the field to the beach. The forest covered their tracks well, the trees breaking into a steep, rocky stretch and then a small, flat, sandy beach, well hidden by the darkening land around it. A huge bonfire was being built and metal buckets were ground into the sand, filled with ice, beer, and tequila.

“Xana!” called a voice. A square-jawed, bulky giant appeared from around the bonfire, grabbing four beers and coming over. He passed one to Xana with a wink and a generous smile, one to Tarian and nodded as he passed one to Henry.

Xana sighed. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this, Jake?”

The smile slung slightly to the side as he pulled out a lighter and deftly flipped the cap off with it. He handed it back to her, and she took it, unimpressed. “And Tarian’s,” she said. “You’re so rude.”

Henry was quicker, pulling out his keychain. “I got it covered, Jake,” Henry said, catching the beer. He covered one of her hands with his own and hooked the top off. He smiled at her. She raised her beer in thanks, and Henry took a deep drink of his.

“See, babe, he had it covered. I wasn’t being rude.”

“Ugh. Do not call me babe,” she told him, walking past him. He followed behind, happy to chase her.

Henry stepped closer to Tarian. “So you’re the transfer, right?”

Tarian looked at him, noting how close he’d gotten. She nodded.

“Where’d you go before?”

“My local public.”

“How come you transferred?”

“AP classes,” she told him flatly.

He chuckled. “Parents, huh?”

Her mouth fell into a flat line.

“Yeah my parents are a total drag. They spend most of their time flying around the world, though, so I’m not too bothered by it.”

“They’re your family,” she told him, her voice suddenly cold. “You should care about your family.”

She took a sip of her beer, turning and walking away from him as Elizabeth and Liz arrived.

“Hey, Tarian!” called Liz, taking her hand as soon as she was close enough. “Oh my god, was Henry Lyon talking to you?”

“Don’t be stupid, Liz,” Elizabeth snapped. Her eyes narrowed. “Nice of you guys to leave without telling us.”

“You two have never spoken to Henry Lyon?” Tarian asked. “But he’s Xana’s brother.”

“So? We are so not even in his orbit,” Liz sighed. “And he’s gorgeous.”

“He seems full of himself.”

Elizabeth scoffed. “He should be. There’s a lot to be full of. Do you know he’s going to Cambridge next year? Cambridge.”

“The application process hasn’t even begun yet. How could he possibly be accepted?” Tarian asked.

Elizabeth shrugged. “He’s that good.”

Tarian shook her head. “It’s obviously just a rumor.”

“You’ve been at this school, what, five minutes? Obviously you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Tarian felt her cell buzzing and, rather than countering the girl, she pulled out her phone and read the text.

Come to the other side of the bonfire. Don’t bring the lizzes. X

Tarian’s brow furrowed. She hadn’t even given Xana her number. Not like that would have stopped her. Curious, she shrugged and looked up.

“Excuse me,” she told the girls.

Elizabeth muttered something in her wake but Tarian didn’t hear it. She skirted around the fire. She held tight to her beer, knowing enough that as long as she had one in her hand, another wouldn’t be forced on her. She wasn’t really interested in drinking.

The heat from the fire was warm on her side as she located Xana, sitting cozily with Skye and keeping Jake at arms length. A different boy had his arm around Skye’s waist. Xana nodded her over.

She started toward them when her eyes drifted past. Hunter was there, standing with some friends. He met her eyes, lifting his beer in her direction. A little blonde across from him followed his gaze and glared at her. Tarian looked away, going quickly to Xana.

“Jake, slide down. I want Tarian to sit next to me,” Xana said. She had softened a little and gave him a smile instead of a sneer.

“Sure babe,” he told her with a grin, sliding down on the sand-submerged log. “Need a hand?” he asked Tarian, helping her to sit. Tarian didn’t miss his eyes drifting down her back as she sat, but ignored it, turning to Xana.

“You rang?” she asked, cocking her cell in her hand.

Xana smiled brilliantly, and Skye giggled. “I hope you don’t mind. You looked bored.”

“How’d you get my number? And I was hardly bored.”

Xana shook her hair back, aware that Jake was charting her every move. “Hey I needed it, what’s a girl to do.”

“Um, excuse me, was that just me or did you have a moment with Hunter Bradley?” Skye asked.

Tarian’s pulse jumped as she said his name. Trying to keep her expression blank, she asked, “Who?”

“The tall dark and titled over there?” Xana chimed in.

“Hunter has a title?” Skye asked.

Xana nodded. “His mother was the daughter of a count apparently. They have a castle in Europe.” Xana glanced back to him, then to Tarian. “My powers are impressive, Tarian, but even I don’t think I could score you that. Rumor has it he has a girlfriend back home.”

“I heard he has a record,” Skye whispered.

“Ha,” Jake laughed. “For what, graffiti? Kid’s a lame ass.”

“And who’s that blonde that’s totally plastered onto him?”

“Plastered in general,” Xana tossed in.

“Ellie Thomas,” Jake said. “Senior.”

“Shut up, that is not Ellie Thomas!” Skye hissed, craning around her boyfriend to look. “She’s lost like sixty pounds over the summer!”

“Someone discovered the joys of anorexia,” Xana said, raising her eyebrows. “If you like him, Tarian, I can totally blow that wide open. She’ll get sent to a facility, and that will be that.”

“No,” Tarian said quickly.

Skye’s boyfriend murmured something in her ear, tightening his arms around her midriff and squeezing her against him. Skye laughed. “Oh right,” she said with a bright smile. She turned to them with a wide sweep of her beach blonde hair. “Tarian, this is Brett, my boyfriend.” She bit her lip with a wide smile. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

Tarian managed a small smile and nodded to him. “Nice to meet you.”

Xana rolled her eyes. “Skye, don’t tell me you’re already drunk.”

Skye smiled wide but didn’t deny it, and with a throaty laugh Brett started kissing her neck. She turned and kissed him.

“Jake, I think I need another drink if I’m going to watch this all night,” Xana moaned. She batted her lashes slowly at him, stretching her legs out over the sand. “Go get me one?”

He stood with a side-slung grin. “Of course. Tarian too?”

“No.”

“Of course,” Xana said, taking Tarian’s beer and tossing it toward the ocean. “Hers was obviously too warm.”

“Be right back. And if you still don’t want to watch them going at it, I’m sure I can think of something to distract you.” He turned to go and Tarian and Xana exchanged looks.

Skye broke off with her boyfriend long enough to laugh. “He did not just say that,” she giggled.

“I think I make all men stupid,” Xana sighed.

Skye laughed. “Stupid for you, darling, not stupid in general.”

“This seat taken?” Henry slid into place beside Tarian, his hip butting hers. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, his eyes sliding to her lips with a grin. She looked away.

“Couldn’t find anyone else to talk to?” Xana asked.

“Didn’t look like you were enjoying your beer, Tarian, so I scrounged up something else for you.” He produced a bottle of champagne. “You’ll have to share it with me, though.” He flashed her a charming grin, but she didn’t like the idea of drinking with him and definitely didn’t like how close he was sitting to her. She shrank closer to Xana a little but Xana wouldn’t budge.

“You didn’t like your beer, Tarian?” Xana asked. “You should have said—it’s totally unacceptable for you to be sober at the beginning of the year. I’ll keep my eye on you now,” she promised.

“Don’t worry, baby sis, I got it covered,” Henry promised her. He turned from Tarian a little as he pulled off the wire basket and pressed his thumb to the cork.

It popped off with a sharp bang and Tarian gasped, jumping. Henry laughed as the champagne bubbled up and spilled. He took a deep swig and passed it to her.

Her eyes were wide and Henry saw her hands shaking hard. She jumped up. “I have to pee,” she excused. “Be right back.”

She dashed off down the beach, ducking into the sand dunes, trying to catch her breath. She was hyperventilating, shaking uncontrollably.

All she could hear was that gunshot, over and over in her head, an endless refrain of death and horror, and a sickening relief.

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Tarian didn’t attend anything she didn’t have to. There was a welcome brunch for transfer students that she didn’t even consider going to. There was an afternoon meet and greet for juniors that wasn’t mandatory, so she skipped it. She stayed in her room, slowly unpacking, as if putting everything in its proper place would make her suddenly understand how to make her life right again.

Xana came into the room in the late afternoon, laughing as she parted ways with some other girls. “Yeah, definitely!” she called, responding to a question Tarian hadn’t heard.

She walked in and put her bag on her bed. She looked at Tarian’s side of the room, raising her eyebrows. “Well, you’ve been busy.”

Tarian crossed her arms, skating her eyes over Xana and then out the window, looking at the large tree, the ground beneath it lush and green but empty.

“You are aware you’re not allowed to shack up in here all day. I mean, I need my privacy too.”

Tarian looked at her.

“And there’s the dorm dinner in an hour. You do have to go to that so I can flaunt you.”

Tarian pushed off from the wall, sitting at her desk and opening her computer. Her desk faced her bed, so she could still see Xana. “Flaunt me?”

“Absolutely. I told you before. I’m creating you.”

Tarian’s thin mouth settled into a line. “You don’t know who I am, Xana. You don’t get to play games with someone else’s life.”

Xana laughed. “Of course I do,” she replied. “Now, I’m perfectly fine with this whole closed-mouth routine—it just adds mystery. So at the dorm dinner, don’t talk too much, and look haughty and fabulous—which seems to be your signature look.”

Tarian shook her head slowly, looking back at her computer screen.

“Oh, and put the hair down. It will work for you.”

Tarian shook her head, not looking up from the screen.

Xana rolled her eyes, unpacking a bit before she sat on her bed with a fashion magazine.

Xana’s battalion of friends arrived just before the appointed hour, knocking on the door to call Xana down to dinner. Xana opened the door with a bright smile, and allowed them in.

“Oh, my, god, Xana you have the best room,” panted one, rushing over to the huge bay window. She had long, dyed blonde hair and flashed a smile at Tarian, who shut her laptop.

“You really do,” another said. This one had long, dark brown hair in perfectly styled waves that looked startlingly like a brunette version of Xana’s. The third girl was tiny, barely five two and thin as a rail, with thin blonde hair that was so pale it was nearly translucent.

“Hi,” said the little one, going over to Tarian. She held out her hand, and Tarian looked at it for a moment. “I’m Liz. Well, Lisette, technically. I’m not really an Elizabeth.”

“I’m Elizabeth,” said the tall brunette. “The tacky blonde in the window is Skye.”

“Oh shut up, ‘Lizabeth. You’re such a bitch,” the blonde countered, swinging her hair over her shoulder to look back with a good natured smile.

Elizabeth smiled back with an arched brow. “We can’t wait to hear everything about you, Tarian.”

“What about Tara?” Skye prompted. “It’s so Gone With the Wind.”

“What’s wrong with Tarian?” Liz asked.

Elizabeth scowled at her. “It’s too long. And we already have one long name in the group. Mine.” She looked to Xana for backup on this, but Xana lifted a shoulder disinterestedly.

“It’s my name,” Tarian said.

“So? You don’t hear anyone calling her Alexandra. You don’t hear anyone calling Marilyn Monroe Norma effing Jean, now do you?”

Xana rolled her eyes. “Don’t say effing, it’s stupid.”

Elizabeth shot a glare at Xana. “Regardless. A name means something.”

“She’s Tarian. I like it, it’s unusual. If you’re worried about the syllable count of the group, maybe we should start calling you Beth,” Xana suggested with a shrug. “Maybe you should take something, Elizabeth, you sound a little tense.”

Elizabeth bit back an insulted face as Xana stood.

“Let’s go.”

Tarian watched the other girls file out of the room, following behind them and locking the door with one last look out to the huge tree and the empty grass beneath it.

There were roughly sixty students filling the first floor lounge. They were strewn everywhere, covering the slightly worn but still grand furniture, donations from a wealthy past era, the oriental rugs, blocking some of the light from the fourteen foot windows. Pizza boxes stood unopened on a back table, guarded by a matronly woman, a middle-aged man, Ben, and a girl in a perfectly pleated skirt, cashmere v-neck and black velvet headband bracing back lustrous brown, precisely straight hair.

Tarian saw Xana nod to Ben. Ben smiled and nodded back to her.

Tarian knew that there were students in almost every seat, and no one seemed to move—there was no parting of the Red Sea, no movie moment where the students suddenly vacated—but by the time Xana reached the semi-circle of couches, an entire plush couch had been cleared and Xana and her girls sat down carefully.

Tarian hung back, and Xana caught her eye, and pointed at the remaining seat. Tarian hesitated, but sat.

“Alright, everyone,” called Ben, stepping farther forward. He raised a clipboard like it would help dull the noise. The noise dimmed slightly, then rose again.

“Guys, shut up,” Xana said.

Like a row of dominoes falling around her, everyone went quiet.

Tarian raised an eyebrow.

“Alright everyone, before you dig into the pizza, we have a couple things to go over. I’m Ben, I’m the President for West Hadley this year. Allie Turner is the ladies’ president for Hadley East, and Ms. Foster is housemistress for the East wing and Mr. Kennedy is the housemaster for West.

“Ground rules. No smoking in the dorms, that’s pretty much a given, especially since I hope you all realize that these dorms are old enough that they’re probably insulated with hay. Dry hay. You’re basically in the hall of kindling.” He smiled briefly, and someone coughed.

“Yeah. I’m sure you all got the letter home this summer; Headmaster Radcliffe has dropped the three strikes policy in favor of a two strikes policy. The first time you get caught drinking, smoking, having sex, sneaking out, breaking curfew or any other activity for which you are underage or is against the law, you will be on probation and have mandatory study hours between six and ten every night. The second time you are caught, your case will be passed on to the authorities and you will be kicked out.

Mutters and whispers flew around the room at this.

“Please remember that the Hall curfew is ten pm. You do not have to be in bed at this time, but you do have to be inside the hall. After ten pm the doors will be locked. After eleven pm the lounge must be vacated and all girls must be in East and all boys must be in West. The lounge—which I’m sure you’ve all realized is the only way to pass through to the opposite wing—will be locked at that time.”

Ben gave a quick nod, and Allie stepped up, smoothing her skirt and flashing a bright smile. “We will be having monthly dorm meetings, right here, and you will get a schedule for these shortly via email. The cleaning crew comes to Hadley every Thursday morning, please have your sheets and laundry in your laundry bags, and have the floor as clean as possible so they can vacuum. They come from ten am to eleven am, but every person in this dorm should have a class then, so if you’re thinking about skipping, you will be woken up.

“Weekends there will be buses running from here to the mall, the grocery store and pharmacy, and the times for those will be posted on the main board right out front. Also, if you have any emergent need to go to those places in the middle of the week, there’s a list of cab numbers and the town pharmacy is right outside the gates. You can use the lounge for functions, but you have to clear that with us first.

“Now, please remember, guys, that though we are in a position of authority over you, we are here to support you and make sure that your life in Hadley is enjoyable and productive. Let us know if you need anything. Any questions?”

No one so much as murmured, and Ben nodded. “Okay. Line up and grab some pizza, and try not to get it all over the furniture.”

Tarian stood, and the shuffle of bodies caught her, dividing her from Xana and the others. She allowed it, slipping away through the crowd. She pulled away from the throng as she walked to the door, breathing deeply as the air cleared. She glanced briefly at the noisy youths, and turned away, opening the door.

She skirted quickly around the building, avoiding the huge windows. Without really thinking about it, her feet carried her to the tree beneath her window.

As she rounded the corner and the tree came into view, she felt a little disappointed. She knew he wouldn’t be here; he would have his own dorm meeting. He couldn’t read her mind.

A cold, bracing wind blew across her face, bending the branches of the tree in noisy refrain. She could smell the salt on the wind.

She swallowed the lump in her throat, walking toward the patch of uncut field grass that grew wild around the thick trees. The path became darker as she moved into the shade of the arching trees. There was a lightly trampled path that she walked along. The wind was colder as she moved forward, and she welcomed the numbness that came along with it.

The trees cleared with no warning, and right behind the tree line the cliff dropped off, the stone crashing into the waves that scrabbled over its hard surface. The line of the cliff was jagged—just beyond her feet it had receded into a small inlet, while to her left it jutted out into a promontory, and below the cliff, a jetty extending a hundred feet into the water. There was no beach, no sandy shore, just waves pounding hard against a bed of rocks, probably crumbled from the cliff at the hands of older pounding waves. The white capped water licked around black rocks hidden just beneath the surface.

It was dangerous water.

Where the inlet met the promontory, the cliff rock formed almost a right angle, and the rock had progressively crumbled more and more there. It was the only place the rock wasn’t a sheer face.

She squinted at it. She could see some flatter places that she could climb to, and she started navigated a path around the drops and crags.

She began climbing. She was wearing flats without much traction, and the rocks were slick with sea mist. She pressed her hands against the rocks to lever herself down, and the rocks were cool and hard against her palms.

Half slipping, half climbing down the rocks, she finally settled on a flat part pressed back into the rock. There was a little puddle of water to one side, so she sat clear of that, tucking her legs up. She couldn’t see the cliff, and was fairly sure she couldn’t be seen from above. The roar of the ocean was loud and seemed to be emanating from the rock itself, circling her, canceling out all other noise. The water was turbulent, and she watched it rise and crash on the jetty, on the wet rocks, and, lost in its rhythm, she breathed deeply for the first time in days.

Diary of a Teenage Murderess, Chapter One

She sighed as the train pulled up to the station. She stood near the door, balancing her duffel over her suitcase and trying to shoulder her computer bag at the same time. It slid down, hooking in her elbow and jerking her to one side.

She threw it back up on shoulder again, hitting the guy behind her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

He muttered something in return.

The doors slid open, and cooler air hit her. She pulled her suitcase over the lip of the train and it jumped and leaned onto one wheel, twisting her arm and falling over.

She let it go, putting her other bags down and staring at it. She kicked it with one Ugg wedge. It was such a short time ago that she had been so excited to buy the bag, so excited to see the train station, and now everything had changed. Everything was different, and the last thing she wanted was to face a new school-especially the one school with him in it.

Once outside the station, there was a line of taxis waiting to ferry students over to the school, and she hopped in one while the driver loaded her bags in the back. She leaned her head against the sticky leather and closed her eyes, trying to pull up her courage and resolve. The driver’s door opened and she opened her eyes.

“Which dorm?” the driver asked.

“Hadley, please,” she said.

He gave a nod and put the idling car in drive, pulling out of the line.

It was barely a five minute journey to her hall, and she didn’t say anything, staring out as the large, gated estate revealed itself. Lush ivy had overtaken the old wrought iron fencing, so it was a solid wall of dark green until the archway. Only a single car could pass through at a time, and it was move-in day for freshmen, so her cabbie had to wait in line, slowly rolling closer and closer to the view the gate provided. Every time the cab rolled forward and halted, it was reminding her that she didn’t have to do this, she didn’t have to come here. She could stop right then and turn back.

When it was their turn, she held her breath as they went through. No trees fell nor lightning crashed, nothing impeded her way. Nothing would intercede on her behalf to keep her from traveling down the wrong path.

Hadley was one of the oldest buildings on campus. It had originally housed the whole school when it was instituted in 1882, but since then it had been gutted and made into the most exclusive dorm on campus. Made entirely of stone, it sat regally on the top of the hill, all the rest of the school falling out in front of it. Less than a hundred feet behind it, the land dropped off a cliff and fell into the Atlantic. The rooms that faced east were harder to get than a New York apartment.

The freshman dorm was in a frenzy, cars parked wherever they felt it best to stop, and hapless volunteers trying to direct the traffic, couches, rugs, and duffel bags to no avail.

The taxi pulled past the freshman dorms, past the library and various academic buildings, past the monolithic sports complex, up the old cobbled path to Hadley. She pulled her sweater a little closer to her, sucking in a deep breath.

“Y’a'right?” the cabbie asked, jamming three words down into one.

“Fine.” Two spots of color appeared on her cheeks as she coolly returned his gaze until he looked forward again. Once his eyes left hers, she looked away, swallowing hard. She couldn’t slip like that, not if this was ever going to work.

She pulled out a slip of paper from her purse. Room 312.

“Four fifty,” the cabbie told her, pulling to a stop in front of the dorm. She passed him six dollars and got out, going to the trunk. He met her there, hauling her bags out and putting them on the curb. “Good luck!” he told her with a grin.

She didn’t respond as he left, going instead to her bags and beginning to precariously pile them on top of one another.

“Oh, hey, I’ve got that,” called a voice. She turned to see a tall boy in a lime green “Moving Day!” shirt run over to her. He grabbed her large suitcase and duffel. “What’s your room number?”

“312,” she told him.

“Yup, you’ll need the dumbwaiter. Only Res Life has the key to it. I’ll shove this stuff in there and you meet it on the third floor, ok?”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“What’s your name?”

“Tarian.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ben. I’m the Dorm President in Hadley West for the year.”

She raised one eyebrow, quickly scanning over him again. “Nice to meet you. Thanks for the bag help.”

He gave her a smile and pulled her bag up the wide stone steps. She lingered behind, looking up at the dorm. The heavy stone walls blocked out the sun, the light filtering through the leafy green trees that arched over the building. This place had kept the secrets of thousands of students before, their legacies and indiscretions all soaked into the sturdy stone.

Tarian sighed. What was one more?

Tarian’s room was huge. Two twin beds flanked either side of a huge bay window, complete with a well-worn window-seat. Previous tenants had worn the wood smooth in places, and she threw her stuff haphazardly on the bed before going over to it. She slid into one of the seats, putting her feet up and looking out.

The ocean looked so tame from her glass perch, gray-green waves rising and undulating. The sky got darker as the horizon extended, thickening into a smudge of dark rain clouds.

Tarian scanned her eyes downward, pulling her focus in closer. A figure walking near the bushes that divided the cliff from the dorm caught her eye, in a black jacket and dark jeans. He paused and turned directly toward her window.

Their eyes met. He had to be at least a fifty feet away from her, but she felt exposed, vulnerable. He nodded to her and she pulled away from the window, shrinking into the darkness of her room.

She leaned against the wall. Surely it wouldn’t be like this-she couldn’t possibly see him every day? She had to be able to avoid him, or she would never pull it off.

“Tarian?”

She turned to the doorway as it opened to reveal a grinning redhead.

“Tarian Ward, right?”

Tarian nodded. “Yeah. You must be Alexandra?”

“Yes!” She strode confidently into the room, tossing her hair and smiling in a way that was both practiced and devious. “Though I’m going by Xana now. Sort of like Xanax-with more flair. Alex is so 1990, don’t you think?”

Tarian lifted a shoulder. “It’s a name,” she said.

Alexandria raised her eyebrow. “Yeah, and whoever said that rose-would-smell-as-sweet crap was severely mistaken. A name is a brand.” She flashed a smile. “And brand recognition is the name of the game.”

“So I should call you Xana then?”

“Yeah. Doesn’t it sound a little bit like Xena, too?”

Tarian paused. “It sounds similar because it’s nearly the same word.”

Xana laughed. “Yeah.”

Xana threw her stuff onto the vacant bed and went over to Tarian’s desk, taking the folder there and sitting on Tarian’s bed. She opened it and crossed her legs to rest it on her knee.

“You have English Lit with Tamlin? Me too. Fabulous. That class is going to be incredible. Tamlin is really hot.”

“A teacher?”

“He’s like twenty five. Twenty eight at the very most. Not married and gorgeous.”

Tarian raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, looking out the window again. He was gone.

“So what do I have to know about you, Tarian?” She looked back to see Xana staring at her with a wicked gaze. “Other than what I can already tell, I mean.”

Tarian crossed her arms. “Which is?”

“You’re rich. You have excellent taste, too, which is fantastic-I was praying not to have another roommate with Juicy Couture sweats. How New Jersey is that? Your hair color is natural, which is a fabulous shade by the way, and you’re a little prickly, but I kind of like it. I know you’re a transfer, so I’m hoping you have some deep dark secret that we can bond over.”

Tarian smiled a little. “What else is there to add to that, really?”

“You’re not a lesbian or anything are you? I’d like to know that up front.”

Tarian shook her head. “No.”

“You didn’t bring a TV, did you? Because I brought a plasma, and really it’s just silly to compete with me.” She met Tarian’s eyes. “Over anything. Speaking of, do you have a boyfriend?”

Tarian’s smile tightened. “No.”

“Well that can be fixed easily enough. You’re hot, it will only take a second. Cardinal rule of Weslington Prep-you are who you date.”

“And who are you dating, then?”

Xana rolled her eyes. “I’m between boyfriends at the moment. I used to date this senior who was National Merit Scholar, captain of the football team, and the son of a shipping magnate. But he graduated and went off to Yale, so it’s kind of hard to find a worthy replacement. I have a standard to maintain.” She grinned, leaning back on the bed. “He still sends me love notes from time to time, but it’s not like we’re exclusive. I just accept any and all jewelry. But you’re the mystery girl. We can get a lot of mileage out of that fact. No one here knows who you are, so we can totally create you. High school is a clean slate for you, Tarian, and trust me, I can write you a story that will have everyone begging.”

Tarian nodded, looking down. Clean slates were given to the invisible kids seeking to climb the social ladder, geeks who just developed into jocks, and maybe even the occasional teen who got pregnant.

High school, in some ways, was just like the legal system. No matter how hard you tried or how long you waited, the statute of limitations never ran out.

There would never be a time when a murderess would be given a clean slate.

Letter to a Younger Self

*Please don’t reprint without written permission.*

Ten years after I was thirteen, one of my old teachers mailed me a letter I had written to my 23 year old self. The letter was full of silly things like who I had a crush on (much to big of a secret to reveal here) and how much I totally hated my brothers. I wished I could write back to her and say these thirteen things.

1. Your Beanie Babies will end up in a box in your closet. (Except for the elephant. You seem to really like the elephant). They are not a financial investment, I’m sorry.

2. Similarly, don’t get too attached to your Tamagotchi. It will get confiscated by a teacher who doesn’t understand that without you pressing buttons your digital picture of a turtle will die.

3. I know this whole changing schools thing is tough, and you’re leaving your friends behind, but life has some amazing surprises in store for you in terms of friendship. One of your friends from your old school will be your best friend ten years from now, and it’s definitely not the one you expect.

4. When everyone’s giving you grief because you’re holed up in your room writing stories, don’t pay attention. It will work out pretty good for you. I know you’re only doing it because sometimes, your characters are the only ones you can count on to always be there when you need them, and that’s perfectly ok.

5. Both your brothers cease to be so annoying after you all make it through puberty alive.

6. You aren’t going to marry your crush (or even date him), but that doesn’t mean you have to stop crushing.

7. This divorce thing isn’t going to get easier for a really long time, and I’m sorry about that. I wish I could be there with you, but it doesn’t work like that unfortunately. You’re going to go through a lot of this feeling completely alone. You have to keep believing that it will get better. Its going to get a little worse, and then, little by little, its going to get a lot better. You’ll all figure out how to be a family again.

8. It’s ok that you’re hurting. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t strong enough. It doesn’t mean that you aren’t there for your family. It just means that you’re hurt, and that’s ok. You deserve to feel hurt. Your family just broke and splintered—it’s when you pretend that you’re fine that it will hurt the worst, and you will feel the most alone.

9. You know how you’re 99% positive that you know everything there is to know about the world? You’re wrong. (Now you just know 97%).

10. Everyone’s going to tell you that the blue mascara is stupid, and when you’re my age you’ll laugh with your best friend about how unfashionable you were, but secretly I love that you wore blue mascara. I like that you aren’t afraid of color.

11. Just clean up your room already. It’s going to drive Mum nuts for like, ten years.

12. You’ve got a lot of incredible adventures coming your way. You’re going to climb up a snow covered mountain, walk through a rainforest, and tiptoe carefully on an active volcano crater. You’re going fall in love and out of love and have crushes and kisses. You’re going to get through almost ten more years of school and when its over, you’re going to miss it (shocking, I know). You’ll go to Paris, Florence, Scotland, London, and countless more beautiful, wondrous places, and you’ll meet more friends than I can count. Ten years from now, you’ll have a life that you’re in love with.

13. The whole thing with middle school is that you really are in the middle right now. In the middle of your parents divorce. You’re the middle child. You’re in between childhood and a tentative adulthood. Grade school was left behind when you had to transfer, and you’ll switch again to go to a different high school. You are right in the thick of pain, and heartbreak, and disappointment, but it was happier in the past and you, my love, will be so happy in the future. So hold on tight. There are some more obstacles in your way, some more difficulties ahead. It sounds unfair, I know, but from where I’m looking, the hardest stuff you go through makes the good stuff even better.

You are so much stronger, and more loved, than you could ever understand right now. So just trust me. You’ll get through.

Insane in the Gizmodo

Wow, very exciting news guys.  I have been in a whirlwind of massive links and publicity because one of my articles, Sex Lies and Texting: Decoding Your Girl, made it on to the front page of Gizmodo.

For those of you who don’t know what Gizmodo is, it’s a technological gadget site (computers, cell phones, ipods, etc) that get over 3.4 million unique visitors per month.

3.4 million visitors per month.

And I was on the front page.

Here is the link (not the front page anymore) that so far has over 27,000 views.

Here is the original article on Cell Phones.org.

And here are the references so far:

Slackademia

Miri Community

Seth Goldstein

SOT Syndicate

Awesome.

New Work is up!

Got some new work to check out:

SOS, SMS: The Ultimate Guide to SMS Safety

How to Build Good Credit

Cellular Fashion: What’s Hot

Trying to hit the grind hard these days, so check it out and enjoy!

Etiquette Guide!

Hello friends!

Check out some of my new work, a Cell Phone Etiquette Guide, over on Cell Phones.org.  Heck Yes!

Welcome!

welcome to the finalword.  this is an auxiliary site to finalword.org, so be sure to visit there to check in on the absolute latest in my life as a freelancer.  feel free to browse through the blog!  i’ll be updating here as more work and links come in; for random musings, i’ll stay mostly over there.

thanks for reading!

kiss kiss.