Initiation (11 page)

“Some people at his old school thought riding was a ‘girly' sport, and the bullying escalated the more Cole refused to fight back and sink to their level.”

My mouth went dry. There had been a zero-tolerance policy regarding bullying at Yates. “How did it escalate?”

Lexa looked down then back at me. “It started with a couple of guys teasing Cole about riding. Then they picked on his clothes. One guy found his fashion sketchbook and tore out all the pages. He ripped them into pieces and threw them at Cole.”

I tensed in the saddle and Whisper, feeling it, flicked an ear at me.

“Did Cole tell a teacher?”

“No. He wanted to handle it himself. But someone else must have seen it and reported it. Cole and the guy were called into the office. The bully got suspended for a few days.”

“How did he treat Cole when he got back?”

Lexa pressed her lips together. “He thought Cole turned him in. He made Cole's life even more miserable.”

“That makes me sick. It's disgusting that anyone would treat someone like that.” Hearing Lexa talk about Cole's past made my stomach ache.

“It got worse from there,” Lexa said. “Cole told me stories about guys shoving him up against lockers, writing mean things about him in bathroom stalls. Near the end, he was afraid to go to school. The guys threatened to beat him up.”

I was silent for several seconds. It took me a moment to get the words out. “I can't imagine how Cole felt being treated like that. So that's why he came to Canterwood?”

“He applied because of the riding program, not because of the bullies. Cole told me he was going to stick it out and not let them run him out of school.”

Wow. I sat back in my saddle. I didn't have Cole's courage. I wasn't even brave enough to be honest about my past.

“Once Cole got here, it took him a while to realize that he wouldn't be beaten up for saying he had riding practice after class,” Lexa said. “Headmistress Drake doesn't tolerate bullying in any form, but from what I've seen—no one seems to care. There are lots of guy riders.”

“I'm so glad Cole found a safe place,” I said. “No one should be scared about going to school.”

“Agreed,” Lexa said. “Maybe think of Cole before your test. I do that when I'm scared, sometimes. Any more questions?”

“I think I'm set. Thank you so much for everything. And I won't repeat what you told me about Cole.”

Lexa smiled. “You're welcome. And I didn't think you would. That's why I told you.” She looked at me—a gleam in her dark eyes. “I think we all deserve a little more fun. Want to let the horses stretch with cantering then head back?”

“Absolutely!”

Simultaneously, we squeezed our legs against the horses' sides. Honor and Whisper moved into a trot, then a canter. Whisper's smooth strides ate up the ground. The pressure of testing slipped away with each stride.

WHEN I GOT BACK TO MY ROOM A WHILE
later, Khloe looked up from her copy of
Entertainment Weekly.
She'd changed from pj's to loungewear—a deep red velour track suit and a white V-neck T-shirt.

“Hey,” she said. “I didn't even hear you leave.”

“I'm glad I didn't wake you,” I said, pulling off my paddock boots and putting them on our shoe rack. “I went out early so I could spend time with Whisper before it got hot. Now I've got the rest of the day to get ready for tomorrow.”

Khloe looked at our room accessories and decorations in the corner. My eyes followed her gaze. “Want to do those?” she asked.

“Love to,” I said. “I think it will make our room feel more like home when we get back from class.”

“That definitely made me feel better last year,” Khloe said. “And, believe it or not, the missing home feeling doesn't go away the second year. Decorating will make me feel good.”

“Let me change out of my stable clothes and I'm game.”

I changed into a white T-shirt with the Eiffel Tower and pink and lilac splotches. I paired it with black Pink shorts and pulled my hair into a messy bun. Mom had just started to let me shop from Victoria's Secret catalog Pink line. They had the cutest shirts, shorts, and pj's.

I tossed my riding clothes in my hamper and walked over to the corner where Khloe stood.

“Should we separate what we each brought and do inventory?” I asked.

“Good idea.”

We carried our items to our beds, laying everything out. I stepped back, eyeing both beds and taking another survey of the room.

“I think everything's going to look great together,” I said. “I'm so glad we coordinated our color scheme over the summer.”

Khloe and I had traded a few e-mails to decide whose side of the room was going to be what color and what colors
our shared items could be so they'd match. Luckily, Khloe's favorite color—light yellow—matched my light blue.

“Even more perfect that we're both Pottery Barn Teen addicts,” Khloe said. “I have so many PBT catalogs in my room at home. I never throw them away. I swear my pile gets a little thinner every once in a while. I think my mom's sneaking them into the trash.”

I laughed. “So, maybe we do the walls first? A few things need nails . . . are we allowed to do that or do we have to ask Christina?”

“Christina has to help,” Khloe said. “But we can decide where we want to put them. You'll learn more of the rules at the Hawthorne orientation this afternoon.”

“Totally forgot about that,” I said.

At two, all of Hawthorne's seventh graders had to attend a mandatory orientation. Even returning students were required to go. I was glad Khloe and Lexa would be there.

“What do you think about putting the dry erase board on the wall by the end of my bed?” Khloe asked.

“Perfect spot.” The whiteboard had adorable edging— pink with white dots.

“And the full-length mirror could go between my closet and the bathroom,” I said.

“Love!”

We went through item by item—making notes where we wanted to hang decorations that required nails.

The giant poster we'd both decided on—a hazy swirl of pink, blue, and yellow—went on the back of our door.

Over her bed, Khloe hung a black wire
K
. I put a framed collage of photos of my friends, Briar Creek, family, and Whisper above my bed.

Khloe added white wooden bookends to our bookcase. “I love them!” I said. One was the head, shoulders, and barrel of a horse. The other bookend was the hindquarters and flowing tail.

We'd both chosen peel-and-stick wall decals for our sides of the room. I'd picked bubble dot decals— different-sized circles of blue shades. I took my time placing them, overlapping some of the bubbles to make different shapes. Khloe had chosen bubble dots, too— hers were shades of pink. Moving them was easy and it changed the room's look in minutes.

Together, we'd picked out a pack of twenty tiny mini-butterfly mirrors. We put them over the counter in a cluster and they looked as if they were flying.

The violet-colored trash can went next to the edge of the counter, and we put organizers on the countertop
to hold straws, plastic cutlery, and other items we'd use often.

Khloe's desk was coming later today, so she put all of her desk accessories on the floor out of the way.

In the middle of the room, we put down a deep plush rug that matched the trash can. It covered most of the floor and went right up to the ends of our beds.

Khloe and I hung up our matching sheer curtains on white curtain rods. We replaced the boring knobs with clear ones with white swirls. The room looked
très magnifique
! My family and friends were going to love the pics. Becca was going to drool over the flat-screen TV mounted on the wall.

“Do you think we'll be able to assemble the coffee table?” I asked.

“I think so,” Khloe said. “Hopefully, we just have to screw in the legs. I did that a lot this summer when my parents redid the living room.”

We slid the heavy box to the center of the room, easing it down onto the floor. It was a gorgeous white table that we'd gone in on together. Khloe pulled out the instructions and we got started.

“Wow,” I said. “You
were
good at that!”

Khloe grinned as we turned the table upright. I
grabbed a few pastel-colored coasters and scattered them on the table.

Lights were next. Together, we strung round, petal-pink mini paper lanterns across the tops of each of our windows and let a couple of excess lanterns hang down the sides. The tiny bulbs provided ultra-soft cozy lighting.

Khloe unboxed a tall, clear acrylic lamp with curves that spiraled toward the eggshell-colored shade with a soft yellow ribbon around the bottom. We found a spot for the lamp and, simultaneously, sighed.

“This. Looks. Amaze,” Khloe said.

I held up my palm and we high-fived. “It's beautiful. I don't think we could have done any better if we'd hired a decorator.”

“Ah-greed.” Khloe looked at the wall clock we'd hung above the door—a simple but elegant silver clock. “And perfect timing—Christina's orientation in the common room is in five.”

I followed Khloe out of our room and we headed down the hallway. The common room was packed—girls had already claimed every available spot to sit.

A voice, a notch louder than the rest, caught my attention. Riley sat in the center of the biggest couch with
Clare by her side. The girls around Riley stared up at her, nodding with every word she said.

Not exactly the dorm mate I'd hoped for. Khloe and I squeezed into the room along the back wall.

“Did you know Riley lived in Hawthorne, too?” I asked.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Khloe said.

“Welcome, Hawthorne residents!” Christina's voice cut through the chatter. We all looked up to the front of the room.

Leaning my back against the wall, I took a closer look at the people in the room. It was like a chess game. Every girl in here seemed like she was positioning herself for something.

Maybe class president.

Top rider.

Most popular.

I wondered what, if anything, my label would become. I knew the one I didn't want—
ex-dressage champion.

“My name is Christina,” she said. “Some of you are new faces and others I recognize from last year.” She smiled. “I'm not the kind of dorm monitor who's going to be watching your every move and making sure you're in class on time, going to bed at curfew, or not doing laundry for a month.”

A couple of girls giggled.

“I
will
make sure your grades are on track, that you're in your rooms by the issued time and that no boys are in your rooms. The little things are up to you,” Christina said. “You'll succeed or fail at Canterwood on your own. I'm placing your future in your own hands. I will be here, always, to support you, talk, or help in any way possible.”

One word—
fail—
stayed in my brain. I couldn't fail. Not after everything it had taken to get here.

“I'm sure you all have things to do on your last day before classes start,” Christina said. “I'd like each of you to grab a Hawthorne packet on your way out. Once you've finished reading it, sign and date the last page. There's a bin for them outside my office door. Your signature means that you agree to take responsibility for your future at Canterwood. If you're not serious about being here, don't sign it. Deal?”

We all nodded.

“That's it, then. I'm excited to kick off the new school year tomorrow! I look forward to getting to know the new students better and catch up with my girls from last year.” Christina left the room, smiling.

Everyone moved to grab a packet. It was going to take Khloe and me forever from our spot at the back of the room. Riley stood and it was as if she had an electric field
around her. Girls moved aside, many even ducking their heads, as Riley walked to the table with Clare on her heels.

“It's like the parting of the sea,” someone muttered.

I turned and Lexa was beside me.

“No kidding,” I said. “It's like she has magic powers.”

Khloe rolled her eyes. “Riley has a big mouth. She never actually
does
anything, but she has a way with backhanded compliments and making competition a sport of its own.”

“Khlo!” Clare reached her friend, her bouncing red curls sticking out in the crowd. “I
thought
I saw you back there with Lauren and Lex.”

Clare handed Khloe three packets.

“Thanks. We would have been waiting forever,” Khloe said. “Ooh, hey, Lauren and I just finished decorating our room.” She looked at Lexa and Clare. “You guys want to come see?”

Clare's mouth opened and she paused, her eyes darting to the doorway. Riley stood there talking to a brunette I didn't know. “I would, but Riley's waiting. Sorry. I promised to go with her to The Slice.”