Free Dark Companion by Marta Acosta

faculty, counselors, and I always have our doors open to you.”
    She talked for several minutes about campus news and then said, “I am so happy to have you all back for the new academic year. I hope you will arrive every day eager to become the very best you can be.”
    She waited for several seconds and a feeling of anticipation grew in the room. Then she began speaking in a quiet voice that grew stronger with each phrase: “Because I believe in your intelligence, talent, and goodness. I believe you are exceptional. I believe in you. I hope that you will learn to trust in yourselves . Trust in goodness . Trust in Birch Grove .”
    She nodded and there was a moment of silence. Then the students began clapping and I was clapping, too, and when they stood and clapped louder, I clapped harder, too.
    When we were dismissed, the atmosphere seemed energized as students streamed out of the building.
    “She’s inspiring,” I said to Hattie.
    “I know. She always makes me feel as if I can do anything.”
    “She has that je ne sais quoi.” Mary Violet tugged my sleeve. “That’s French for ‘I’m totally clueless.’ French is the language of amore, and amore is Italian for love. What language are you taking?”
    “Latin IV. It helps with scientific terms.”
    “Do you want to be a doctor?” Hattie asked.
    “I’m interested in forensic science.”
    “Since all Romance languages come from Latin, it must be terribly romantic,” Mary Violet said. “I can come to you when I need details for my mysteries. Maybe I’ll write one about a Latin scholar who exhumes mummies and solves ancient murders.”
    Constance said, “Mary Violet claims she’s going to be a novelist.”
    “Why do you find that so difficult to believe?” Mary Violet demanded.
    “Because you are the sissiest female in existence and I can’t see how you plan to write gory scary stories.”
    “That’s why it’s called creative writing, because you make it all up. Let’s do lunch.”
    They began walking toward the parking lot and I turned to go back to my cottage. Hattie came back and hooked her arm through mine. “You have to come with us. Our treat, as a welcome to Birch Grove.”
    Hattie stood in the shadow of a tree, so I couldn’t read her expression. “It’s okay, Hattie. You don’t need to babysit me.”
    “It’s not babysitting. It’s…” She shrugged. “It’s hard changing schools and figuring things out. I’d want someone to give me the dish.”
    “Okay.” But I thought that she was being overly friendly.
    As I walked with them to Hattie’s gleaming red BMW, a stunning tall girl with long, wavy tawny hair crossed the parking lot in front of us. She saw our group and sneered. “Hi, sad little juniors.”
    “Hi, Catalina,” Hattie’s group responded.
    The girl’s amber eyes settled on me. Her full lips curved downward sullenly. “You’re new. Who are you?”
    “I’m Jane Williams. I transferred in,” I said with a sharp edge in my voice. I almost preferred her direct hostility to the other girls’ unnatural friendliness.
    “She’s living in the groundskeeper’s cottage,” Mary Violet said.
    Catalina frowned. “What happened to Mrs. Radcliffe’s charity project?”
    “If you mean Bebe, she went to Europe.” Hattie opened the car door. “See you later, Cat.”
    “TTF Never.” The tall girl walked off with a swing of her hips.
    Mary Violet said, “I call shotgun.”
    We got in the car, and I asked, “Who was that?”
    Hattie started the engine while Mary Violet fiddled with the music. “I’m feeling Pink today,” she said, and “Trouble” began playing. “That was Catalina Sachs-Montes, the Argentine princess. Not that she’s really a princess. She just acts like one. She speaks five languages, including Russian, so she thinks she’s special.”
    “I speak four languages,” Constance said.
    “Five is the tipping point,” Mary Violet answered. “Cat’s little sister, Adriana, is starting