Free Brooke by V.C. Andrews

and a slightly cleft chin under thick, full lips. I thought she had an impish gleam in her eyes, especially the way she smiled at the other girls after she spoke.
    â€œHelen Baldwin,” said the girl who had first looked at me with great interest.
    â€œOkay, that’s it,” Mr. Rudley said. He handed me a textbook. “I don’t know what you did at your other school, but we’re just starting
Romeo
and
Juliet.
Everyone reads a part. Some are reading two or three because there are only seven of us.”
    â€œEight now,” Rosemary pointed out.
    â€œExactly,” Mr. Rudley said. “So, why don’t you pick up the part of . . .”

    â€œShe can be Romeo,” Heather Harper said. “I’m not comfortable being a man.”
    â€œHe’s just a boy, remember?” Lisa Donald corrected. “Mr. Rudley told us.”
    â€œThat’s correct. Romeo and Juliet are meant to be not much older than you people,” he said.
    â€œAnd anyway, Mr. Rudley told us a boy played Juliet in Shakespeare’s days,” Lisa continued, “so who reads what part isn’t important.”
    â€œI think it is,” Heather insisted. “I’d rather read Juliet. Why don’t you read Romeo, then? Why should you be the one reading Juliet?”
    â€œMr. Rudley told me to read it,” Lisa countered.
    â€œAll right, girls. Brooke?”
    â€œI don’t mind reading Romeo,” I said. I looked at the others. Heather had a smirk on her face.
    â€œFine. Then let’s get back to the play,” Mr. Rudley said.
    When the bell rang, Eva Jensen and Helen Baldwin came over to me first and offered to show me around. I half expected we would have more students with us at my next class, but our group of seven stayed together for the remainder of the day. The passing between classes was just as Mrs. Harper had described: orderly and subdued. Other students were introduced to me, but there was little time until lunch for me to have any real conversations. Naturally, everyone wanted to know where I had gone to school and what it was like. Only Heather Harper looked as if she didn’t think much of my answers.
    â€œDo you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

    â€œNo.”
    â€œAre your parents very rich?” she followed. The other girls seemed to step back to let her take over the conversation.
    â€œYes,” I said. “My father is a very important lawyer.”
    â€œSo’s mine,” Heather said. “How rich are you?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know how much money we have, exactly.”
    â€œI do,” she bragged, “but I don’t tell people.”
    â€œSo why did you ask her to tell you?” Eva Jensen said.
    â€œJust to see if she would,” Heather said. Then she laughed. “Anyway, I could find out if I wanted to. My aunt knows just how much money everyone has. Our parents had to fill out a financial statement to qualify for the school.”
    â€œShe won’t tell you,” Rosemary Gillian said. “And if she knew you had even said such a thing, she’d throw you out herself.”
    Heather seemed to wither in her chair. “I’m just kidding. Everyone’s just trying to impress you, Brooke,” she accused, her eyes hot. “That’s what they always do when a new girl comes. So what do you think of the place?” she followed, back to her cross-examiner’s attitude.
    â€œIt’s beautiful,” I said. “I mean, I can’t believe it’s a school.”
    The others smiled.
    â€œNeither can we,” Heather said dryly.
    â€œI’m glad you like it here,” Eva said with warm eyes. “We can always use new friends.”

    â€œWhat do you mean, new friends?” Heather quipped. “You mean any friends, don’t you?”
    The others laughed. Eva looked as if she would cry.
    â€œI need