Free The Tori Trilogy by Alicia Danielle Voss-Guillén

half ago. My father was transferred, because the Chicago-area branch of his company decided they couldn’t live without him.”
    Talk about laying it on thick. I glance back at Gina, and then at our friend Shannon, who, I can tell, are thinking the very same thing. Gina winks at me and I suddenly realize why: the new girl has a Southern accent...not a heavy one, but still. We were right about something!
    â€œI have an older sister, Cynthia, who’s in college at Stanford,” Anastasia continues, “and a Toy Poodle named Brigitte. My hobbies are reading and playing the piano. I’ve been taking lessons on our baby grand since I was four. Back in Savannah, I attended a private girls-only academy. This is my first time ever in a public school, and I can already tell that it’s going to be very different.”
    I stare at the new girl, unable to believe what I’m hearing. Not only does she look and dress like a princess, she lives like one, too! I mean, a four-year-old playing a baby grand piano, a sister at Stanford, a private academy for girls, and to top it all off, a pet Toy Poodle with a fancy name like Brigitte! I’m not sure yet whether or not I’m actually going to like this girl, but there’s one thing I am sure of, and I can tell that the other girls in my class feel the same way. We’re all dying to find out more about Anastasia Adams.

Chapter Three
    With Anastasia in our class, Monday morning is very interesting. After she finishes talking about herself, the classroom is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We’re all so surprised that none of us knows how to respond. Luckily, Mr. London doesn’t waste any time in asking us to introduce ourselves to Anastasia, row by row, front to back. We give our first and last names, which in my opinion is really kind of pointless. You just can’t expect someone to memorize twenty-two names all at once.
    When that’s done, Mr. London shows Anastasia to her desk. She stares at it as though she’s never seen one before, and I am almost positive that she makes a face at her blue plastic chair with metal legs, the kind we all sit in. I start to wonder what they used for chairs and desks at the girls-only academy in Savannah. Cushioned thrones and jeweled tables?
    When the lunch bell rings, we all spring out of our seats and make a run for the door. All except Anastasia. And, I notice, glancing back, Shannon. Shannon’s desk is just in front and to the left of Anastasia’s. Now Shannon is turned around, talking to the new girl. I edge back through the crowd of kids till I’m close enough to hear.
    â€œI was wondering,” Shannon is saying, “would you like to sit with my friends and me in the lunchroom today?”
    I hold my breath, waiting for the new girl’s answer. I hope she says yes. This could be the perfect opportunity to ask questions and find out more about Anastasia.
    But Anastasia doesn’t reply right away. Instead, she studies my friend carefully, as if she is a sponge soaking up every last drop of Shannon, from her gray eyes and wavy blonde ponytail to the outfit she’s wearing: a short-sleeved sweater, new jeans, and the pair of boots she picked out at the beginning of the school year, which are nice but nowhere near as expensive as Anastasia’s.
    After a long, long pause, Anastasia says, “All right.” Not “thank you” or anything like that. Just “all right.”
    Shannon smiles. “Great! Let’s go.”
    I walk with the two of them to the lunchroom. Anastasia, I notice, is looking at me the same way she was looking at Shannon. The difference is, she takes a much longer time with me. I begin to feel uncomfortable.
    Shannon notices, too, but I guess she thinks Anastasia is just curious. “This is Tori,” she tells her. “She’s one of my best friends. I know it’s probably hard for you to remember everybody’s