Free The Talents by Inara Scott

why they didn’t want us opening the windows.
    Hard to believe that in a few minutes, Jack would be right down the hall from me, unpacking his trunk just like I should be unpacking mine. I wondered what kind of things a guy like Jack would bring to school. He didn’t seem the sort to have pictures and knickknacks.
    Cam’s room would be on the second floor with the other juniors. I imagined his room as warm and friendly. He’d have lots of photos on his walls. Trevor would probably be in some of the pictures, along with Cam’s other friends. I bet he had a lot of friends. And a girlfriend. Probably a gorgeous girlfriend.
    That was a depressing thought, so I decided to focus on unpacking.
    It didn’t take long. I set my CD player on the dresser next to the bed by the window, put away my clothes, threw some pens and notebooks into a desk drawer, and put my sheets and comforter on the bed. I set a picture of Grandma and me on the window ledge.
    That was all I had.
    I heard a few noises down the hall and then some giggling and yelling outside my room. The others were starting to arrive. I lay back down on the bed and picked up the picture of Grandma. It was crazy, but it suddenly hit me that tonight would be the first time I’d been away from her overnight. I hadn’t had friends to do sleepovers with, and my soccer camps had only been for the day. An achy feeling started in my chest as I thought about her. What if she needed help cooking dinner? Who would load the dishwasher, or stir the soup while she puttered around and forgot what she was doing?
    I lay there for another minute or two as the sounds in the hall got louder. Then I heard the door click, and someone thrust it open so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced back a few inches.
    A thin, dour-faced girl wearing knee-length navy shorts and a white button-down shirt stood in the doorway. She had long black hair pulled back from her face with a red headband. She wasn’t unattractive, but her thin lips were pressed together, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. I jumped to my feet.
    â€œHi, I’m Dancia—”
    â€œI see you took the good bed,” she snapped.
    I recoiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you might—”
    â€œSure, whatever. Keep it. I’m Catherine. Nice to meet you.” She spoke in short clipped tones, and her gaze flicked up and down my clothes and then around the room, landing on the picture of Grandma and me.
    â€œSo,” she said, “where are you from?”
    â€œDanville.”
    â€œReally?” She sounded horrified. “Where did you do middle school?”
    I blinked. “At Danville Middle.”
    â€œWhat do your parents do?”
    â€œMy parents are dead. I live with my grandma. She doesn’t do anything, really, except go to doctor visits and watch The Price Is Right .”
    I had a horrible, childish urge to stick out my tongue.
    â€œI see.”
    Catherine flounced over to her trunk, paused to rearrange her position so I couldn’t watch, and then flicked a combination lock. She opened the trunk and pulled out a picture in a large silver frame. It was her, wearing a school uniform of a navy pleated skirt, white shirt, and tie. She was shaking hands with Mr. Judan.
    â€œI was personally recruited by Mr. Judan,” she said, placing the picture on her desk and giving it a loving pat. “He came to my boarding school. I attended Saint Mary’s School for Girls in San Francisco. It’s a very prestigious school that only accepts forty students per class, and I was at the top of my class every year. I took the SAT last year and got a perfect score on the math section. Mr. Judan said I’m a math wizard. That’s why he wanted me here at Delcroix.”
    â€œOh.” I was pretty sure I was supposed to be impressed by all this information, and since I’d already pissed her off by taking the bed under the