Chapter Text
Isabelle Fuhrman hadn’t wanted to go to boarding school. To be honest, she had been perfectly happy in her regular old public high school. However, when her parents saw the end-of-year statistics in the newspaper, they were appalled. Only one graduating senior had even been accepted to an Ivy League college – and that would just not do. After a lot of discussion on the matter and little input accepted from Isabelle, it was decided – she would head off to Dalton Academy, just like generations of Fuhrmans had done before her. It didn’t matter that Isabelle had just finished her freshman year, that she had friends at Lincoln High, a life. It didn’t matter that she thought boarding school was for rich, pompous, entitled trust fund kids who were just looking to get away from their either overbearing or incredibly distant parents. In fact, it didn’t really matter what Isabelle wanted at all, because she was sixteen and entirely at the mercy of her parents. So she was heading off to Connecticut, whether she liked it or not.
“It’s not going to be as bad as you think. Your dad went there. I went there. Your sister is there. And we all turned out just fine.” Isabelle’s mom sat on her bed, watching her daughter sullenly throw everything she owned into as many suitcases as she could find in her family’s house.
“Well actually, I’m pretty sure it’s going to be even worse than I think,” Isabelle shot back. “But I’m trying to stay optimistic because otherwise I might jump out of the car somewhere around Philadelphia.”
“Isabelle, please.”
“Okay, let’s just look at this again.” Isabelle threw a charcoal-gray sweater into the suitcase lying open on her bed. “First of all, I have friends here. Second of all, I love New York.” She balled up a pair of yoga pants, adding them to the suitcase of sweaters. “Third of all, I don’t need to be around my sister. I had had enough of her long before she took off for boarding school. Fourth of all, Odessa is a town of, like, three hundred people. And you expect me to be excited to leave the city for Hicktown, Delaware?”
“It might be a small town, but it’s a top-of-the-line school. They basically feed graduates to the Ivies. The Holy Trinity. Harvard, Princeton, Yale.” Elina folded a t-shirt, adding it to her daughter’s mess of clothes. “Don’t you want to do something great with your life, Isabelle?”
“And you’re saying I can’t do something great at Lincoln? You’re saying that I have to go to Dalton to become someone?”
Elina sighed. “We just want the best for you, your father and I.”
“That is a cliché, Mom. And just because it was the best for you does not mean it’s what’s best for me.”
“Isabelle.” At her mother’s tone, Isabelle stopped cramming clothes into her mom’s prized Louis Vuitton trunk. “Don’t you want to do great things?”
“Those kids don’t do great things, Mom. They drink and smoke and party. They live off their parents’ money just because they can. They don’t work because they don’t have to. How is that doing something great?”
Elina scooted closer to Isabelle, taking her hands. “You don’t have to be like that, Isabelle. You can do anything you want to.”
Isabelle sat there for a moment, silent, before standing up and scooping a pile of jeans off the floor, dumping them into a box. “I’ll go. I won’t complain. But I reserve the right to be a little unhappy with you and Dad for a couple of days.”
“Fair enough.” Elina stood up, heading for the door. “You know,” she said, just before leaving, her hand poised on the doorknob, “Dalton really grows on you. You’ll figure that out soon enough.”
“Good-bye, Mother.”
“And we’re proud of you!” Elina called over her shoulder, heading down the stairs.
As soon as she was gone, Isabelle sat down on the floor amidst the mounds of clothing. Of course I want to do something great, she thought. Who doesn’t? She leaned her head back against the side of her huge four-poster bed. But I don’t want to turn into one of them. Isabelle knew the kinds of people who went to Dalton. God only knew her sister brought one of them home almost every break: her best friend, a new boyfriend; it didn’t really matter because they were all the same. Rich, polished, stinking of money. Dressed in the most expensive clothes money could buy, speeding around in brand new Lambos and Porsches, spending Daddy’s money just for the hell of it. And just because Isabelle’s family had money did not mean she had to turn into one of them.
Isabelle’s father was one of the biggest divorce lawyers in New York City, refereeing fights over alimony, custody, and who gets the house in the Hamptons. Elina was a society wife, planning the benefits and accompanying Nick to the galas. They spent two weeks every fall in Europe, Christmas at St. Bart’s, and summer in the Hamptons. They each had limos and drivers so they never actually had to waste their precious time getting behind the wheel themselves. They drank mimosas for breakfast and martinis at night. They went to the opera and had a housekeeper and lived in the penthouse of a pre-war building with a doorman. They were a quintessential New York couple. So it only made sense when their oldest daughter set off for boarding school as soon as she hit her freshman year of high school, becoming just like the rest of them.
In fact, Isabelle was the anomaly of the family, the exception, the incongruity. And that was the way she liked it. She had her choice of private schools, choosing instead to go to Lincoln. She refused to be driven anywhere, instead taking her bike or walking or (God forbid) the subway. She loved New York, but not the New York her parents knew. She was determined to be different.
Going to boarding school would not change that. She promised herself that.
JenniferLawrence: I’m here! Where are you??
MackenzieLintz: Just got off the plane. See you tonight!
“Oh my God.” Isabelle stood at the front gate of Dalton Academy, surveying the scene spread out in front of her. People – her future classmates – were pouring out of the Audis and limos and Bentleys parading through the gates. They were all surrounded by expensive luggage, sunglasses perched on top of their perfect blowouts.
Ivy crawled up the sides of the brick buildings, scattered across the huge campus. To Isabelle’s right were the dorms, a set of seven buildings surrounding a perfectly manicured circle of grass. To her left, the classrooms: the huge glass-walled gym, four regular sized red-brick buildings, and the library – a massive, white-columned building that looked like the Acropolis before it was fatally damaged. And directly in front of her, the cafeteria, rising towards the sky, lined with tall glass windows.
“Here we go,” Isabelle sighed. Her parents, who had been right behind her, had disappeared, probably after seeing some other esteemed alumni who they had to “catch up with.” So she soldiered on alone, hiking her brand new Coach Poppy bag (a going-away present from her parents – Isabelle knew it was technically bribery, but she wanted the bag, even though she was against it on principle) over her shoulder and turning in the direction of the housing office, a small alcove sticking off the front of the cafeteria.
She got in the quickly growing line in front of the window, waiting impatiently for her turn. “Isabelle Fuhrman,” she said as she approached the window.
It took a couple of seconds for the woman behind the window to shuffle through her files, eventually pulling out a sheet of paper. “Okay, it looks like you’re in Hayden. That’s the building at the top of the circle.” She pointed to the dorm farthest away. Of course. “You’re room 117.” She pushed a small brass key towards Isabelle and raised a Nikon. “Smile.” Thirty seconds later, she handed Isabelle her small plastic ID card, still warm from the machine. “You’ll need that to get in the building. If you have any more questions, I’ll be here. Next!”
Isabelle reached down to pick up her bag, which she had released to fall on the ground and dropped her key in it. Whirling around, she ran smack into someone, who had been standing way too close for comfort behind her. “Excuse you,” she said, giving him her best withering stare. He stood at least a head above her and was backlit by the sun, obscuring Isabelle’s view of his face.
“Sorry,” he muttered, pushing past her. Isabelle turned to walk away, looking back once over her shoulder to see him talking to the woman behind the counter. He had the biggest shoulders she had ever seen and a head of spiky blonde hair. She rolled her eyes. Typical boarding school football player.
“Isabelle!” She looked up to see her mom waving her over to where she was standing talking to another woman. “This is Sharlene Ludwig,” her mom said when she got close enough. “She and her husband are old friends of ours.”
“Our son goes here,” Sharlene said pleasantly, holding out her hand to shake Isabelle’s. “He’s around here somewhere. Keep an eye out for him.”
“I will,” Isabelle assured her. She turned to her mom. “I got my room number.”
“Where are you?” Elina didn’t wait for an answer, scanning the piece of paper in Isabelle’s hand. “Oh, Hayden! That’s where I was my freshman year. Of course, after that I moved to McWhorter.” She laughed, joined by Sharlene, as if it was some sort of private joke.
“Um, where’s Dad?”
“Oh, he’s off with my husband,” Sharlene informed Isabelle. “They probably went to check out the fieldhouse.”
Isabelle cleared her throat subtly, trying to convey to her mother as politely as possible that she just wanted to get her stuff and get to her room, out of the sun and away from everyone running around campus. “Well, we should get going,” Elina said, picking up on the hint. “I’ll see you for dinner tonight.”
“Absolutely,” Sharlene said. “It was nice to meet you, Isabelle.”
Isabelle smiled. “You too. I’ll probably see you around.”
As the two walked towards the dorm circle, Elina snapped her fingers, indicating to the men standing by her limo that they were on the move. “This is the Common,” she told Isabelle, gesturing to the big ring of grass in the middle of the dorm buildings. “And this part of campus, the dorms, is called the Village.”
“It’s… great,” Isabelle said, looking around. There were already girls spread out on towels across the grass, in bright pink and orange and blue bikinis, trying to get a tan. Shirtless boys darted among them, throwing Frisbees and showing off. “So where is my dorm?”
“Hayden is right there,” Elina pointed straight in front of her, to the building at the head of the circle. “Do you have your ID?”
Isabelle pulled it out of her pocket. “Right here.” They got to the door and Isabelle pressed her ID up against the sensor, grabbing the door as soon as she heard the lock snap back. She held it open for her mom and the two guys behind them, carrying a couple of her suitcases and a trunk between them. “I’m 117, Mom,” she called ahead to Elina, tossing the key to her. Isabelle followed the movers in to where her mom already had the door to her room propped open.
“This is it!” she announced to Isabelle, holding her arm out like she was presenting the room to her daughter. Isabelle had to admit that it was nicer than the typical dorm room. The floors were hardwood, the walls a pale green. The side facing the Common was made out of a couple of big plate glass windows, a window seat beneath each one. Two beds flanked the room, pressed up against opposite walls, two desks in between and a bulletin board over each. The closet seemed big enough, and the bathroom was a nice size.
Isabelle stepped into the room, dropping her bag onto a bed. There was no sign of her roommate, and Isabelle hoped she wouldn’t mind that she had claimed the bed closest to the window. On the pillow was Isabelle’s “Welcome to Dalton” folder, proudly wearing the school colors (hunter green and silver), the embossed seal on the front declaring her an official Eagle. She flipped open the folder, seeing, at first glance, her class schedule, a list of services the school provided, the name and office number of her advisor, and the dining room menu for the week, as well as a reminder that classes started tomorrow and all students were required to meet in the field house at seven a.m. sharp for the beginning of the year commencement address.
By the time she turned back around, her father was in the room, directing the movers, who were carrying in Isabelle’s last few boxes. “Thanks, guys.” Isabelle saw him press a bill into each of their hands, her father’s signature tipping move. They left, leaving Isabelle alone with her parents.
“Do you need anything else from us right now, honey?” Elina asked her, stepping over boxes and trunks and suitcases to get to Isabelle. “We figured we would leave you alone to unpack.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
“Okay, well. We’ll be at the hotel tonight, so give us a call if you need any help or food or anything, okay? Otherwise, we hope you have a great first day of class tomorrow.” Elina hugged Isabelle, and even though Isabelle still wanted to be mad at her parents, she hugged her mom back, breathing in the smell of Clinique Happy, her mom’s signature scent. “We love you.”
Her father joined the hug, putting his arms around both of them. “I love you too,” Isabelle replied, letting them hold her for a couple of seconds before pulling away.
And then they turned and walked out the door, leaving Isabelle, a newly christened Dalton Eagle, alone in her dorm room, surrounded by the contents of her brand new life.
MarkReardon: Did you hear anything about the new girl?
AlexanderLudwig: Didn’t hear anything, but she practically ran me over at housing.
MarkReardon: She hot?
AlexanderLudwig: Tiny. Cute, if that’s your thing. Kinda feisty.
MarkReardon: Good. We could use some more feisty around here. It was getting a little boring.
Jacqueline Bonnell Marteau Emerson hopped out of her dad’s limo, inhaling the crisp air around her. It was so good to be back at Dalton. After an entire summer in D.C., she had been dying to get back to the big campus, the wide-open space that was so lacking in this country’s capital.
“Bye, Louis!” She waved to her dad’s driver, who had been the only one accompanying her back to school. Her parents were busy, and Jackie, who was a sophomore, decided that having them there would make her feel like a new student. And she didn’t want that.
She headed straight towards the housing alcove, waving hello to people as she passed them. Jackie was the kind of girl who knew everyone. “Hey, Bonnie,” she said to the woman in the window.
“Jackie!” Bonnie said, reaching down into her box to find Jackie’s file. “How was your summer?”
“Long. Hot. Couldn’t wait to get back, honestly.”
“Well, it’s good to see you made it in one piece.” Bonnie slid Jackie’s key across the counter to her. “Hayden 117. You haven’t lost your ID already, have you?”
“Got it right here.” Jackie handed it to her. “But if I did, say, happen to misplace it, would I get a new picture?”
“Not a chance, darling.” Bonnie swiped the ID through her little machine, programming it to let Jackie into her new dorm building. “Here you go. All your boxes were delivered to Hayden’s common room, so they should all be there. If not, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks, Bonnie!” Jackie set off in the direction of Hayden. She was only halfway across the Common when she was practically bowled over.
“Jackie!”
“Jen!” Jackie hugged the older girl. “How was your summer?”
“Eventful, as always. Liam and I went to Hawaii.”
“So you two are still together?”
“Together, and better than ever.” Jen tossed her long, dirty blonde hair out of her face. “Where are you this year?”
“Hayden.” Jackie jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the big, brick, ivy-covered building.
“Oh, shit. I’m in McWhorter.”
“Well, you’re a senior,” Jackie said. “You get all the privileges.”
Jen’s phone beeped and she pulled it out, scanning it quickly. “Oh, Kenz is here! I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?”
“Yep!” Jackie waved as Jen darted off. “Tell her hi for me!”
Sure enough, all of Jackie’s boxes were stacked in Hayden’s common room, each one clearly marked with a big JBMT courtesy of Jackie’s mother. I’ll take care of those in a little bit, she told herself, heading down the hallway to her new dorm room. The first thing she saw when she stepped inside was a tiny girl with long, dark hair, throwing clothes into one of the dressers. Her back was to Jackie, so she took a minute to study her new roommate. The girl was wearing a really cute white tank top and the bejeweled Sevens that Jackie had seen at Barney’s the last time she was in New York. Her hair hung down to the middle of her back, and she was the littlest person Jackie thought she had ever seen.
“Hey!” Jackie said. The girl whirled around, as if Jackie had startled her. Jackie closed the door behind her, stepping through the minefield of luggage to get closer to the girl. “Hey,” she said, more calmly. “I’m Jackie. I’m your roommate.”
“Hey,” the girl said, holding out her hand. Jackie saw two gold cuff bracelets dangling from her wrist, the kind Jackie had been begging for all summer. “I’m Isabelle. Nice to meet you.”
They stood in an awkward silence for a little while, the kind that exists between two people who don’t want to be rude but don’t know what to say. “Are you a sophomore?” Isabelle asked.
“Yeah,” Jackie said. “Are you?” The girl nodded. “Oh good!” Jackie latched on to that bit of information. “We’ll have some classes together for sure then.” Another pause. “Are you… new?” She knew the girl was new; it was a small enough school where anyone new caused a bit of a fuss for a while, but she didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes.” Isabelle pushed an empty trunk under her bed. “My sister goes here, and my parents did, and pretty much everyone else in my family, but I managed to escape it for a year.” She paled noticeably. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to… like, insult you or anything.”
Jackie laughed, starting to feel more at ease. “That’s okay. I was really reluctant to come here at first. My parents are alumni too.” She moved over to one of the windows. “Mind if I open this?” Isabelle shook her head, and Jackie cranked the window open, letting in a cool breeze. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”
Isabelle smiled, the first one Jackie had seen from her. “I hope not.”
“Don’t worry.” Jackie sat down on the window seat. “I’ll show you the ropes. You know, who to stay away from, the best seat at the snack bar, where to go if you need somewhere quiet to study.”
Isabelle dropped the sweater she had been holding, sitting down on the window seat next to Jackie. “Good. I was kind of worried.”
“It’s never easy being the new girl,” Jackie agreed. “I got your back.”
Two hours later, the two girls were both completely unpacked and on their way to becoming extremely close friends. They had a lot in common – their shared hatred of anything with bananas in it, their guilty pleasure (Cosmopolitan), and their love for New York City. Isabelle had even given Jackie one of her gold Cartier bracelets, which Jackie could not stop looking at.
“Okay.” Jackie stood up, smoothing out Isabelle’s silky gray comforter. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?”
“I’m gonna show you around.”
Isabelle followed Jackie out the door, turning off the lights as she left. Maybe Dalton wouldn’t be so bad after all.
DayoOkeniyi: Dude, Jackie’s back.
JackQuaid: Dude, the Xbox is set up. Where are you?
DayoOkeniyi: She’s roommates with the new girl.
JackQuaid: Did you talk to them?
DayoOkeniyi: No, I heard it from Jen. Come on. You know you wanna go find them.
DayoOkeniyi: Dude.
DayoOkeniyi: JACK.
“Okay.” Jackie was sitting next to Isabelle at a table underneath the awning of the snack bar, a small window jutting off the side of the cafeteria, facing the Commons. Isabelle stirred her strawberry milkshake with her straw, looking over at her roommate. As far as roommates went, Isabelle thought she had gotten pretty lucky. She agreed with Jackie on almost everything, and had even given Jackie one of her Cartier cuff bracelets after she had seen her looking at it. In fact, she really liked her. She turned her attention back to what Jackie was saying. “That’s Dayo.” Jackie was pointing a huge boy crossing the Commons, a cardboard box in his arms. “He plays football. Surprise, surprise. He’s best friends with Jack Quaid. They’re both juniors.”
“Are you good friends with them?” Isabelle asked Jackie, taking a huge slurp of her milkshake. Jackie flushed a little.
“Yes. Jack and I… ah… well, I don’t know. But yeah, we’re good friends.” She craned her neck, looking around the Common. “The thing about Dalton is that there’s a group of people who basically rule it. Most of them are juniors.”
Isabelle made a face. “Great.”
“It’s not so bad. If you know the right people, that is. Which you do, because you know me, so you’re all good.” Jackie pointed again, at a boy walking into the building just to the right of Hayden. “That’s Mark. He’s part of the ruling crowd. Plays soccer. Kind of a perv.” She paused for a second. “And that is Alex. Mark’s roommate and best friend. Football.” Isabelle leaned to the side, trying to see who Jackie was pointing at. Of course, she thought once she got a glimpse. It was the massive blonde guy who she had smashed into at the housing office. “Who else, who else?” Jackie was muttering. “Okay, that’s Jen and Mackenzie.” Jackie gestured towards a tall, blonde-ish girl and a shorter girl with a mess of curls. “Jen is a senior, and Mack is a junior. They both live in McWhorter. That big boy there is Liam, Jen’s boyfriend, he’s a senior, and the one next to him is his roommate, Josh. He’s a junior too. All of those guys live in Maxwell.”
Jesus, Isabelle thought. Almost every guy at this school looks like a college football player. “Okay,” she said to Jackie. “Anyone else?”
“A couple more.” Jackie craned her neck, looking around. “I don’t see them yet.” She turned to Isabelle. “Okay, so the caf is only open for certain hours, and they’re super strict about it. If you get there a minute late, they don’t let you in. It sucks, but the snack bar is open late and you can use your meal points there too. The mailroom is right there.” She pointed at another little alcove protruding from the cafeteria. “If you get a package, they’ll put a slip in your box and you have to take it to the housing office. On the other side of the cafeteria are all the classrooms and the gym. Anyone can use it, but people who play a sport have seniority. The art studio is right next to it. English and philosophy classes are in Beckton; the science labs and math classes are in Finchley; and the languages and history classes are Kingsbury. The music classes and dance hall are in the building behind Finchley. All of the offices, for teachers and guidance counselors and everything, are in Becontree. Then there’s the library, which you probably saw.”
“It’s hard to miss.” Isabelle raised her eyebrows.
“Some huge alumni donated the money to renovate it a while back. It’s super nice inside.”
“What else?” Isabelle asked, actually kind of interested by everything.
“The banquet hall is down that way.” Jackie gestured. “It’s mainly just used for dances and fundraising dinners. The equestrian center is past the Village, and all of the sports fields are in the opposite direction, on the other side of the dorms.” She twisted her hair up on top of her head. “Hayden, McWhorter, and Chilton are the girls’ dorms, and Lucas, Jordan, Maxwell, and Duncan are the boys’. The buildings are every other. You’re allowed in a guys’ dorm until eight and the doors have to be open. And there’s a three feet on the floor rule. Every dorm has a live-in faculty advisor, and they do bed checks and everything which kind of sucks, but there are definitely ways around it.”
Isabelle leaned forward. “Now we’re getting to the interesting stuff.”
Jackie laughed. “Past the banquet hall out in the woods, that’s the party spot. There’s a clearing there and that’s where everyone usually goes. We’ve had bonfires and everything; it’s super nice.” She cleared her throat, taking a sip of her own milkshake (chocolate). “They’re pretty strict here, but as long as you’re careful, you won’t really get in trouble for anything. Just show up to class and don’t fail anything and don’t embarrass the school. Those are the basic rules.”
“Good to know.” Isabelle nodded. Dalton was starting to seem less awful by the minute. “What’s the town like?”
“Odessa? Oh it sucks. It’s tiny and there’s practically nothing. We have to go to Dover or Georgetown to go shopping. Every once in a while, a bunch of people go to Philly or NYC, but that’s not very often.” Jackie paused, glancing at her phone, which was buzzing. “Oh that reminds me. Cell service sucks out here, but you just have to connect to EagleNet, that’s the network, and you can use your email to text. It has this instant message thing, it’s just your first and last name, and it’s really nice actually.”
Isabelle pulled out her iPhone, tapping the Settings icon. “What’s the password?”
“It’s the first three letters of the first name, your middle initial, and the first four letters of your last name, and then the two digit month you were born in and the two digit day.”
“Jesus,” Isabelle muttered, typing isagfuhr0225 into the password bar. Her phone beeped and a message popped up telling her she was connected. “Okay, cool.”
“Oh, okay, look there.” Jackie pointed to two tiny little girls crossing the Common. They looked a little nervous. Probably freshman. “The little blonde one, that’s Willow. She’s the dean’s daughter. It’s her first year.” Jackie paused. “I don’t know who the other one is. She must be a freshman too.”
“This is a whole lot of information,” Isabelle said, sliding her phone back into her bag.
“I know. It kind of sucks. But you pick up on everything really fast.” Jackie shifted in her chair, and Isabelle realized suddenly how uncomfortable these chairs really were. “Let’s see… Oh, spaghetti day is usually Fridays, and it’s the best day to eat dinner in the caf. They do that purposely, because they would rather everyone be on campus than out partying somewhere. Mondays are the worst. Anything with fish, stay far away from it.”
Isabelle laughed. “Remind me of that when the time comes.”
“Oh, and they require that everyone play a sport.”
“Fuck.” Isabelle let the swear word slip from her lips almost reflexively. She liked sports just as much as the next girl, but they didn’t mean she wanted to play one. She would rather just sit around and watch other people do it. “What do you do?”
“Soccer,” Jackie replied. “I suck at it. But I basically get to sit on the bench and record stats. Which I prefer, because I would rather not play.”
“That’s a good strategy,” Isabelle replied, filing it away for later.
“Most of the girls play soccer, but there’s field hockey too.” Jackie waved to a couple of girls passing them.
“Who are they?”
“No idea. That one waved at me first.”
"Do you pretty much know everyone? I mean, it’s not a big school.”
“That’s the thing.” Jackie sighed, tracing the edge of the table with her finger. “It’s a pretty small school, but like I said, there’s a group of people who rule it. I’m kind of on the fringes of that group, which is the way I like it. There’s an inner circle, which is Alex and Mark and—oh! There they are.” Jackie pointed at two girls walking out of the front doors of Hayden. They were both pretty tall. One had bright blonde hair that fell down to the small of her back. The other had dark brown hair and blunt bangs cut straight across her forehead. They both had on short skirts and tank tops, and had their heads together, clearly whispering to each other. The blonde one looked like she was carrying—
“Oh my God,” Isabelle said. “Is that a Birkin bag?”
“Yeah,” Jackie rolled her eyes. “Her dad is one of the big guys at Apple. She paraded that thing around the weekend he sent it to her. I kind of can’t believe she’s still got it.”
Isabelle cleared her throat, shifting in her seat again, which was growing more uncomfortable by the second.
“They,” Jackie continued, “are the queens. They rule everything. The blonde one is a junior; the other one is a senior. Pretty much everyone bows down to them. The blonde one, that’s Leven Rambin. And the other one—”
Isabelle cleared her throat again, figuring it was time to speak up. “That’s Madeline, right?”
Jackie turned to stare at her. “How’d you know that?”
"Well…” Isabelle hesitated. She had been dreading this moment since the second she had found out she would be coming to Dalton. “That’s my sister.”
MarkReardon: GUYS. New girl is Madeline Fuhrman’s sister.
DayoOkeniyi: You’re shitting me.
AlexanderLudwig: I THOUGHT SO. I could kind of see a resemblance.
JackQuaid: You met her already???
AlexanderLudwig: Briefly. It was not unpleasant.
JackQuaid: Jackie just texted me. Her name is Isabelle. Jackie says she’s cool.
MarkReardon: It’s going to be a great year, boys.