Mean Girls. Louise Rozett

envisioned the scene. Me playing, being terrible and being entirely lame and disappointing. “No, thanks, I’m really bad.”

      “That’s okay,” he said. “With no beer it’s just for fun.”

      “No, really. Thank you, though.”

      Now I was being antisocial.

      “Well, then.” He held out a hand. “I’m Johnny.”

      “I—”

      “Oh, new girl, right? Can I get you a drink?”

      I sighed. “Right.” Then, abruptly feeling like it might not be a bad idea, I said, “Maybe one small drink.”

      Johnny laughed and made me one. He added one shot. I thanked him, and took a sip.

      “So what brings you to Manderley in your senior year?”

      “My parents. I used to want to come here when I was younger. My parents got me in because a spot opened up, thinking I still really wanted to come.”

      His features hardened a little.

      “Not that there’s anything wrong with it here so far, I just … I liked my old school, too.”

      “Are you … Is Dana your roommate, then?”

      “Yes, she is. I haven’t really talked to her yet.” I thought of her stony silence. “She didn’t want to come down tonight.”

      “That’s too bad. Not surprised, though.” He looked behind him. “Well, if you change your mind about playing let me know. I have to go find someone since you don’t want to.” He gave me a smile, and found a new partner.

      I stayed for another half an hour without being approached by anyone. I drank my drink and then headed out after saying goodbye to the few people I’d talked to. Ricky tried to convince me to have more shots before I left. I declined, and then hurried away from him as politely as possible.

      Outside, I turned the corner on the dark, dusty stairs and nearly screamed as I ran into a figure.

      “Whoa,” he said.

      “I’m sorry.” It was dark, and we were illuminated only by the running lights at our feet. I could just barely make out his face, which seemed almost familiar. I looked away and started up the steps. I stumbled, dumbly, and he caught my wrist.

      “Are you a freshman?” he asked.

      “N-no.” I shook my head. His hand was warm, and still held on to me.

      “Then you’re the new girl.”

      It wasn’t a question. “Yes.”

      I saw his pale eyes squint briefly, and then he dropped my hand. A small chill ran through me, and I wanted him to say more. I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know what.

      “Sorry for running into you.” I turned and walked up the steps, not understanding at all what had just happened.

      As I snuck quietly through my door, I realized I didn’t know where the light switch was. More than that, I couldn’t turn on the overhead light since Dana was apparently sleeping. I flicked on my flashlight and stepped carefully to my bed, but not without stubbing my toe painfully on the suitcase under the bed. I bit my lip to keep from swearing, and then searched in the darkness for any of my things.

      In the end, all I could find was my comforter and my pillow. I took off my jeans and slid noisily into bed. It was hard at first to fall asleep. I was cold and uncomfortable. I missed my big, cushy bed and the rest of my pillows, and even Jasper’s annoyingly frequent snoring that would only cease after a nudge in the ribs from me.

      At home when I couldn’t sleep, I would make myself a little crudités plate like my dad always did, with Ritz crackers, cheeses, Wickles Pickles (the only kind worth buying), different kinds of meats, grapes….

      Or maybe just a cup of tea and some of those jam-and-shortbread cookies my mom made and almost always had around. Suddenly nothing would be better than to tiptoe into my quiet living room, always lit by the fancy dim light in the corner, and cozy up on the couch to watch old Frasier reruns until unconsciousness swept me away.

      I couldn’t even think about it without getting a pain in my stomach.

      I finally fell asleep, into weird dreams filled with distorted elements of Manderley I must have subconsciously taken in, but which I still didn’t recognize.

      Suddenly I was on the beach by the boathouse. It was pitch-black and freezing cold, even colder than before. I stepped into the water, which was so sharp and frigid that it felt like broken glass. Despite the pain, I kept walking. Before I knew it, I was swimming in the middle of the black sea. I couldn’t see where I was, or how far away the shore was.

      Panic wrapped around my heart as I realized I couldn’t find my way to safety. There was a thunderous roar behind me, before a wave curled around me. It was strong, like a million forceful hands pushing me under. Every time I felt air, it would suck me under again and thrash me around like a Raggedy Ann doll.

      A memory of those pale eyes I had barely been able to see floated into my suddenly aching head. He was mad, he was shouting. I couldn’t stand to see him like this.

      I couldn’t catch my breath. I tried, and got a mouthful of salty water instead. I thought I reached the dry surface and took a breath. Instead I breathed in a rush of water that made my throat ache. My salty tears were mixing with the water around them and my body was contracting oddly as if I couldn’t control it.

      “Anyone who has not already, please proceed to the Kenneth L. Montague auditorium for the First Day Assembly.”

      I was shaken from my dream very abruptly when a voice I didn’t expect came over a PA system I didn’t know existed.

      Why hadn’t my alarm gone off? I inspected it, to find that I’d set it for 6:00 p.m., not a.m.

      Without thinking, I threw on some jeans and grabbed my bright yellow staff T-shirt from my last year at the Jax Beach Surf Competition. I flip-flopped out the door thirty seconds later with only my key in hand.

      It took me fifteen minutes of running around like a rat in a maze before I found the auditorium. I pulled on each of the doors, but they were all locked. I looked around for anyone, but I was completely alone. Left with no other option, I knocked.

      The door opened suddenly, and a youngish man let me in. “Freshman?”

      “Oh, no, I’m a senior. But I’m new.”

      “Try to be on time from now on.” He was stern but not unkind. He glanced at my clothes. “And at the end of the assembly, please put on your uniform.”

      A shock of humiliation ran through me. I looked at the sea of navy-blue, white and khaki uniformed students in the seats. “Sorry, I’m coming from public school, I’ve never had—”

      He nodded politely, though a touch dismissively, as I drifted into my annoying habit of overexplaining. I stopped, and he told me there was a seat down in front. To get to it, I’d have to walk—duck—past everyone.

      I got there as quietly as possible and ignored the stares I could feel on me. Once seated, I stared straight up at the stage where I was only just noticing that there was a woman speaking.

      She was reminding the students of the rules. Mostly everyone had no doubt heard the spiel as many times as I’d read it over the summer. I cringed when she got to the part about wearing uniforms every day to every function but Saturday and Sunday and social events. Weekends were mostly our own. We were allowed out from 9:00 a.m. until 10:00 p.m. on Saturdays, and from noon till 7:00 p.m. on Sundays. There were shuttles that would go back and forth from town to Manderley.

      “… and absolutely no sexual relations of any kind anywhere on school property,” the speaker said, a tad optimistically, and adjusted her papers. There was