Lost Girls (Book One in the Academy Series)

Memories of Sheila

My dorm room has never seemed this empty.

In August, flying up here alone had seemed smart and adult and the perfect way to start my new life—right up to the moment I boarded the plane. Standing in the dorm room that first day, confronted by the bare mattress and scuffed dresser, everything was overwhelming. I unpacked by upending my stuffed knapsack over the bottom drawer, then repeating the process with a second knapsack and a second drawer.

I don't know how long Sheila was standing in the doorway. When she said my name, I think I squeaked.

Like everyone, I saw those pictures from when she was in New York, the ones with stories that sounded made-up. In real life, she was shorter than I'd imagined and way less guarded. Immodest stilettos added some height; her pink dress's hemline would have been an infraction at my old school. 

Yet on Sheila the outfit seemed less flagrant than flirty.

When she stepped into the room, it was as if she'd stepped into a spotlight. Late summer sunlight was diffused through rose curtains. Red and gold shimmered over her skin and blond hair. Her features were tiny; only her lips and eyes were large, like some anime heroine.

I must have been staring, because she giggled and said, "Hello, I'm Sheila." I glanced past her to the posters on the wall. Laughing, she smiled and added, "Right. You must be Casey."

I'm not usually shy, but on that first day the words weren't forming.

She didn't seem to notice. When she opened the closet, I was reminded of the wardrobe I'd abandoned in Boston. I mean, how many outfits do you need for a music school that's closer to Canada than to a decent symphony?

Quite a few evidently—at least in Sheila's case—but she just grabbed a light jacket, draped it over bare shoulders and strode toward the door. "Come on, I want to show you your new home away from home."

I was still by the dresser, aware of how grimy my jeans were and the tiny but advancing hole along one side of my t-shirt. "I should change."

"Why? You look great. Come on." So I'd followed her.