So Into You [The Jane Austen Academy Series #2] by Cecelia Gray

to be in class in an hour.
    "First day’s always the hardest," the head cook said sympathetically, just as she set down two more stacked trays of dirty glasses on the counter next to the sink. "But I’m glad to have your help. I’ve been doing it myself this whole time."
    Ellie forced a smile. "I’m glad you’re not doing it alone anymore."
    "Me, too," the cook said. She tapped the trays. "This is the last of it."
    "Thanks for showing me around today."
    "You’ll get the hang of it. See you at lunch." The cook stretched her shoulders over her head with a sigh as she left Ellie to finish cleaning up.
    Ellie pulled out the dishes one by one and ran them under a jet spray of hot water.
    She would have to do this every morning, every afternoon, and every night of every day to stay. Although it was selfish, a part of her did wish Lizzie could convince Dante’s parents to comp her tuition.
    "Need some help?"
    Ellie glanced over her shoulder to see Lizzie’s roommate, Anne. Ellie felt a familiar pinch of jealousy whenever she saw her.
    Even though Lizzie was her best friend, Ellie knew Lizzie had more in common with Anne than with her. They were both driven. They even looked the same, with dark hair and darker eyes—although Lizzie complained she felt plain compared to Anne, who had bigger eyes, bigger lips . . . bigger . . . well . . . everything that counted, as Lizzie said.
    "I’m okay," Ellie said. "Thanks for asking."
    Anne ignored her and pulled a spare set of gloves from the cupboard.
    "Thank you," Ellie said, gratefully. She really didn’t know how she was going to be ready for class without a little help.
    Anne shrugged. "I used to help out in the kitchen whenever one of the staff was sick or on vacation. My mother expected me to." She stuck her hand into the yellow rubber fingers and wiggled. "At least these fit better now than when I was ten."
    "I guess you don’t have to help out anymore," Ellie said. "Not since your parents sold the place to . . ." Ellie’s voice drifted off as she avoided Anne’s eyes.
    "To Dante’s parents? Crazy, right?" Anne said. She set the clean dishes in the drying rack. "Lizzie told me last night when she got back from the party. It was pretty cool of Dante to tell you guys so she wouldn’t have to keep it a secret anymore."
    "Are you mad about it?" Ellie asked.
    Anne shook her head. "It’s not Dante’s fault his parents bought the school. It’s my mom’s fault for losing it in the first place."
    "I meant at Lizzie." Ellie grabbed the first tray of glasses and dunked it into the sink. "For not telling you."
    "Oh. I . . . no. I wish she felt like she could tell me, but I understand why she didn’t."
    Ellie nodded slowly, handing her another dish.
    "Are you mad at her?" Anne asked. "She mentioned what Emma said . . . about how she should have asked Dante’s parents if you could stay for free. She feels so guilty."
    "She shouldn’t. It would be inappropriate if she asked. Totally weird."
    "My parents would have let you stay," Anne said.
    "That would have been pretty cool of them."
    "Yeah . . . but being cool doesn’t pay the bills, unfortunately." Anne glanced away. "If it did, the school would still be ours."
     
    * * *
     
    "Thank you for joining us," Ellie’s English teacher said as she joined class a full minute after the bell. "Will your roommate also be gracing us with her presence?"
    Ellie glanced in surprise at Emma’s empty seat. "Uh . . . yeah, she’s just, um . . . dealing with a small emergency." Ellie scooted into her chair next to Lizzie.
    "If it’s so small, it’s not quite an emergency, is it?" The teacher started writing notes on the whiteboard until another teacher pulled her into the hall for a question.
    Ellie pulled the books out of her backpack to set on her desk.
    Her phone buzzed.
    It was Lizzie. R we cool?
    Ellie smiled at Lizzie and nodded.
    "I wanted to tell you," Lizzie said softly. "Every day. It was killing me. I think that’s why Dante