what look like miniature lobsters pours out alongside hundreds of potatoes and ears of bright yellow corn that have been cut into thirds.
“Dig in!” Drew shouts at me across the yard as he carries one of the strainers toward the back deck where Teddy’s already hosing them off.
I laugh as the crowd descends on the tables, piling big handfuls of crawfish, corn, and potatoes onto Styrofoam plates. Drew arrives at my side a moment later and leads me over to scoop up my own dinner, then we retreat to a quiet corner of the yard, where we sit down, leaning our backs against a big oak tree. Drew teaches me how to eat the crawfish, which is kind of a gross process: you twist them in half, suck the heads, and then squeeze the tails to get the meat out.
“You’re a natural,” Drew marvels after I’ve decapitated my fourth crawfish.
“Maybe I belong here after all.”
“I guess we’ll see,” he says, suddenly serious. “You’ve got some potato on your face.” He reaches over to gently brush a speck off my chin, and from the way he pauses and looks at me, I have the uneasy feeling he’s about to kiss me. But then he pulls back and looks down. “Glad you liked everything,” he says. “I’d better get you home once we’re done eating before your aunt skins me alive.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
7
I ’m nervous the next morning as I get ready for my first day at Pointe Laveau. Even with Aunt Bea’s tailoring, my uniform looks terrible. My white oxford shirt is boxy, my maroon plaid skirt comes down just past my knees, and my white socks and black oxfords make me look suspiciously like a seventy-five-year-old orthopedic patient.
“You sure these are the shoes we have to wear?” I ask Aunt Bea as I round the corner into the kitchen.
“That’s what the school guidebook said,” she tells me apologetically. “For what it’s worth, I think you look cute in a retro kind of way.”
I text a photo of my uniform to Meredith, hoping she’ll make me feel better, but she doesn’t reply. It takes me a few minutes to remember that Louisiana is an hour behind New York, so she’s probably already at school with her phone off.
At breakfast, Aunt Bea seems even more nervous than I do. She spills her coffee, knocks over her juice, and drops her toast on the floor twice.
“You’re going to have a great first day!” she tells me with a smile that looks as fake as it probably is.
“You’re acting a little weird,” I say. “Everything okay with the bakery?” Her grand opening party is scheduled for Wednesday night, and the closer it gets, the more scatterbrained she’s becoming.
“It’s you I’m concerned about; I remember how tough first days are. But you’re going to do great.”
“Sure I am,” I reply drily. “What could possibly go wrong in a school full of beautiful rich people?”
“Stop worrying,” she says, but she’s chewing her lip the way she always does when she’s uneasy. I’m relieved when she drops me off in front of the school twenty minutes later because her nerves are rubbing off on me.
Pointe Laveau Academy must have been built right around the same time as my house, because it has the same kind of dramatic, neo-Gothic construction. The main building has narrow, arched windows, steep gables, and a bell tower, and the outlying buildings, which are clustered around a green space I can barely see from the street, are flatter versions of the same design. The complex looks like a cross between a church and an old prison. I shudder as I walk up the front steps and lose the sunlight.
Just before I enter the building, my phone dings with a text message. It’s from Drew.
Sorry , he says, but I won’t be at school. Woke up sick this morning. Hope you didn’t get my germs. Have a good first day!
My heart sinks. He’s my only friend here, and now I’ll have to brave my debut
“Dig in!” Drew shouts at me across the yard as he carries one of the strainers toward the back deck where Teddy’s already hosing them off.
I laugh as the crowd descends on the tables, piling big handfuls of crawfish, corn, and potatoes onto Styrofoam plates. Drew arrives at my side a moment later and leads me over to scoop up my own dinner, then we retreat to a quiet corner of the yard, where we sit down, leaning our backs against a big oak tree. Drew teaches me how to eat the crawfish, which is kind of a gross process: you twist them in half, suck the heads, and then squeeze the tails to get the meat out.
“You’re a natural,” Drew marvels after I’ve decapitated my fourth crawfish.
“Maybe I belong here after all.”
“I guess we’ll see,” he says, suddenly serious. “You’ve got some potato on your face.” He reaches over to gently brush a speck off my chin, and from the way he pauses and looks at me, I have the uneasy feeling he’s about to kiss me. But then he pulls back and looks down. “Glad you liked everything,” he says. “I’d better get you home once we’re done eating before your aunt skins me alive.”
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
..................................................................
7
I ’m nervous the next morning as I get ready for my first day at Pointe Laveau. Even with Aunt Bea’s tailoring, my uniform looks terrible. My white oxford shirt is boxy, my maroon plaid skirt comes down just past my knees, and my white socks and black oxfords make me look suspiciously like a seventy-five-year-old orthopedic patient.
“You sure these are the shoes we have to wear?” I ask Aunt Bea as I round the corner into the kitchen.
“That’s what the school guidebook said,” she tells me apologetically. “For what it’s worth, I think you look cute in a retro kind of way.”
I text a photo of my uniform to Meredith, hoping she’ll make me feel better, but she doesn’t reply. It takes me a few minutes to remember that Louisiana is an hour behind New York, so she’s probably already at school with her phone off.
At breakfast, Aunt Bea seems even more nervous than I do. She spills her coffee, knocks over her juice, and drops her toast on the floor twice.
“You’re going to have a great first day!” she tells me with a smile that looks as fake as it probably is.
“You’re acting a little weird,” I say. “Everything okay with the bakery?” Her grand opening party is scheduled for Wednesday night, and the closer it gets, the more scatterbrained she’s becoming.
“It’s you I’m concerned about; I remember how tough first days are. But you’re going to do great.”
“Sure I am,” I reply drily. “What could possibly go wrong in a school full of beautiful rich people?”
“Stop worrying,” she says, but she’s chewing her lip the way she always does when she’s uneasy. I’m relieved when she drops me off in front of the school twenty minutes later because her nerves are rubbing off on me.
Pointe Laveau Academy must have been built right around the same time as my house, because it has the same kind of dramatic, neo-Gothic construction. The main building has narrow, arched windows, steep gables, and a bell tower, and the outlying buildings, which are clustered around a green space I can barely see from the street, are flatter versions of the same design. The complex looks like a cross between a church and an old prison. I shudder as I walk up the front steps and lose the sunlight.
Just before I enter the building, my phone dings with a text message. It’s from Drew.
Sorry , he says, but I won’t be at school. Woke up sick this morning. Hope you didn’t get my germs. Have a good first day!
My heart sinks. He’s my only friend here, and now I’ll have to brave my debut
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