Once I’m in, though, he’s out. “I’m going to find the dorm head,” he barks, as if I have intentionally put us in this position because I was just dying to be surrounded by boys, when in fact most of the drive for coming to Camden was to get a fresh start away from the last boy and everything wrapped up in him. “If he can’t straighten this out right now, my parents are going to have a word with the administration when they get back from the parents’ breakfast.”

Of course his parents are here. Of course they’ll fight for him. Of course he didn’t have to drag his duffel bag on a bus and then a cab to get here because his dad couldn’t take off work and his mom had fifty excuses, all of which sucked.

The thing is, I know I didn’t screw this up; I reread every single page of my transfer application to Camden Academy so many times I started seeing it on the insides of my eyelids while I slept. I meticulously researched the dorms, making sure I wasn’t accidentally checking off anything for freshmen, seniors, boys, or millionaires (seriously, why does Hillman House have suites with fireplaces and claw-foot tubs?) when I put down Lockwood Hall as my first choice and Ewing Hall as my backup. As pissed as my parents were about my begging to go to boarding school when I was already at a perfectly fine public school, I wasn’t taking a single chance on mistakes.

So how the hell did I end up in Rumson?

It doesn’t matter; Lockwood is so close by, the two dorms literally share a patio, and I already see Archie returning with a ginger-goateed gym teacher type with a smooth white head and a navy-blue Camden polo straining around his biceps. I’m sure this will be resolved in minutes.

“You there,” Ginger says to me in a thick Boston accent, motioning for me to come back into the hallway. “You’re in the wrong place.”

“I’m aware,” I say as nicely as I can, “but no one’s been able to tell me yet where the right place is.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“This is my room.” I hold up my assignment. “This is also clearly not meant to be my room, and so I need a new room. And a new dorm. And a new dorm head.”

He squints. “That assignment says Everett Owen Riley.”

“Yes.”

He looks at me, and I can see it’s not computing.

“My name is Everett Owen Riley. This is my assignment. It is wrong. See right here where it says Rumson Hall? Clearly, I should not be in Rumson Hall.”

“It also says your roommate is Archibald Buchanan,” Archie adds with a scowl. “You didn’t notice that?”