The tie turned out to be a particular problem since I’d never worn one before; the fact that my hands were shaking a little with nerves for what lay ahead of me didn’t help. Once I had accomplished something that at least approximated a knot, I gave up trying to make it any better.

My first day.

The mantra I had been telling myself in bed every night over the past few weeks echoed through my head again: A new school, a new chance. Studying myself in the mirror, I tried to imagine how the other students might view me. With my blond hair in a neat braid, a splatter of freckles from the summer that my makeup couldn’t quite conceal, and my eyes slightly widened in apprehension, I looked . . . innocent? Inconspicuous? Hopefully enough of the latter to not get ripped to shreds on my first day here, I thought, flashing back to my former school, and gave my reflection a shaky smile.

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I stepped out into the corridor. The building had an entirely different atmosphere by day: sunlight poured through the high windows and the hallways were bustling with students, laughter and the scent of perfume and hair products filling the air while a steady stream of girls was rushing down the stairs to breakfast.

I was about to fall in step with my new classmates when I felt a hand on my arm.

“Evelyn!” Amelia said. “I was just about to come to your room to see if you needed any help.”

I stepped aside to let a pair of girls pass. “I’m fine, but thank you. That’s really sweet.”

“What in heaven’s name did you do with that tie?”

“I’ve never tied one.” I shrugged sheepishly.

Amelia shook her head with a quiet tsk sound and stepped closer. Within seconds, she had undone the knot and rearranged it neatly, so my tie matched her own. “There,” she said, taking a step back. “Try and do it like this tomorrow.”

I was almost 100 percent certain I would not be able to accomplish anything remotely similar, but said, “Thanks.”

“Come along then. We don’t want to be late.”

I tried to hide my surprise when she looped her arm through mine, and I let her drag me along. Like last night, she was walking like she was late to an appointment, even though I had a feeling that she had not once been tardy to anything in her life. She ground to a halt only when we reached the top of the stairs; I was about to ask why, when my eyes found the reason for the disruption.

Noelle Daniels.

She was jogging up the stairs, pushing through a group of younger girls who readily made way for her. Instead of the school uniform everyone else was wearing, she was in a pair of black tracksuit bottoms and a matching top, both of which bore Seven Hills’ emblem. Some stray curls had escaped her ponytail and were sticking to the thin sheen of sweat on her skin, and her earphones were blasting music loudly enough for me to faintly hear it as she neared us. I expected her to simply ignore me again; instead, Noelle gave us a sneer as she pushed past us towards our room.