THE LOOK ON MY FACE MUST HAVE DONE A good job conveying how mortified I was to have brought up such a bad topic.
“Lauren, it’s okay. You didn’t kick them out!”
“I just feel bad I even brought it up. Did your family want you to leave?”
“No way,” Khloe said. “It was totally the twins’ fault. They were so excited about Canterwood because they wanted to go away and live on their own, but they didn’t take work seriously.” She shook her head. “I hope I didn’t scare you. I meant to reassure you that summer work really prepped you for this year. Canterwood moves at a crazy pace. Stay with it and stick it out. Just don’t fall behind.”
“Thanks,” I said. “For the advice, I mean. It’s a little daunting—and a lot to take in.”
“Anytime—and don’t worry so much. You’ll get used to it.” Khloe smiled and went back to our bathroom, shower curtain in hand. It was a pretty light yellow with white daisies. We’d agreed on it via e-mail.
I glanced over at her closet. It looked liked a rainbow now that she’d finished. She definitely had a bold, happy style. I liked that.
I unpacked my lamp—a très chic PBteen purchase. It had a clear acrylic base and blue lampshade that matched my bedspread. Tiny crystals dangled all around the bottom of the shade. I added a framed photo of Becca, Charlotte, Mom, Dad, and me to my nightstand. In the picture, we were all seated outdoors at a French bistro. It had been taken this summer on a trip to New York City.
I turned to a small, heavy box labeled books. I opened it up and started stacking a few books at a time on the second shelf of my nightstand.
The second I touched the cover, I knew I had it. The book that made my room feel like home. My tea guide book. Under it, I found my tea journal. They fit nicely together on my white nightstand.
Tea was my addiction. Back when we’d lived in Brooklyn, our brownstone had gotten so cold in the winter that Mom made tea to keep me and my sisters warm. She used a tea kettle to heat the water, so I knew whenever I heard the whistle that I’d soon be holding a warm mug of something delicious between my palms.
As I’d gotten older, I started to collect tea—loose and bagged—and supplies like a tea strainer and my guide book. I’d always spent some of my allowance money on trying different kinds of tea.
Khloe walked over to my nightstand. “It’s starting to look like a real room in here!” she said. “I’m so excited. Can I look at your photo and books?”
“Of course.”
I pointed out the people in the photo to Khloe. “That’s my stepdad, Gregg, my older sister Charlotte, my other older sister, Becca, and my mom.”
“Your eyes are the same color as your stepdad’s. That’s so cool.”
“Isn’t it?” I said. “He’s been my dad since I was two. My biological dad left when I was a baby. My stepdad’s the best.”
“What about your sisters?” Khloe asked.
“Becca and I are best friends. Charlotte and I don’t get along very well. She’s in college at Sarah Lawrence right now. But growing up, we were always competitive with each other. The second I started winning blue ribbons for riding, Charlotte became the star of our school’s Scholastic Bowl. I got straight As, so Charlotte got all A-pluses and tutored on the weekends. It’s just this ongoing rivalry thing between us that’s never gone away.”
Khloe frowned. “That’s awful. I mean, I’m not best friends with Hailey and Michelle—the twins,” she reminded me. “But we’re pretty close. They’ve always had the twin thing, though. Like . . . they know what the other is thinking and they do everything together and dress alike.”
Khloe got on her knees, touching the spines of my books. She pulled out one I’d read a zillion times—Fake Me a Match. I wondered if I’d even have time to read for fun here. “What about your other sister? Does she get along with Charlotte?”
“Becca is the buffer between us. I know that’s unfair to her.”
Khloe pulled Everything You Need to Know About Tea and More from my nightstand. “So,” she said. “I guess you’re not a fan of tea?”
“Nope.” I laughed. “Hate it. And the tea kettle I brought? Just for decoration.”
“I drink tea sometimes, too,” Khloe said. “I’m usually a coffee girl, but I’ve heard certain teas are good for your voice?”
“Yeah,” I said immediately. “Green tea with honey and lemon would be perfect for you before your audition. It has caffeine and would definitely soothe your throat. I’ll make you some—just remind me before the big day.”
“I’d love that.” Khloe smiled. “Thanks.”
I reached for my tea journal—a gift from my aunt. I ran my fingertips over the gorgeous cover—raised ice-blue and silver swirls. Everyone in my family knew my favorite color and always tried to find presents for me in the same shade of blue. I flipped it open to a random page.
“This,” I said, holding it out to Khloe. “is my tea journal.” She took it, peering at the page. “I write down every tea I’ve tried, ones I want to try, and if I like a tea or not. I rate them with stars.”
“Oooh.” Khloe pointed to Celestial Seasonings’ white tea with pear. It had ««««« beside it—the highest rating—five out of five. “You must really like that one.”
“It’s so good.”
Khloe flipped through the pages. “You’ll have to be my tea tutor. There are so many kinds! Like this one . . .” She pointed to a tea three-fourths of the way through the journal. “I’ve never heard of red tea. Green, yes. But red? Is it actually red?”
“It is—and there are a ton. Oh, Khloe—you never should have asked me to teach you,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll never stop talking. You’ll run to the dorm moni tor’s office and beg for a new roommate.”
Khloe giggled. “Christina,” she acted out. “My roomie—she is obsessed with tea! It’s terrifying . I fear for my life!”
I giggled with her and Khloe looked at me mock- dramatically. “I think I’ll keep you anyway.” Khloe put back my journal and flashed me an Oscar-worthy smile. “Seriously, Lauren—I am so happy we got paired together. Total kismet!”
I smiled. But, “Kismet?” I asked.
“Meant to be!” she sang, skipping over to her bed.
“Oh,” I said, nodding in fierce agreement. “Then, ‘kismet’ it is.”
I unpacked the books I’d brought, taking two of the four built-in bookshelves in our room. Next: my desk. The beautiful white-painted wood desk had a center drawer, two curved drawers on each side, and a hutch on top.
Soon my purple HP laptop, flexible desk light, bright silver wire pen holder and matching paper holders were set up. I filled one drawer with notebooks and another with an organizer that held a stapler, paper clips, erasers, Wite-Out, and other random supplies. When I’d bought everything at Staples this summer, Becca, teasingly, had kept three feet away from me at all times, pretending not to know me as I excitedly filled an entire cart with school supplies.
“You do know that you can buy stuff online when you get to school, right?” Becca had asked.
“But then, something important might not get there in time. I mean, what if my order of highlighters doesn’t get to school by Monday? Then I have no highlighters. I won’t be able to take good notes. I’ll fail all of my classes on the first day and—”
“Okay, okay!” Becca held up her hands in a conceding gesture. “Continue to fill the cart, Canterwood girl.”
The memory made me smile and I tried to ignore the tug of sadness when I thought how far apart Becca and I were now as I finished with my desk. Once I’d finished, I looked at my side of the room. I was especially pleased with my closet where all of my clothes were color coordinated. Khloe hadn’t teased me once about my type A organization.