Faking It

Chapter 2: A Very Presidential Tour

I opened my mouth and clamped it shut three times in a row, deciding that what I had to say wasn't witty enough, before I mustered the courage to say, "Thanks for this. And I'm sorry for knocking you over."

William glanced at me. "No worries. As student council president, it's kind of my duty to make sure all new students feel welcome. And, you know, don't get bulldozed while turning corners."

"I'm never living this down, am I?" I asked, as he led me back down to the entrance hall, where even more students and parents milled than before.

"Nope. Not a chance." William effortlessly dodged people, where I would've probably slammed into at least three more before I'd crossed the marble floor. He greeted some by name, and exchanged a few pleasantries with parents, while I hovered awkwardly, offering smiles whenever I made eye contact with another student. I didn't get many in return. More than a few parents eyed my romper, too. Probably because it was decidedly shorter than the 3-inches-above-the-knee rule in the code of conduct. You'd have thought I was sauntering around naked or something, not in my finest summer outfit and a pair of perfectly respectable sandals. Or at least, I'd thought they were respectable. Apparently I'd missed the memo and was one of the few girls not in heels. That was probably a good thing, though. Heels usually led to disaster for me.

When we'd finally made it through the entrance hall, William strode down a hallway lined with floor-to-ceiling windows on one side, and empty classrooms on the other. Outside, a manicured garden framed a lawn that sprawled all the way to a column-lined breezeway leading towards a pair of mirror-image red brick buildings. He pointed out the different classrooms, as well as the science and computer labs—way more high tech than I was used to.

"The performance hall is in the north wing," he said, glancing sidelong at me. "Though with your grace, I'm guessing you're not here on a dance scholarship, are you?"

"Ha ha, very funny." I resisted the urge to elbow him, grinning despite myself when he chuckled. "I'm on a sports scholarship, actually."

"Oh really?" His eyebrows lifted with interest.

"Soccer," I said. "That is, if I ever find out when tryouts are. Apparently I still have to attend as a formality or something."

"Damn," William said. The corner of his mouth lifted into a rueful grin when I looked at him. "I was hoping you'd say tennis so I'd have something to look forward to during early morning practices."

I blushed again and scraped a hand through my hair. "Are all Kingsbridge students this charming, or just the student council president?"

"Just the president."

When he winked, I almost died.

"This leads to the gym, " he continued, oblivious to the effect he was having on my heart rate. He backed into a door that opened onto another hallway, this one concrete and far more utilitarian. "And the sports fields are out back. Girls' varsity soccer tryouts are probably tomorrow morning, before the orientation assembly. At least, that's when my brother said the boys' tryouts are."

The gym hallway ended in another staircase, but rather than climb it, we passed through the door.

"And here," William said, spinning with my box as if sweeping an arm out to show me, "Is the dining hall."

And it definitely was a dining hall. Not a cafeteria, not by any stretch of the imagination. The tables were polished wood with individual chairs, not the enamel board and plastic swivel-seats from my old school. And the trademark cafeteria stink of fish sticks, burnt popcorn, and chicken soup was noticeably absent, too. Buffet stations and an open kitchen lined the back wall, but all of it was closed and covered since it was too late for lunch and too early for dinner.