I stood up from where I was sitting, and I had barely taken two steps toward the door when the knock came again.
It was not a soft, polite tap; rather it was sharp and loud.
Three more sharp knocks came, then a pause, then two more, like whoever it was had rehearsed a rhythm.
I frowned. Nobody I knew knocked like that.
Still chewing the last bit of leftover bagel, I padded over to the door, swallowing quickly before opening it.
And froze.
Standing in the hallway was definitely not who I’d expected.
On one side, Ms. Darla Finch, the dormitory supervisor—tall, mid-thirties, hair scraped back into the tightest bun you’d ever seen, posture like she’d been carved out of a ruler.
On the other side… was a girl.
And not just any girl.
She looked about my age but dressed like she had got
