Frost - Marianna Baer

he hadn’t said anything at dinner made me keep it to myself.

I did want to talk about something else.

“You guys?” I said after they’d declared my speech ready for

the tender ears of the newbies. “I know that having Celeste here

wasn’t the plan, but I think we should make an effort to be

welcoming. Not fakey-fake nicey-nice. Friendly.”

“Seriously?” Abby had been sprawled on Viv’s shaggy white

rug, eating a brownie. Now she sat up. “You realize you’re asking

44

me to go against my true nature? Like asking a vampire to be a

phlebotomist and not drink from the vials.”

“I know,” I said, placing my hand on hers in faux sympathy.

“You’re truly a mean, mean person. But this won’t change who

you are. No one outside of the dorm has to know.”

She sighed. “In that case, I suppose I can do it.”

“Viv?” I said.

“I’m always nice,” she answered from her cross-legged

position on the cushioned window seat. “And I don’t even care

she’s living with us. I love it here already. This room is so damn

cozy. Orin must’ve read it wrong.” Rain tapped the glass behind

her. Another storm had started.

“What does Orin have to do with anything?” I asked.

Viv paused, a mug of tea halfway to her mouth. Her eyes

darted to Abby, who shrugged, and then back to me. “Oh,

nothing.”

“You obviously told Abby,” I said. “Come on, you know I

won’t take it seriously.”

“We decided not to tell you because you’re the one who

picked Frost House,” Viv said, resting her mug next to her knee. “I

guess, though, if you won’t believe it anyway . . . He didn’t want

me to live here. There’s some sort of . . . darkness connected to

it.”

45

Heat spread up the back of my neck. “You’re right. That’s

stupid.”

“Then again . . .” Abby waved her brownie. “He could be

talking about Green Beret.”

I loved Abby, but that was the last straw. “That’s it,” I

announced, pointing at her. “Let it all out now. Purge. Every nasty

thing you have to say about Celeste.”

“What?” she said.

“Pretend Celeste is here with us. Let her have it. So when she

gets here you don’t have all this snark built up.”

Viv laughed. “Abby has an endless reserve of snark.”

“Just try,” I said.

Abby shrugged. “Okay.” She took a bite of brownie, closed

her eyes, and thought for a minute while chewing, then began.

“What are you wearing you look like a crazy person and why are

you so dramatic and your brother seems nuts too and why are

you living here we don’t even know you and why do you wear

that green beret all the time or ever la la la I can’t think of

anything else oh yeah if you’re going to go schizo like your dad

please don’t do it here and stay away from matches.” She opened

her eyes.

“Is that it?” I asked.

Abby nodded.

46

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s have a toast.” We all picked up our tea

and scootched closer together. “To Frost House,” I said.

“To Frost House,” they echoed.

We clunked mugs and drank, to the applause of a deep

rumble of thunder.

The first night in a new place usually gives me a tinny,

homesick feeling that makes it hard to sleep. Not homesick for

anywhere in particular. Just a general feeling of uprootedness.

Loneliness. Even if people I love are sleeping nearby.

To help me that night in Frost House, I put on my favorite

mellow-girl-singers playlist; made up my bed with my oldest,

softest sheets; and set Cubby—a hollow wooden owl my dad

carved for me—on the windowsill near my pillow. Cubby’s spot

has always been next to my bed. When I was little and scared of

the dark, I kept a small flashlight inside her. Now, I just liked the

familiarity of having her watching over me with her round, yellow

glass eyes.

Even with Cubby here, I was expecting to toss and turn.

And, at first, moments from the strange day cluttered my

head—so different from what I’d anticipated when I woke up this

morning. Not all bad—there was David’s smile as he rode

away . . . Soon, though, thoughts of the day faded and I was just

here , in my new room. I concentrated on the breezes that slipped

through the slightly open windows and fluttered across my skin.

47

The air was cooler now, because of the second storm. I listened to

the sounds that mingled with Rachael Yamagata’s low, breathy

voice: rain pattering on leaves, windowpanes rattling softly, a

door creaking. I imagined the house was saying it was happy I’d

finally arrived.

The feel of the bed underneath me, the shape of the room

around me, the woody smell of the air: it was all so familiar. I

didn’t feel homesick or lonely at all. In fact, just the opposite. I

was so comfortable—so at home—that Viv probably would have

said I’d lived in Frost House in a past life.

Viv. The darkness. I smiled at the ridiculousness.

Before I knew it, I was asleep.

48

Chapter 6

THE NEXT MORNING, I was sitting on my bed reading an

online article about schizoaffective disorder and its effect on

families while supposedly reaping the soothing benefits of a

chamomile-jasmine aromatherapy facial mask. I breathed in

deeply through my nose. If the aromatherapy was bull, at least

the extra oxygen would relax me.

The side door to Frost House squeaked open and the thud of

uneven footsteps sounded in the common area.

“Hello, hello?” Celeste’s voice called.

I shut my laptop and rushed to the bathroom. For some

reason, I hadn’t expected her to arrive this early.

I rinsed and dried my face, put my glasses on, checked my

reflection in the mirror, tightened my ponytail. Celeste was just

another person. No need to be nervous.

She and David stood in the middle of the bedroom. A chunky

cast on her left leg peeked out of a full-skirted white dress with

Mexican-style embroidery and a turquoise sash. The cast was

painted gold, her toenails neon orange. Her thick, dark brown hair

was longer than I’d ever seen it, halfway down her back. Despite a

tan, her face seemed drawn, emphasizing the bone structure she

shared with David.

49

He was wearing a thin, white T-shirt and faded black jeans,

cut off at the knee. I had a sudden realization that he’d been in

my dream last night. The details were fuzzy. Still, I couldn’t meet

his eyes.

“Hey, Celeste,” I said. “I’m really sorry about your accident.”

“Yeah, it sucks. For you, too. Right?” She hopped over and

gave me a wiry-arm hug. “David told me you didn’t even know

until you got here. What assholes.”

“It’s not a big deal. It’ll be fun.”

She let out a little snort. “You say that now.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

“Much as I like hearing you charm people,” David said to his

sister, “I’m gonna get going. Once you thank me for setting up

your stuff, that is.”

Celeste glanced around distractedly. “Oh, crap,” she said.

“Did I forget to pack the beetle photo?”

“No,” David said. “It’s in the closet. I thought Leena might

not appreciate having it hanging.”

“Leena doesn’t care,” Celeste said as if she could possibly

know this. “The RISD admissions woman loved it.”

“Fine.” David sounded exasperated. “I’ll hang it later. Now,