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Jason out. But not
     that other thing. I heard it coming as I lay on the starchy sheets.
    Boom, boom, boom.
    Inescapable. I felt it like a jolt of cold air as it seeped through the crack at the
     base of the window and spread out along the floor.
    The room throbbed with the boom, boom, boom just like at home. Same as always. But this time my eyelids fluttered open and I
     saw it hovering in the corner, starting to take shape. Like a shadow in the darkness,
     darker than all the rest.
    I squeezed my eyelids closed again and I thought, Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . . because it was the only thing I could think.
    But it didn’t matter because I already knew those words meant nothing.
    And as I drifted away, I felt the shadow coming closer . . . closer . . .

    I woke to whispers in the hall. Fast-moving words, sharp laughter, an indecipherable
     string of syllables. Gossip. Girls moving in.
    The clock told me what I already knew by the amount of noise in the hall — I’d missed breakfast. And I hadn’t eaten dinner. My stomach clenched. I slipped my
     key bracelet onto my wrist and padded down the narrow set of stairs near my room.
     I got a bag of pretzels and a soda from the vending machine in the basement and tore
     into the bag as soon as I pulled it from the dispenser. Then I heard doors slamming
     around in the laundry room.
    I walked over to the entranceway and saw Curls slamming the dryer shut, leaning into
     it with her hip.
    Blond Girl was sitting on top of a washer across the room, filing her nails. They
     were both in pajamas still. Blond Girl spoke, still looking at her nails. “I don’t
     know why you don’t just do it at your uncle’s place.”
    Curls put her hands on her hips and said, “I’m not lugging this across campus.”
    “Well then, at the very least you could send it out like I do.”
    Curls opened the door again and slammed it shut, and this time it latched. “There,”
     she said. Then she turned to Blond Girl and said, “Stuff always goes missing when
     I do that.” Then she motioned for Blond Girl to follow her. “Time to get ready,” she
     said.
    I backed away before they could notice me standing there.
    Someone had slid a schedule for the day under my door, along with the Monroe Student
     Handbook. I spent the morning reading the handbook while everyone else moved in. Learning
     about the consequences as dictated by Monroe for various offenses. I wondered what
     would happen if I refused to wear those ridiculous red shirts, but I couldn’t find
     the answer.

    There were two long folding tables set up at the end of the path in front of a large
     academic building, and two identical girls stood behind them. As I got closer, I noticed
     the girls were not at all identical, despite the red shirts and khaki pants and hair
     pulled up into taut ponytails. And, in fact, I knew them. They were the girls from
     the laundry room, from last night. Except now they were all smiles and perkiness,
     and they greeted me like they’d never seen me before.
    “Welcome to Monroe!” said the girl with the reddish curls. She was looking at me,
     but I got the feeling she was looking right through me. It was unsettling. Her name
     tag said krista . “Last name, please.”
    “Murphy,” I said as she rifled through the stack of red folders. Her eyes briefly
     flitted up to mine. The blond girl, who had been smiling at someone in the distance,
     stopped smiling. Her hand froze midwave.
    “Taryn,” Krista said, looking directly at me. “I think you have this one.”
    Taryn cleared her throat and rifled through the folders. I walked to her side of the
     table, but she passed the folder to Krista instead. And then we all stood in this
     awkward triangle: me with my folder, Taryn looking purposefully away, Krista looking
     purposefully toward me.
    And then a voice from somewhere behind the table said, “Computer room next.”
    Krista looked at a guy sprawled out under