Page 61 of Ruthless Court

“I’m Elise. Across the hall.”

“Hannah.”

The staircase creaks under every step. The walls are thick, painted a faded cream, and lined with old photographs in dark wooden frames.

Briar smells like dust, laundry detergent, and somebody’s burnt popcorn.

It feels more like home than Cypress ever did.

Room 308 has uneven floors and two tall windows overlooking an oak tree. The radiator beneath them clanks even though the afternoon is warm. A pipe groans inside the wall.

The sink in the corner drips.

Plink.

Pause.

Plink.

I smile.

The bathroom beside Dad’s old gym made the same sound for twelve years.

My new roommates turn when I enter.

One is sitting on the floor surrounded by paperbacks. The other is pinning postcards above her desk.

“Hi,” Floor Girl says. “You must be Hannah.”

“I must be.”

“I’m Lila. That’s Noor.”

Noor hops down from her chair and takes the box from my arms before I can protest.

“We cleared these shelves for you.”

Lila points toward an empty bookcase.

“You said in the housing form that you read.”

“I may have understated the situation.”

“How many boxes?”

“Three.”

Her face lights up. “What kind?”

“History. Fiction. Archaeology. A few biographies.”

Noor looks over at me.

“Do you annotate?”

“Yes.”

“Pen or pencil?”