CHAPTER 7

The bus stopped in Westbrook a little after noon.

Elena got off with her suitcase and stood on the pavement for a long time. The air smelled like rain and cut grass. The street was quiet. A man was sweeping the front of a small bookshop, and nobody looked at her twice.

For the first time in years, nobody knew who she was.

She should have felt free. Instead, she held her phone tight in her hand. The strange message was still there on the screen.

Good morning, Elena Hart. Westbrook is beautiful this time of year. I've been waiting for you.

She had not answered it. She did not know how.

She walked straight to the college. It was an old brick building with tall windows and ivy climbing up one side. A sign by the door said Admissions Office. Inside, a young woman with round glasses was eating a sandwich behind the desk.

"Hello," Elena said. "My name is Elena Hart. I sent a message to your office this morning with my new number."

The woman wiped her fingers and checked her computer. "Yes, I see it. Welcome to Westbrook."

"Thank you. I need to ask you something. Did you share my number with anyone?"

The woman looked puzzled. "Only with the scholarship donor office. They like to send a welcome note to new students. Is there a problem?"

Elena's stomach turned. "Who works in that office?"

"I'm sorry, I can't give names. But it's very normal. Many students get messages from donors."

"Of course." Elena forced a smile. "Thank you."

She stepped outside and leaned against the cold brick wall.

A donor. Someone had paid for her scholarship, and now he knew her phone number. That should have made her feel better. It did not. A kind person would have signed a name.

She told herself to stay calm. She had bigger problems. She had no place to sleep tonight.

"Excuse me, are you lost?"

Elena turned.

A girl was walking toward her with a huge paint box in her arms and a streak of blue on her cheek. She had short curly hair, bright red boots, and the kind of smile that took up her whole face.

"You have the look," the girl said. "The first day look. I had it too. I cried in the bathroom for twenty minutes."

Elena laughed before she could stop herself. "Is it that easy to see?"

"Only to people who have been through it. I'm Chloe." She shifted the box and held out her hand. "Second year. Painting. Professional crier."

"Elena."

"Nice to meet you, Elena. Where are you staying?"

Elena hesitated. "I don't have a place yet."

Chloe's eyes went wide. "Today? You came here with nowhere to stay?"

"It was a quick decision."

"Wow." Chloe stared at her for a moment, then nodded as if she had solved a puzzle. "Okay. Stop. Do not move. My landlady has a tiny room on the top floor of our building. It's the size of a cupboard, but the window is nice. I'll take you."

"I can't ask you to do that."

"You didn't ask. I'm telling you." Chloe grinned. "Come on. Grab your bag."

Elena stood there a second longer. Nobody had been this kind to her in a very long time. It felt strange, like putting on a warm coat after being cold for years.

She picked up her suitcase and followed.

The building was two streets away. It was tall and narrow, with a blue door and a wobbly handrail. Chloe's landlady was an old woman named Mrs. Park, who looked Elena up and down and said, "You are too thin. Eat something."

The room was on the top floor. It had a small bed, a wooden desk, and a window that looked over a row of red roofs. The floor creaked. The paint was peeling by the door.

Elena put her hand on the windowsill and felt tears come.

"It's too small, isn't it," Chloe said quickly. "I told you. A cupboard."

"No." Elena shook her head. "It's perfect."

She meant it with her whole heart.

That evening, Chloe brought her a bowl of noodles from the shop downstairs. They sat on the floor with their backs against the bed and ate with their fingers. Chloe talked about everything. The teachers, the food, the boy she liked who never noticed her. Elena listened and laughed in the right places.

When Chloe finally stood up to go, she stopped at the door.

"You know, I don't know what you left behind," she said gently. "But I'm glad you're here."

Elena swallowed. "Thank you."

When the door closed, she lay down on the narrow bed and looked at the ceiling. The roof was so low she could almost touch it. Somewhere below, Mrs. Park was singing to herself.

For the first time in five years, Elena slept the whole night.

The next morning, the first class was in a long bright studio on the second floor. Easels stood in a circle. The sun poured through the windows, and the room smelled of oil paint and wood.

There were about fifteen students. Elena sat quietly at the back. Chloe waved at her from across the room, and Elena waved back.

The professor was a tall woman with grey hair and a loud voice. Her name was Professor Linden.

"Good morning, everyone. Before we begin, I have looked at all your entry portfolios. Some were good. Some were very good. And one of them made me stop my coffee halfway to my mouth."

She picked up a thin folder from her desk.

"I will not make you wait. The strongest portfolio this year belongs to Elena Hart."

The room turned.

Elena's face went hot. She felt every pair of eyes on her. Her hands, which had held so many brushes in the dark, began to shake in her lap.

"Elena, stand up, please."

She stood slowly.

"Your work has something I rarely see," Professor Linden said. "It is quiet, but it hurts. Every painting feels like someone is trying very hard not to cry. Where did you learn that?"

Elena opened her mouth, then closed it.

"Life," she said at last.

A few people laughed softly. Professor Linden nodded.

"Honest answer. Good. Sit down."

When she sat, her knees were weak. Chloe was giving her a silent thumbs up from across the room.

Then Elena felt it. A different kind of look. Cold and slow.

She turned her head.

A girl in the front row was watching her. She had long glossy hair, a pale cream coat, and a thin gold watch. Everything about her looked expensive. She was not smiling.

She slowly leaned toward the boy beside her and whispered something. They both glanced at Elena. Then the girl smiled, a small smile that did not reach her eyes.

Elena looked away.

After class, she packed her brushes and walked down the stairs. Chloe caught up with her halfway.

"You are famous now," Chloe whispered. "Do you know who that was? The one in the cream coat?"

"No."

"Vanessa Reed. Her father owns half the galleries in this city. She expected to be first. She has been telling everyone for months."

Elena swallowed. "Oh."

"Don't worry about her. Just watch your back." Chloe squeezed her arm and ran off to her next class.

Elena walked out into the courtyard. The sun was warm. Students were sitting on the grass with sketchbooks. For a moment, she let herself enjoy it.

Then her phone buzzed.

She knew before she looked.

The same unknown number.

She opened the message with cold fingers.

You were wonderful today. Professor Linden was right. But be careful who you let see you shine.

Elena stopped walking.

She read the words again slowly. The classroom had been closed. No one had been outside. No one had known what the professor said.

Her eyes moved across the courtyard, over every face, every window, every bench.

Someone was watching her right now.