The House That Shadows Built: Chapter 2
Welcome Home
The upper school campus of Marbrose Catholic Academy was an island of Collegiate Gothic in a sea of Art Deco. That, at least, was Fern Kubelsky’s first impression, and she never found any reason to reconsider it. The school was located near the southern end of Marbrose Island—the political and financial heart of Marbrose City—and it was surrounded on every side by the towering icons of the Deco District. Miss Stott pointed out each one to Fern as they approached the eastern gate of the compound—its imposing brick walls overgrown with ivy.
“And that’s Calvert Tower,” she said, pointing to a building that looked like a huge limestone slab rising out of the skyline. “And the Lothian Building is over there—it’s a masterpiece of Marbrose Deco, don’t you think? Ah, and here we are.”
The car halted before the ornate iron gates and the driver rolled down his window.
“It’s Mikhail,” he said, speaking into an intercom.
The gates immediately swung open, and the car wound its slow way up a paved lane until they arrived at one of the larger buildings on campus. The school grounds were immaculately landscaped, and Fern almost couldn’t believe that a place so pleasant and green could exist in the middle of a huge city. There were fruit trees, and trimmed hedges, and delightful little flower gardens with benches where she could imagine herself studying on a long, lazy afternoon.
“Welcome to Aquinas Hall,” said Miss Stott as they got out of the car. “Unfortunately, we don’t have the time to show you inside just yet. Can you get the bags for us, Mikhail?”
The chauffeur was already getting Fern’s things from the trunk, and he led the way across the beautiful grounds towards two identical Gothic Revival buildings on the south end of the campus that faced each other across a flowering garden.
“Those,” said Miss Stott, who was already out of breath, “are the dormitories for the boarders. Grayling, to the right, is the boys’ hall, and Caithness is where you’ll be staying. Quite beautiful, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fern. She was trying to hide her excitement at getting to live in a place like this. Just a few months ago, she never could have imagined it. Caithness Hall looked to her like a magical castle with its long Gothic windows and decorative spires and steep roofs. As they stepped through the main doors and into the entrance hall, she couldn’t restrain a gasp.
“Welcome home, Fern,” said Miss Stott with a smile.
The entrance hall was gorgeously furnished, with wood-paneled walls and furniture that looked like it was straight out of the 19th century. There were tapestries and comfortable little sofas, and benches that looked just perfect for reading. The polished wooden floors were covered in carpets that looked so elegant that Fern was almost afraid to step on them, but Miss Stott wiped her shoes without a second thought, and Fern realized that she, too, would someday think this place was no different than her family’s apartment back in Bancroft.
While Fern was staring in wonder at her new home, an elderly woman in the habit of a Catholic nun stepped out from a side room and, catching sight of the new student, strode over to them in an almost threatening way.
“Ah, Marjorie,” said the nun. “I see you’ve finally arrived. You know, we were starting to worry.”
Fern noticed that the nun didn’t look particularly worried about their late arrival. If anything, she seemed annoyed. The deep creases on her face were fixed in a cold scowl, and her blue eyes seemed to be trying to find some hint of duplicity in Miss Stott’s demeanor. Fern already liked Miss Stott, which made her take an immediate dislike to this woman.
“Mob shooting on the Marbrose Bridge,” said Miss Stott. “And you can read all about it in the next Examiner, Sister Athanasia, so stop looking so skeptical.”
“So this is our new Rothko Scholar?” asked Sister Athanasia, turning her judgmental gaze on Fern. “Well, she looks respectable enough. Oh, and Marjorie, remember that she’s got half an hour before the new Rothko Scholars’ meeting with the dean. She’d better unpack and change as quickly as possible. She is expected to be in uniform.”
The nun’s eyes flickered from Fern’s plain black shoes to her knit sweater. Fern frowned. Uniforms were supposed to be provided by the school, and it wasn’t her fault that she hadn’t been given hers yet.
“She has plenty of time,” said Miss Stott.
The nun looked unconvinced, but she went on her way without another word. Miss Stott shot a meaningful glance at Fern, and they both smiled.
“The school shares its grounds with the convent Sisters of St. Fausta,” said Miss Stott. “You’ll see the sisters around quite a bit as you acquaint yourself with Marbrose Catholic. They keep the grounds and run the school infirmary, and you’ll also see them at Mass, of course.”
“Do any of them teach?” asked Fern.
“Sister Athanasia does,” said Miss Stott in a long-suffering way. “I had her for Latin Grammar. It was utterly miserable.”
They shared another mischievous glance. Fern slowed down a little as they reached the top of the stairs so Miss Stott could catch up. Mikhail had already gone ahead with her luggage.
“Freshman dorms are to the left,” said her guide, pointing with her bamboo cane. “You’ll come to loathe these stairs, but otherwise you’ll find it quite comfortable.”
“Lead the way,” said Fern.
She followed Miss Stott along the gallery until they came to a common room furnished with bookshelves stuffed with old books, comfortable-looking sofas and chairs, and round wooden tables. Like the rest of Caithness Hall, Fern thought it looked homelike and wonderful.
“The freshman girls’ common room,” said Miss Stott. “You’ll be spending a lot of time here, naturally. I find that studying together is much more pleasant than studying alone, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes,” said Fern, but she wasn’t being quite honest. Back in middle school, she could rarely find anyone to study with, and she’d certainly never gathered around a table with four other friends to prepare for the next big test.
“Your room is in here,” said Miss Stott, pointing to one of the eight hand-carved wooden doors that opened into the common room. “You’d better hurry up and get changed.”
Fern hesitated for a moment, then turned the door handle and stepped into her new home.
Her doom room, like the rest of Caithness Hall, was paneled in polished wood, though without the more antique-looking decorative touches she’d seen in the entrance hall. The furniture included two desks for studying, a built-in closet with just enough room for the clothes of two teenage girls, and a bunk bed beside the only window, which looked out onto the beautiful garden and across it to Grayling Hall. A door on the right side of the room opened to a bathroom that was shared with the next room over, forming a suite. Fern didn’t like the idea of sharing a bathroom with three other girls, but having three people she could always hang out with might just make it worth it.
Fern’s roommate, whoever she was, had already put her backpack and her three large suitcases on the bottom bunk, so Mikhail had left Fern’s things in a neat pile on the floor near the foot of the bed. Fern couldn’t help but notice the initials embroidered into all her roommate’s many belongings: “V.M.” It was all she knew about a person who could do more to determine her happiness in this place than anyone else. She had a moment of doubt as she wondered what “V.M.” would think of her—a nobody from Bancroft with good test scores and no sense of fun. Marbrose Catholic Academy was a school for the rich and ambitious, and Fern was neither. She felt that horrible tightness in her stomach, like when she first got onto the train bound for an unfamiliar city. It was the fear she wouldn’t belong, just like she hadn’t really belonged back at her old school.
But then Fern remembered something that restored her confidence—at least a little. If “V.M.” had already moved in, that meant she was a fellow Rothko Scholar. She and her roommate had something in common. They were both good at school.
“Your uniforms are in the closet,” said Miss Stott, peeking through the door. “Do hurry, Fern,” she added pleasantly. “Half an hour goes by quicker than you think.”
The school uniform was about what Fern had expected—red plaid skirt, white dress shirt, dark blazer, and a tie to match. She changed more quickly than usual because Miss Stott was waiting outside, which may explain why she found she just couldn’t figure out how to do her tie correctly. She’d practiced dozens of times in front of the mirror at home when she first found out she was coming to Marbrose Catholic, but now, no matter how many times she tried, it just ended up as a formless tangle around her neck. Finally, she got so frustrated that she left her bedroom with her tie half-done, hoping she would somehow manage it without a mirror as they walked back across campus. Miss Stott, however, came to her rescue.
“Allow me,” she said, as she set to work putting Fern’s unruly tie to rights. “It takes a lot of practice.”
“It must be nerves,” said Fern, blushing slightly. “I’ve never had any trouble doing it before.”
“Let me show you a secret,” said Miss Stott, and Fern watched as she did a much simpler version of the same knot with nowhere near as many complicated loops. “There. Now tuck it in, and no one knows the difference. You look quite presentable, Miss Kubelsky. The young men are sure to take notice. Shall we?”
“After you,” said Fern, feeling strangely embarrassed as she followed Miss Stott back down the gallery towards the dormitory’s main stairs. Fern Kubelsky had always imagined herself to be lanky and awkward, and she’d certainly never chosen to wear a skirt of her own free will. Yet here she was, in the smart uniform of a prep school, her clumsy knees and skinny legs exposed to all the world. Had Miss Stott meant what she said? Fern shot a furtive glance at her reflection in one of the long Gothic windows.
“This will take getting used to,” she said, mostly to herself.
“I’m sure you’re up to it,” said Miss Stott, patting her on the shoulder. “Now, come on. The dean is waiting.”