The closer we got to White-stone, the more kids my age got onto the bus. They must have been new students too, but many of them had found a way to buy Whitestone threads ahead of time, and most seemed to know each other. I hunkered down in my seat, wearing my black hoodie. I had a nervous stomach and my heart was racing, but I closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. "There it is," a girl murmured. Raising my head, I spotted the gold Whitestone lettering over a tall iron gate. I had seen the entrance a few times before, driving past with Mom. Beyond the gate a sweet-looking campus appeared, with sweeping lawns and half a dozen separate buildings. You could easily mistake it for a college if you didn't know better. Getting off the bus, we were greeted by a student who looked like she might be Indian or maybe Pakistani. "New-student orientation is inside the union," she said, pointing at a building with ivy snaking up the side. I followed twenty other new students along a diagonal walkway.
