She's Got a Way

 

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About the Author

Copyright Page

 

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To Aunt Judy

For her courage, her grace, her laughter …

 … her love

 

Acknowledgments

In a busy year full of excitement and possibility, I'm incredibly honored and humbled to thank the following people for their assistance with this book:

My editor, Holly Ingraham—for her kindness, her humor, and her keen editorial eye. It's been so fun bringing Echo Lake to life with you.

My agent, Courtney Miller-Callihan—I'm so lucky and excited to be part of Team Courtney's new venture.

The entire St. Martin's team, for the gorgeous cover, the fabulous book-love, and for making me feel so welcome.

My critique partner and cheerleader extraordinaire, Jennifer Brodie—for just being indescribably awesome. Always.

My bunnies—for five amazing years of
what ifs
.

Markus B—for generously sharing his expertise on at-risk teens and outdoor education. And for taking me rock-climbing and not dropping me, even if I made it tempting.

The men in my family, who inspire my book-heroes. You, every day, are the real heroes.

Most importantly, to my girls, because truly, there's no greater gift than you.

 

Chapter 1

“First offense—itching powder on the headmaster's toilet paper.” Gabriela sighed as she let her eyes land on the four teenaged girls seated in the lounge area of the dorm. She loved them like they were her own, but right now, she'd happily rent any one of them out as birth control. They'd make even the most anxious parent-to-be think twice.

“Second offense—baby powder in her blow dryer.” She took a deep breath. “Third offense—the crickets in her bedroom. I
still
don't think she's found them all.”

Madison—blond, beautiful, ringleader Madison—snickered. “Pritchard deserved it, and you know it. She's a bi—”

“Madison.” Gabi's voice was firm, her eyebrows hiked. “That'll be enough. None of those things even comes
close
to what you guys did last night. You have no idea how much trouble you're in right now.”

“Is this when you say, ‘Fourth offense: sneaking off to a boys' school in a stolen vehicle'?” She rolled her eyes. “Because we're going to be all overdramatic here?”

Gabi lifted her eyebrows even further, but Madison just shrugged in response. “I just don't think it's as big a deal as you and Pritch-bitch are going to make it. As usual.”

“Wrong. It's a
huge
flipping deal. You hotwired the school van, for God's sake.”

“But Gabi—” Waverly started to plead, but Gabi put up a hand.

“Sorry, girls. Briarwood Academy has an ironclad code of conduct, and you smashed it to smithereens. The board called an emergency meeting this morning, and the headmaster has been in touch with all of your parents. You will be
very
lucky if they don't expel you.”

Gabi paused, letting that sink in. She noticed Waverly's arms dropping a bit, Eve's eyes darting around the room, Madison biting her lip. Good. These four suitemates had been at each other's throats all year, and in an irony of ironies, the first time they'd actually collaborated on
anything,
they'd chosen something that could get them all thrown out on their snarky little butts.

Sam—short for Alexandra-don't-ask—narrowed her eyes. “She seriously called our—parents?” Her voice caught on the last word, but only she and Gabi knew why.

“Well, if the police get involved, there's no way we can have your families hearing about this from
them
first.”

“The
police
? But Gabi”—Waverly's hand moved to her throat—“didn't you defend us? It was just a prank sort of a thing. Not, like, a criminal thing. Jeez.”

Gabi shook her head. Waverly had probably been dragged along against her will, as usual. The girl needed a serious spine transplant. “Don't make me list the criminal offenses here.”

Madison rolled her eyes. “Not that we're going to be dramatic. Again.”

Waverly looked up, eyes starting to water. “But you're our housemother. Don't you have leverage here? Can't you help us?”

Gabi bristled at the title, just like she always did when it was spoken out loud. She was, in essence, the residential director for the entire boarding school, but Headmaster Pritchard preferred the antiquated term. Pritchard also preferred a school where everyone knew her place in the pecking order, and she liked that Gabi's was firmly below hers, despite her master's degree and eight years of employment.

Gabi shook her head. “My leverage—such as it is—ended the minute you all stepped your pretty little heads off campus. You took it too far this time, and you're going to have to deal with the consequences.”

Just then, the lounge door opened, and Priscilla Pritchard stepped through, the picture of composure … and a cat-ate-canary smile that made butterflies take flight low in Gabi's stomach. Priscilla was dressed in her customary navy skirt, navy blazer, and Hermès scarf—the green one, because it was Friday. Not a hair escaped her fashionable bun, and though she was pushing sixty, Gabi suspected her Boston colorist was paid extremely well to make sure not one silver sparkle ever peeked through her blond strands.

Priscilla crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “Ladies.”

Silence greeted her, which—strangely—made her smile grow even bigger. Gabi swallowed. She had a bad feeling about this—worse than the one she'd had as she'd climbed the fire escape of the Pendleton dorm and rounded up the girls twelve hours ago.

Finally, she spoke. “I assume you expect I'm here to expel the whole lot of you. And fortunately for me, your parents all agree that expulsion is a punishment that would match the crime.”

Dammit.
She
was
going to expel them. And maybe they deserved it, but Gabi had way too much skin in this particular game to be happy about it.

As if by silent signal, the girls transitioned out of their defensive postures, apparently believing there might be more power in pretending they didn't care. Madison and Waverly probably
didn't,
actually. They'd just transfer to another boarding school, decorate their new rooms in next year's designer colors, and stir up trouble once again.

But Sam and Eve wouldn't know a designer color if it landed on their heads. If they lost their scholarships at Briarwood, they'd be headed back to Boston—back to foster homes that would hardly notice they were back … if they even landed in the same ones they'd come from.

“Have any of you ever heard of Camp Echo?” Priscilla raised her eyebrows, that snarky little smile lurking at the corners of her lips. At her question, Gabi's butterflies started banging on the walls of her stomach.

Priscilla took a couple more steps into the room, then sat down in a hard-backed chair facing them. “It's a lovely little place on the shores of Echo Lake, Vermont, just three hours from here. Briarwood recently bought the property, and the board is anxious to get started using it. Luckily for us, it seems we have suddenly been presented with the perfect opportunity.”

Gabi sat down hard. Oh, holy hell. Priscilla was sending the girls to … camp?

“So.” Priscilla put her hands together like a delighted grandma on the verge of giving her grandchildren a new car. “With the permission of all of your parents … or guardians, we have come up with an alternative to expulsion. The four of you will leave your rooms next week only to take your exams and eat your meals, and on Friday, you'll pack your bags for a four-week stay at Camp Echo.”

Madison narrowed her eyes. “Not possible. My father would never have agreed to this.”

“He did.” Priscilla pointed to each girl in turn. “As did everyone else's. You're lucky this is the consequence we came up with. You're
extremely
lucky the board didn't elect to send you to my first choice of camps, where you would have to make your own clothing, your own soap, and your own shelters.”

Gabi felt her teeth almost bite through her bottom lip. As much as she was relieved that someone had taken expulsion off the table, Priscilla was far too delighted about this consequence to have Gabi believing the girls were headed to some sort of pristine lakeside paradise for half the summer.

There had to be a catch.

Eve adjusted her arms so they were tighter to her chest. “This Camp Echo—does it have, like, cabins?”

Priscilla shrugged her shoulders delicately. “I haven't been there, but I was assured by the director just now that the facilities would be appropriate for the situation.”

Gabi darted her eyes toward her. Right now, “appropriate for the situation” would be pup tents in bear country, with loaves of bread for pillows.

Waverly blinked hard. “But I'm supposed to go to Paris.”

Gabi pictured her own flight reservation, currently tacked to the bulletin board above her desk. Next Friday night—apparently now after she'd seen this little crew off to Camp Echo—she'd be boarding a flight to Barbados for a well-deserved trip to paradise. Ideally, it would have been a honeymoon—say, with her favorite rom-com hero—but with her thirtieth birthday looming, she'd yet to find a guy she could imagine lasting much
past
the honeymoon.

It wasn't that her expectations were unrealistic, of course, even if the girls did accuse her of living in some sort of Hollywood-induced romancelandia. And it wasn't her fault that she firmly believed a guy, with the right influence, could actually turn out to be perfect. It was just … well, she had no idea what it was, really. But here she was, twenty-nine years old, living in a tiny apartment at a girls' boarding school, and oddly enough, Prince Charming hadn't yet found his way to her door.

So she was taking her own damn self to the Caribbean. Maybe, among the lovestruck honeymooners at the tiki bar, she'd find a kindred soul looking for
his
happily-ever-after.