Round and round, O stars so fair!
Ye travel and search out everywhere;
I pray you, sweet stars, now show to me
This night who my future husband will be!

Fifteen-year-old Honey Wheeler winced as Babs Mickelson knocked over a bottle of nail polish, letting cotton candy pink ooze onto the polished surface of their shared desk. Rubbing alcohol, she promised herself. After everyone had gone to bed, she would use rubbing alcohol to remove the stain. Because if Headmistress Lefferts saw the mess… She shuddered. It wasn’t that she minded detention or extra chores. It was the stern lecture, followed by the inevitable tears. She had mostly managed to fly under the radar so far this year, and she didn’t want to remind her classmates of her unfortunate inability to handle any sort of criticism without silent tears streaming down her face.

“And then he drove us down to Old Smith Road.” Babs paused and frowned as nail polish bled from her nail to the cuticles surrounding it. The eight girls of the shared dormitory room waited expectantly, hanging on her every word as Babs used a tissue to clear away the excess polish. Honey glanced down at her own nails. They weren’t nearly as long as Babs’, but they were neatly trimmed and covered in clear polish. And she could barely even see where she’d last bit them. Her math teacher, Miss Trask, had been right. Clear nail polish really did help to break the habit of gnawing at her nails.

“And then what?” Deirdre demanded scornfully, flipping onto her stomach and causing the old four poster bed to groan in protest. “Did he hold your hand?” She pretended to flip through the pages of a magazine, but Honey knew she was dying to hear about Babs’ date with the Head Boy of St. Vincent’s. Especially since Babs was the only one who had been brave enough to sneak out of the dormitory on Halloween. Headmistress Lefferts had allowed the girls to carve pumpkins, but that had been the extent of their festivities.

Babs smirked and replaced the cap on the bottle of polish. Blowing on her nails, she shrugged. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell,” she informed them, sounding so much like their comportment teacher that the entire room broke into peals of smothered laughter.

“Not so loud,” Vanessa warned, and they all stifled their giggles to listen for the tell-tale tread of steps on the worn hardwood hallway. Headmistress Lefferts slept like the dead, but not until midnight.

“Was it romantic?” Julia asked, her voice dreamy. “Did he tell you he loved you?”

Babs tossed the bottle of nail polish into the desk drawer, making Honey wince as it clattered against whatever else she’d stowed in it. “Doesn’t matter,” she informed them. “His name doesn’t begin with the right letter.”

Honey looked up from the pink stain on the desk and tilted her head to the side. Surely she hadn’t heard that right. The girls at Miss Lefferts School for Young Ladies had been raised to have very specific requirements for the man they would eventually marry, but she had never heard of a suitor being rejected because of the letter his name started with!

“What?” Deirdre demanded, sounding as confused as Honey felt. “He’s a Hawthorne! His family owns half of the Eastern seaboard!”

Babs rolled her eyes. “Not his last name,” she huffed. “The apple peel tells you the first letter of your true love’s first name.”

Honey stared at her blankly, wondering if she’d missed something. When she glanced around the room, though, she saw that the other girls were just as confused as she was.

“Really? You’ve never…?” Babs stood abruptly. “I’ll be right back.”

Honey’s eyes widened. Babs had already sneaked in and out of their dorm room successfully once that night. Was she really going to press her luck by trying it a second time? She glanced down at her watch and saw that it was eleven-thirty. Headmistress Lefferts probably hadn’t even started getting ready for bed yet!

Before Honey’s gut-clenching worry could escalate, Babs returned, carrying a large bowl of… fruit? From the breakfast table?

“There,” she said, setting the bowl down on the desk with a dull thud. Next to it, she added a handful of knives. Honey winced, certain that Headmistress Lefferts couldn’t have missed the clatter.

“The Halloween when I was eight my grandma did this with me,” Bab’s explained, handing an apple to each girl, but not taking one for herself. “You have to peel the apple in a continuous loop,” she instructed, pantomiming the action. “And then you let the peel fall to the floor. If it forms a letter, it’s the first letter of your true love’s first name.”

“What if it doesn’t form a letter?” Vanessa asked.

“Sometimes it doesn’t,” Babs admitted. “That just means it isn’t for sure yet.”

“But your apple peel made a letter?” Julia questioned. “That’s so romantic!”

Babs shrugged. “It always works for the women in my family. And that’s how I know Michael isn’t the one for me.”

“What was your letter?” Deirdre asked, and Honey could practically see the other girl cataloguing the names of all the boys at St. Vincent’s.

“It doesn’t work if you say it. And you can’t show anyone your apple peel, either,” Babs warned, looking pointedly at Julia.

Julia flushed. “I can keep a secret!” she protested.

“No,” Vanessa told her, grinning. “You really, really can’t.”

Deirdre picked up a paring knife. “We peel in a continuous circle?” she questioned.

Babs nodded, and the rest of the girls scrambled from their beds to claim their own knives. Babs pushed the last knife toward Honey, sliding it across the desk. She picked it up, the metal cool and sleek and dangerous. She shivered and hoped that no one would cut themselves. She hadn’t done much of anything to embarrass herself this year but fainting at the sight of blood would definitely remind the girls of all her former gaffes that she was trying so hard to block not only from their memories, but her own as well.

“Remember not to let it break,” Babs cautioned. “And there’s a rhyme you have to say while you’re cutting the peel.” Babs recited a few lines of verse and after a few tries, all of the girls had committed them to memory.

Honey picked up her paring knife and held it gingerly between two fingers. She wasn’t scared of the knife; the summer camp she’d gone to two, no, three, summers ago had been more rustic than her mother had realized, and they’d spent days camping in tents and cooking their suppers over a fire. She’d never peeled an apple, but she’d peeled plenty of potatoes. Her mouth watered, remembering how good the foil wrapped potatoes had tasted after sitting in a smoldering fire for a few hours. In any case, an apple couldn’t be that different than a potato, could it?

“Ouch!” Vanessa’s apple dropped with a dull thud and rolled across the floor.

“Shh!!!” Julia cautioned, and they all stared at the door, as if they could see through it to the hallway.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Vanessa stage-whispered. “It’s not like I needed all ten fingers anyway, right?”

Honey closed her eyes and fought the feeling of light-headedness that the very thought of blood had caused. This was a bad idea. A terrible idea! Since when did apples become matchmakers? And why did it need to involve sharp knifes?

“You’re not even bleeding,” Deirdre chided, after it became apparent that Headmistress Lefferts wasn’t about to break down the door.

“Well, it hurts,” Vanessa retorted. “And this is stupid.” She picked up her apple from where it had rolled and took a big bite, crunching noisily.

It was a good thing, Honey reflected, that their rooms were kept spotlessly clean and dust-free by a small army of maids.

“Suit yourself,” Babs said with a shrug. “But it’s worked for every woman in my family.”

Honey stared at her pristine apple. A piece of fruit couldn’t really predict who she would marry, but… Wouldn’t it be nice to know that someone was waiting for her? That maybe, just maybe, one day she would have a friend? A friend that would turn into something more? And that she wouldn’t feel miserably alone, unwanted and unchosen, for the rest of her life?

If she knew that, Honey decided, she might not care so much about being ignored, or worse, by the schoolgirls she didn’t really want to be friends with anyway.

A bell chimed, alerting the girls that ten minutes remained until lights out.

“Better hurry, Honey,” Babs said. “Don’t you want to find out who’s sweet on you?”

What would it be like, Honey wondered, to not question everyone’s comments to figure out if they were mocking her?

The knife was sharp, and the apple peeled easily. Honey worked slowly and methodically, and the peel curled away from the apple in a graceful spiral. She half-heard the other girls giggling and whispering but trained all her focus on not allowing the peel to break. She spoke the words of the rhyme (or was it a spell?) under her breath. The background noise fell away completely, and Honey heard only the whisper of the cold knife against the flesh of the apple. After what felt like an eternity, she reached the end of the apple and the peel fluttered to the floor. Honey’s heart pounded as she squeezed her eyes tightly shut instead of studying the small pile of peel. It probably wouldn’t form a letter at all, she told herself. After all, what were the odds that anyone would want to marry shy, sickly Honey Wheeler? Even with all the money she would one day inherit, she couldn’t picture any man choosing her when beautiful, confident girls like Babs existed. Or if someone did want to marry her, it would be only for her money. And that, she knew, would be far worse than never marrying, never having a true friend.

“Nicely done,” Babs said in a low voice that Honey somehow knew was directed at her. Honey’s eyes flew open and she automatically checked to see if the acknowledged leader of their grade was mocking her. “It’s a really clear letter,” Babs explained. “You’re lucky.”

Honey’s eyes snapped to the pile of peel at her feet, and she had to admit that Babs was right. There was no question that a letter was clearly delineated. Her heart thumped, loudly, and the room swam, even though nobody had cut themselves badly enough to bleed.

“Lights out, ladies,” Headmistress Lefferts called from the hall, and the girls scrambled under their covers. From the bed nearest to the door, Julia flipped the switch, leaving the room dark save for the moonlight. Honey lay in the double bed, eyes wide open and still seeing the apple peel letter. She didn’t normally mind sharing a bed, even though it was with Babs, but her heart was still racing and her body vibrated with a tension she couldn’t explain. The last thing she needed was to accidentally keep Babs awake, and then be resented for it for the remainder of the term. She tried to close her eyes, but it only made the image of the apple peel letter clearer.

“There. I think everyone’s asleep.”

Honey bolted upright in shock.

“Well, not if you do that!” Babs scolded.

Honey pressed her hand to her throat and tugged at the stiff lace neckline of the school-issued nightgown.

“Relax,” Babs whisper-scolded. “I thought you’d outgrown jumping at every little sound.”

Or maybe she just wasn’t expecting someone she’d thought asleep to start talking to her!

“Look,” Babs said briskly, already moving on. “There’s more to the ritual. Are you interested?”

Honey rubbed her dry eyes. “What do you mean, more?” And what, exactly, did Babs mean by ritual? Ritual sounded closely related to spell, and she was pretty sure Father O’Malley wouldn’t like that.

Babs pushed back the comforter and they both shivered. The school might charge outrageous sums for room and board, but the money most certainly did not go toward heating the drafty building at night.

“Well?” Babs demanded. “Are you coming or not? And don’t forget your mirror.”

How could she forget it when it had never been mentioned? And why would she need a mirror in the dark?

Babs tossed Honey’s robe toward her. “Hurry up!”

“What are we doing?” Honey whispered, wincing at the cold of the hardwood floors as she stood to slide her arms into the robe.

Babs cinched her belt and tugged it tight. “Do you want to see the man you’re going to marry?”

Honey froze, light-headed yet again. “See?” she squeaked. “Right now? What do you mean?”

Without asking permission, Babs picked up Honey’s silver-backed mirror from her dressing table and thrust it toward her. “Come with me and you’ll find out,” she promised.

Honey clutched the mirror to her chest. Was this some sort of elaborate prank? Were all the girls in on it? She glanced at the sleeping forms of her roommates, but they didn’t look poised to jump up and laugh at her.

“The ritual worked for you,” Babs said, rolling her eyes at the delay. “There’s more to it, if you’re interested.”

Was she interested? She probably shouldn’t be. After all, she was a fool both for putting stock in a bizarre ritual, and for thinking that there really was someone out there for her.

But that didn’t change the fact that she desperately wanted it to be true.

“Follow me,” Babs commanded, accurately reading Honey’s acquiescence. She eased open the door and peeked into the hallway. Honey felt a thrill of anticipation as she followed Babs out of their room and down the hallway. Almost all her dormmates had snuck out of their room at some point, but she never had. She told herself that she was glad of it, that she didn’t want to get in trouble, but she couldn’t deny that it was a little bit exciting.

She and Babs tiptoed down the hall, the opposite direction from Headmistress Lefferts’ room. When Babs stopped in front of a narrow utility closet door, Honey frowned. Babs winked once, and then disappeared into the black room. Afraid of being caught in the hallway, Honey followed, though she wished they’d thought to bright a flashlight. A moment later she heard a gentle click and she blinked against the sudden artificial light. A naked bulb hung from the ceiling, and Babs had turned it on by pulling on a string that dangled from the ceiling mount.

The room was bigger than Honey had realized, filled with cleaning implements and supplies on shelves. She followed Babs to the back of the room, squeezing past a mop standing upright in a metal pail. Babs eased open a door at the back of the room, and Honey gasped silently at the sight of a narrow staircase.

“Old servants’ staircase,” Babs whispered.

So that was how she’d snuck out successfully so many times, Honey realized.

And probably everyone knew about the staircase but her, she thought ruefully. Maybe she should have snuck out with the other girls. But they hadn’t specifically invited her, and she hadn’t known if she’d be welcome. And, she admitted to herself, she didn’t enjoy breaking the rules. Especially if it would make Miss Trask look at her with disappointment, like she did the other girls when they were caught.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach returned, and she considering stealing back to the dorm room instead of following Babs. But she’d never hear the end of it if she did.

Not to mention the fact that she wouldn’t see the face of her true love…

She trailed after Babs, clutching her mirror in one hand and running the tips of the fingers of her other hand along the wall to keep her balance as she descended the narrow staircase. It was too cold for spiders, she told herself. She had no idea if it was actually true or not, but there was no way she’d be able to put one foot in front of the other if she didn’t believe it. When they reached the main level, she heaved a sigh of relief, even though they still technically hadn’t sneaked out of the school.

“Through here,” Babs whispered out of the side of her mouth, sounding like the cheesy villain she’d seen in the old black and white movie she’d watched with her father over the holidays. Honey giggled nervously, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound. Not only did she not want to get caught, she didn’t want to explain to Babs that she’d reminded her of Bela Lugosi!

Instead of turning in the direction of the front door, Babs ducked into the dark music study and headed straight for one of the picture windows. “This one doesn’t close properly anymore,” she explained, and eased it up.

Honey eyed the window suspiciously. There was barely enough room between the sill and the bottom of the pane of glass for her to squeeze through. What if she got stuck? Worse, what if the window closed while they were outside? But Babs, who was both taller and less fragile than Honey, had already slipped through.

“Are you coming or not?”

Honey held her breath and hoisted herself through the window, breathing a sigh of relief when she set her feet down on well-maintained lawn instead of a prickly bush. She glanced up at the four-storey building, every window completely dark.

“Hurry up!” Babs hissed, and tugged her to a patch of lawn on the other side of the building, where none of the bedrooms had windows.

“Hold the mirror in front of you,” Babs instructed.

It took Honey a moment to remember that she was, indeed, holding a mirror.

“I thought I was supposed to see the love of my life,” she said, frowning at her dark reflection.

“You’ll see,” Babs shrugged. “Or you won’t. Now walk backward.”

Honey waited for the space of a few heartbeats, not sure if Babs was serious. When the other girl didn’t show any sign of mocking her, Honey complied. It was a bit unnerving walking backward in the dark, but it wasn’t as bad as when she’d had to practice walking, sitting, and eating while balancing a book on her head.

“Stop it,” Babs snapped when Honey glanced over her shoulder to make sure there was nothing for her to trip over. “You have to keep your eyes on the mirror while you walk backwards.”

Bewildered, Honey glanced from Babs to the mirror, and then back again.

Babs huffed impatiently. “You have to walk backwards under the moon on Halloween, holding a mirror, to see your true love’s face,” she said, as if it were ridiculous for Honey not to have known.

The wind picked up, chilling Honey through her long nightgown and robe.

“And hurry it up. It’s cold out here,” Babs complained.

Why had Babs brought her out here, anyway, Honey wondered sourly. Based on her impatience, she wasn’t enjoying the experience. Then again, surly had always been Babs’ default emotion. If she looked cheerful, no one would recognize her, Honey thought, and then felt a stab of shame at her unkind assessment.

Taking a deep breath, she raised the mirror and trained her eyes on it, determined to do whatever it was that Babs wanted so that they could get back to their dorm room before they got caught. Small steps, she decided, were safest. Placing one foot behind the other, she began creeping across the lawn at a pace that would have put her in good company with a turtle. Or maybe a sloth. Before she could let her mind drift to other animals, especially the kind that might actually be outside and watching her at that very moment, Honey focused on the various shades of black and grey reflected in the mirror. How anyone was supposed to see anything in a mirror in the middle of the night was beyond her. Was this ritual like a psychological test, the one with the weird name, where a person only saw what was already on their mind?

And what was on her mind? Unbidden, she saw the pile of apple peel on the floor, and heard the giggles and whispers of her roommates as they recited the lines Babs had taught them.

A soft puff of wind lifted her hair, obscuring her vision and giving her a momentary jolt of panic as she faltered. She swept her hair away from her eyes and blinked as a bright spot of light appeared on the mirror. The wind must have blown away the clouds obscuring the moon, she realized. And suddenly, it didn’t seem so ridiculous that she would see something in the mirror. In fact, there was plenty to see. The contrast between black and grey was more pronounced, forming shapes that she was pretty sure were trees, and the driveway, and a bit of the iron gate, and—

Dark eyes, dark hair, and a serious gaze that spoke of steadfast dependability.

She stumbled, her ankle turning as the well-manicured lawn dipped slightly. Her arms flew out to the sides, but she couldn’t let herself drop the mirror. Because if she dropped the mirror, she might break it, and with it, she was suddenly convinced, her chance at a future with the mysterious man. Her heart leapt to her throat as she took increasingly rapid, involuntary steps backwards, struggling to remain upright. Just when she knew she couldn’t control her momentum and would surely land in a messy puddle on the cold ground, a touch at one elbow and her waist steadied her.

“Thank you,” she panted, surprised that Babs had made an effort to help her. Babs wasn’t necessarily cruel, but she also wasn’t the type to go out of her way to help a person.

But Babs was twenty feet in front of her, in the same spot she’d been when Honey had starting walking backwards.

Honey whipped her head to look behind her, but saw nothing more than shadows as the moon once again retreated behind the clouds. Without a thought for Babs, she sprinted toward the school, the mirror dangling from her hand.

“Miss Wheeler?”

Honey startled, nearly dropping her fork on the fine china plate containing the eggs, bacon, and toast that she’d done no more than pick at.

Wincing, she realized that from the tone of her voice, her favourite teacher had most likely called on her more than once. “Yes, Miss Trask?”

“You have mail,” she replied, and handed her an envelope.

Despite her lack of sleep and a lingering sensation that something unexplainable had occurred the previous night, Honey’s eyes lit up at the sight of the plain white rectangular envelope. Her mother used square envelopes and a decorative hand to mark the address, but her father used plain white legal sized envelopes with his company neatly stamped in the return address corner. The letter inside was hand-written, and so messy that she giggled aloud. Her father might own a million-dollar company, but he would surely fail Miss McCallister’s lessons on penmanship.

Clutching her schoolbooks and the letter to her chest, Honey excused herself from the breakfast table and hurried to a hidden alcove in the library. She had just enough time to read the letter before class, but only if she hurried.

Dear Honey,

I hope you’re enjoying school and not getting into too much trouble! The school nurse tells us that your cold is much improved. This is very good news, as you’ll want to be in good health for Thanksgiving.

Honey’s heart hammered as she tried not to raise her hopes. She had been fully expecting to spend the holiday at school, eating turkey and mashed potatoes with the few students and teachers who didn’t go home for the holiday.

Your mother and I have a surprise for you! She’ll write to you with more details, but do you remember how we were looking for a place in the country a few years ago?

She most certainly did! There had been talk of stables, and a lake, and even a preserve for hunting! Not that she wanted to hunt. But she did love to ride, and it would be wonderful to have a place away from the awful noise of their New York apartment. They had been looking for the perfect place for so long that Honey didn’t think they would ever find it.

We’ve found a place that I think you’re going to love. Best of all, there are several neighbours with children your age. They all attend Sleepyside Junior-Senior High, which seems like a fine school.

Honey’s eyes widened. She’d been begging to leave Miss Lefferts School for Young Ladies for as long as she could remember. Did he really mean—

If you decide you would like to stay at the Manor House and attend the local school, Miss Trask has agreed to live with us to assist your transition and to stay with you when your mother and I travel for business. Now, what do you think of that?

Honey’s eyes shone as she tucked the letter back into its envelope. What did she think of that? She thought it could possibly be the most perfectly perfect news she could have received! When the bell rang to announce the first class of the day, she scrambled to her feet and nearly stumbled over—a mirror? Her eyes widened as she recognized her own hand mirror, the one that she’d used the previous night. She must have dropped it, she realized, in her mad scramble to return to her room.

Tucking the silver-plated mirror between her books, Honey straightened her skirt and tossed her hair over her shoulder. She didn’t know what she’d seen in that mirror, and it didn’t matter. Even if she never found the love of her life, she knew with growing certainty that she’d find something just as wonderful at her new home. A new start, with new friends. What could be better than that?