Authors: Madeleine Roux
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Horror & Ghost Stories, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Social Issues, #New Experience
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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CHAPTER
N
o
3
“D
aniel Crawford?”
Dan spun around with the photo still in hand. A lanky teenager stood just inside the doorway, dressed like a door-to-door missionary in a starched white shirt, dark tie, and pleated trousers.
“Hey,” Dan greeted him, waving a little. “You my roommate?”
“It looks that way, yes.” The sentence came out more earnest than sarcastic. “Felix Sheridan,” the boy added. “Did I startle you?”
“No, no, I just—I found this photo.… At least I think it’s a photo, could be a postcard or something, I guess. Anyway, someone went to town on it. It’s pretty freaky.” Dan held up the picture and shrugged. It didn’t seem like an ideal icebreaker, but then he never was very good at first impressions. “Did you get one of these? Maybe it’s part of a scavenger hunt or something.”
“Nothing like that, no.” Felix blinked his milky-blue eyes. “I got my new student pamphlet, dorm safety information, and the course catalog. But that all came in the mail a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I got all that, too.” Dan shrugged again awkwardly. “Just wondering. No big deal.”
Dan put the photograph back in the drawer and shut it. Surely he could get by this summer without ever opening it again.
“I could scan the picture and research it for you. Easy enough, really, just a reverse image search. Although actually, now that I think about it, it sort of reminds me of—”
“Thanks, but never mind,” Dan interrupted, wishing he hadn’t brought it up in the first place. “Hey, isn’t there some welcome party or something we’re supposed to be going to?”
“If you’d allow me to finish … ,” Felix said calmly, then waited an extra-uncomfortable beat. “I was going to say that it reminds me of some photos I found downstairs.”
“Wait, seriously? What do you mean?” Dan couldn’t help it; his curiosity was piqued.
“There’s this abandoned office on the first floor,” Felix explained. “I think it belonged to the old asylum’s warden or something. There were papers and pictures and things just sitting out for anyone to see. The sign down there said it’s supposed to be off-limits, but the lock on the door was busted.”
“You actually went inside?” Dan wasn’t a rule breaker, but then, based on the little he knew about his roommate so far, he wouldn’t have guessed that Felix was either.
Felix nodded. “I was just there, in fact. And I didn’t look too closely, but I’m pretty sure there were some photographs like yours.”
Not mine
, Dan thought with a shudder.
I’m just the unlucky guy who found it.
“Maybe you should check it out for yourself, but I have to warn you, the place was pretty unsettling, to put it mildly.”
Felix didn’t seem unsettled, though. If anything, standing there blocking the doorway, he looked like he was offering Dan a challenge. But Dan had other things on his mind.
“So, about that party?” he said.
Felix stepped inside and went over to the closet, his hand going right to a navy blue blazer. “Indeed.” He joined Dan at the door. “Have you run into many girls yet? Our floor only seems to have a handful. But I’m betting there will be more at this party, eh, Daniel?”
Dan stared at his roommate, trying to add up all the things he’d just learned about him into one coherent person. He wondered if everyone at this program would be so full of contradictions. In theory it would make for a refreshing change of pace from high school, where everyone Dan knew was so predictable.
In theory.
“I’m sure there will be girls, yeah, but …”
Felix watched him expectantly.
“Listen, I’m not much of a wingman. You might have better luck chasing girls on your own.” It made him feel a little jerky, brushing Felix off like this when he was just trying to be friendly, but Dan found himself wanting to keep his roommate at arm’s length.
Especially
when it came to girls.
“Fair enough. Probably better if we’re not fighting over the same ones anyway, am I right?”
Dan let out a tiny sigh, nodding.
The hallways were jam-packed with kids still moving their stuff in. Many were milling around in groups, talking. Why couldn’t Dan have ended up with one of
them
for a roommate?
“Look, Daniel Crawford,” Felix commanded, pulling him to a stop when they reached the main entrance hall. He pointed out the front door to where students were heading across the lawn. “
Girls
. Enough for both of us.”
Gently disengaging his arm from Felix’s clammy grip, Dan went through the door. The day would improve. It had to.
“Well, I feel like a grown-up, how about you?” Dan took another bite of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream.
Felix stared blankly. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“I mean this.” Dan held up the little paper dish of ice cream and danced it side to side. “This whole ice cream social thing. Feels like … I don’t know, like we’re little kids again at a birthday party.” He eyed the tiny wooden shovel that had come with the cup. It only made him feel sillier.
They were in Wilfurd Commons, a huge cafeteria-cum-ballroom located in one of the buildings off the quad. Above them a domed skylight let in the last traces of sunlight. The coming dusk gave the room a violet tint, while outside a fog was settling low to the ground.
“I don’t connect ice cream to my childhood,” Felix said.
That’s probably because you never went to any birthday parties.
Dan immediately chided himself. He really had to be nicer, but conversation had so far been hopeless.
“Personally, I was hoping I’d have a chance to get some advice on which biology classes to take, but I don’t see any of the professors associated with— Wait! I think that may be Professor Soams now. I read his dissertation on the evolution of microbial pathogens.…”
Dan missed the rest of what Felix was saying, all too happy to see him wading through the crowd toward an elderly man in the opposite corner. Still, relieved though he was for the break from Felix, he was now painfully aware of being alone in a crowd.
Hoping that he didn’t look as awkward as he felt, Dan put another spoonful of the melting ice cream into his mouth. It tasted chalky, like medicine. The unpleasant smell of a burning cigarette wafted in from the open doors leading outside, and Dan felt himself clamming up.
Calm down, Dan, you’re fine, you’re fine.
A cold, prickly sweat gathered at the base of his neck. He felt dizzy, and the skylight spun. The whole room spun. He tried to grab the table behind him but missed and stumbled backward. Any second he’d hit the floor.
A strong hand caught him by the arm and pulled him upright. “Whoa! Careful, slick, or you’ll be wearing that ice cream.” Dan blinked and the world came back into focus. In front of him, still holding his arm, was a girl, petite, with large brown eyes and creamy olive skin. She was wearing a big button-down shirt that had splatters of paint on it over a tank top. Her jeans were ripped, and she had on a pair of heavy black boots.
“Thanks,” said Dan, checking his own shirt to make sure he hadn’t spilled anything. “I guess it’s just a little too hot in here.”
She smiled.
“I’m Dan Crawford, by the way.”
“Abby, Abby Valdez,” the girl said. They shook hands. Her grip was strong and warm.
“Anyway, you said it.” Abby snorted and tossed her wavy hair. It fell like a black curtain over one shoulder, purple and green feathers threaded into the curls. “They could at least turn on a fan.”
“Right? So, um, what do you think of this place so far?” Dan said. It seemed like a good, normal question to ask, especially after his decidedly
not
normal fainting spell. Dr. Oberst always told him that if he felt anxious in conversation, he should just ask the other person questions and let them do the talking for a minute.
“I could live without staying in an old loony bin, but otherwise it’s cool. What are you here for? Classwise, I mean.”
“I’m going to study history, mostly, and maybe some psychology. What about you?”
“I’ll give you one guess,” Abby replied with a laugh. “And it’s not astrophysics.”
Dan looked at the paint splatters on her shirt and the dark smudges on her hands, traces of pencil rubbed into the creases of her knuckles and palms.
“Um, art?”
“Got it in one!” Abby punched him lightly on the arm. “Yeah, the studio classes here are supposed to be great, so I felt like it was a good chance to work on my technique before portfolios are due for college apps. But who knows, right? There’s so much to choose from.” She spoke quickly, energetically, flitting from thought to thought with hardly a breath in between. Dan nodded and said “Uh-huh” at what he thought were the right moments.
Without discussing it, they drifted toward the open door.
“You feeling all right now?” Abby was saying.
“How do you mean?” Dan paused at the doorway. Outside, a glow-in-the-dark disk flew by. A dozen or so students were congregated on the lawn, playing another impromptu game of Frisbee.
“Before? When it looked like you were about to pass out?”
“Oh, that. Yeah, I’m fine. I think it was just the heat, and I haven’t eaten much today.” It was as good an excuse as any, considering he never knew for sure what triggered the episodes. Honestly, though, he was kind of glad it had happened this time—he wouldn’t have met Abby otherwise.
Dan pointed to the students running around on the grass. “You into sports much?”
“Me?” Abby laughed, playing with one of the feathers in her hair. “Not really. At our school games I’m usually in the stands. I play the piccolo in the marching band. It’s not my favorite thing, but Pops says it’ll make me look ‘well-rounded’ to colleges.”
“I’ve never been one for sports either.” They lingered at the top of the steps, watching the game. “My dad’s a little disappointed.… He was big into baseball as a kid.”
That was an understatement. His adoptive father, Paul, had gone to college on a baseball scholarship, and he’d pressured Dan into T-ball and then junior leagues before Dan finally broke down and told him he’d rather go to science camp.
“Well, if you’re here, then he can’t be
that
disappointed. You’ve got to have brain power just to make it in—” She broke off and started waving vigorously at a guy who was walking toward them. The guy strolled blithely through the Frisbee game, ignoring the players’ shouts for him to get out of the way. Dan looked between Abby and her friend, feeling his stomach sink. Not that he had any claim on her—he’d known her for all of ten minutes—but he had to admit he’d been pretty psyched thinking he’d met another person who’d come here alone, like him. Now he couldn’t help looking at stranger boy, with his broody hair and broody face and cool, broody clothes, and thinking,
Well,
I can’t compete with that
.
“What’s up, nerds?”
“Jordan, be nice,” Abby said, rolling her eyes. “This is Dan. Dan, this is Jordan, and I promise he’s not a jerk.”
“Nope,” Jordan said. “Just an asshole. So how’s it going, Dan? Settling into geek camp all right?” He wore slim, trendy glasses and a shredded green scarf looped loosely around his neck. Dan envied the kid’s perfect five o’clock shadow, something Dan could never emulate given the way his facial hair grew in patches.
“Seriously, Jordan. Who are you trying to impress? I’m sorry, Dan, he’s just showing off. I met him totally by chance on the bus coming here, and he’s really a nice person once you get to know him.” Abby squeaked as Jordan pulled her into a one-armed side hug. Dan felt a strong urge to look away. He didn’t need their canoodling rubbed in his face.
“Fine, fine, wipe the slate.” Jordan stepped back, swept his palms together, and then adjusted his glasses. “I’m Jordan, pleased to meet you. Now stop glaring at me. Abby’s really not my type, all right?”
“God, Jordan, that was
not
an improvement!” Huffing, Abby hugged herself, turning to hide the flush sweeping up to her cheeks.
“I’m sorry, Abbadabadoo, you’re just too easy to tease.”
Dan must have missed something, because then the two of them were laughing hysterically and somehow he’d been knocked sixty miles out of the loop. His confusion must have shown on his face because Abby raised her eyebrows at Jordan, and Jordan, rolling his eyes, explained in a patient voice that made Dan feel like he was about five years old, “I’m gay. That’s why Abby’s not my type.”
“Oh. Right. Yeah.”
Dan didn’t care that Jordan was gay, but he knew anything he might try to say in his defense now would only make him sound like more of a dork. Already Abby and Jordan had moved on to happy, relaxed banter, and just like that, Dan was an outsider looking in. If they could become such close friends over a single bus ride, surely they’d have no problem making other new friends. Friends who weren’t as stiff and clueless as Dan.