Fear Hall: The Beginning (7 page)

I might have saved Dave's life.

T
hat evening, Dave and I went out to dinner. The plan was to grab a quick, early bite and then go to the library to study.

We walked to Murphy's, a coffee shop a few blocks from the campus. The cold winds had vanished, and the air felt warm and sweet. Almost springlike.

Back in Fear Hall, I'd had a terrible time deciding what to wear. It was kind of like a first date, and I wanted to look just right.

I didn't want to dress up at all. I mean, I had to look casual. I had to look like myself. But I didn't want to look as if I didn't care how I looked.

The usual panic time.

Until Hope offered to lend me her black silk top
and short black skirt. I found a pair of dark purple tights—and I was set.

I checked myself out in the closet door mirror. “Awesome,” I told myself. Sexy, but not trying too hard.

I met Dave downstairs. He was talking with two girls I'd seen around the dorm. They all laughed about something. Then one of them gave Dave a playful shove.

Watching them, I felt instantly jealous. Both girls seemed to know Dave better than I did.

I also felt a little disappointed that he hadn't dressed up at all. He was wearing the same jeans and oversized flannel shirt he wore in sociology class that afternoon.

But when he smiled at me, I forgot all of my complaints.

I really like this guy, I realized as I hurried across the dorm lobby to him. I really want this to work out.

“Hey—you look great,” he said, his smile growing wider.

“My roommate lent me this,” I admitted, gesturing to the top and skirt.

He laughed. “That's the best kind of roommate. A roommate who's the same size as you are!”

He pulled a piece of lint from my hair. His fingers brushed my forehead. My skin tingled where he had touched me.

We stepped out into the warm evening and made our way toward the coffee shop. Some kids were flying
kites on The Triangle. Two red dragon kites had become tangled. They appeared to wrestle each other, their heads bobbing and ducking in their silent fight.

A blue Frisbee came flying toward us. Dave jumped high and brought it down. He flipped it back to its owner, who came running across the grass.

“It's really like spring,” Dave said, grinning. “It's awesome. Everyone has spring fever—and it's nearly winter!”

“I love it,” I said, taking his arm.

As we approached the front of Murphy's, the three M's—Melanie, Mary, and Margie—came walking out. “Hey, Hope—how's it going?” Melanie called.

I laughed. “It's me! I'm only wearing her clothes!” I called back.

Mary said something to Margie I couldn't hear. They waved and hurried off.

Dave held open the restaurant door for me.

“This is my day for being mistaken for Hope,” I grumbled. “I really don't think we look that much alike—do we?”

Dave shrugged and followed me inside. “I've never met Hope,” he replied. “But I'm sure you're much better looking.”

I laughed. And slid into a booth against the wall. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I teased.

We had a nice dinner. I felt so comfortable and relaxed with Dave. We talked and laughed together, as if we'd known each other for a long time.

I told him about Hope, and Angel, and Jasmine. How different we all are. But how close we've become.

And I told him about the mix-up in history class this morning. How embarrassed I was that I had to leave.

“Did you get it straightened out?” Dave asked.

“I didn't have a chance,” I told him. “I'm going to go see the dean tomorrow morning.”

Dave talked about Michael, his older brother. He said he was worried about Michael.

Michael had been a champion basketball player in college. He had articles written about him in
Sports Illustrated,
and he was always talked about on TV sports shows.

He was a great college player—but he wasn't tall enough or strong enough to play in the NBA. Michael graduated last spring, Dave told me. And he hasn't done anything since.

He misses being a star. He misses all the attention, all the cheers and applause.

“It's like his life is already over,” Dave said sadly. “He was a superstar in college. Now there's nowhere for him to go but down.”

Dave's expression changed. “That's why I'm glad I'm such a big nothing. I have no talents and no skills. So I'm a happy guy.”

He laughed.

“Hey, that's not true!” I protested.

“Oh, really?” he teased. “What talent do I have?”

“Well …” I grinned at him. “You can grow a very cute beard.”

I tugged at the red fuzz under his chin.

He pretended to be insulted. “Cute? Cute? Do you really think I was trying for
cute?
” He slapped my hand away. “Stop pulling on it. It isn't glued on that well.”

It felt so great to be sitting in this restaurant, laughing and joking with such a sweet guy. I wondered if he really liked me. I wondered if we'd start to see a lot of each other.

I knew I wasn't as pretty as Jasmine. And I wasn't as slinky and sexy as Angel.

But Dave didn't seem to mind.

After we had our second cup of coffee, we split the check. Then we made our way outside.

The sun had set while we were in the restaurant. The sky was a deep purple with traces of pink. The air still felt warm and springlike.

The streetlights hadn't come on. Lights from store windows spilled over the sidewalk. Car headlights swept brightly over the building fronts.

“It's too nice out to go study in a stuffy library,” Dave said, gazing up at the sky.

I walked close beside him. “What do you want to do?”

Before he could answer, a figure leaped out from the side of a shoe store.

His face was hidden in shadow. His body was covered by a long raincoat, down nearly to the ground.

“Hey—” I cried out as he hurtled into Dave.

Diving from the darkness, the figure lowered his shoulder—and smashed it hard into Dave's stomach.

Dave uttered a startled groan. Grabbed his stomach.

And staggered limply back against the wall.

“Noooo!” he pleaded—as the figure prepared to attack again.

I
froze in horror.

Dave raised his hands above his head to protect himself.

A car roared around the corner. Its headlights rolled over the tall figure in the raincoat.

He tossed back his head, grinning, eyes flashing.

“Gideon!” Dave cried angrily. “You creep!”

“Huh?” I gasped, squinting into the darkness. Yes. It was Dave's friend from the restaurant. Not wearing a bandanna. But I recognized him now.

Dave lurched away from the building and wrapped his hands around Gideon's throat. “You creep!” he repeated. “You scared me to death!” He pretended to strangle his friend.

Gideon laughed and pulled away. The long raincoat
swirled around him. “You were so scared, your beard flew off!”

“Where did you come from?” Dave demanded.

“Cleveland,” Gideon joked. He laughed at his own joke. “No. Actually, I was walking by. On my way to a friend's apartment. I saw you two in Murphy's. So I decided to wait for you. Give you a little surprise.”

He turned and seemed to notice me for the first time. “Hi, Eden.” He pushed back his black hair, then straightened the collar on the big raincoat.

“You scared me too,” I confessed.

“I'm a scary guy,” Gideon replied.

“Want to come with us?” Dave suggested. “Eden and I were trying to think of a way to avoid going to the library.”

Gideon snickered. “I can think of a
lot
of ways for a guy and a girl to avoid the library.”

“Maybe we'll go to that driving range on Fulton,” Dave said, ignoring Gideon's meaning. “Hit a few buckets.” He turned to me. “Do you play golf?”

“Well, no,” I replied. “But I've always wanted to try it.”

“I'm a great teacher,” Dave said. He put his hands together in a golf grip, leaned forward, and swung an invisible club. Then he turned to Gideon. “How about it? You coming?”

Gideon shook his head. “I should. I could give you a few pointers. But I told you, I'm on my way to my friend's apartment. You remember Joanne. From back home.”

He glanced at his watch. “I'm only half an hour late.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “That's right on time for you.”

“Later,” Gideon called, hurrying off, his raincoat flapping behind him.

“I owe him one,” Dave murmured, watching his friend vanish around the corner. “I owe him a good scare. My heart is still pounding.”

Dave and I were the only ones at the driving range. The young man in the tiny clubhouse gave us a bucket of golf balls. But he told us to hit them quickly. He wanted to close up.

I started to pick up a club from the rack against the wall. But Dave stopped me.

“Not that one,” he instructed. “That's a wood. You're not ready for a wood yet.”

“A wood? But it's made out of metal!” I protested.

“It's still called a wood,” Dave replied. He handed me a smaller club. “This is a five iron. Let's start with this.”

Carrying the bucket of golf balls, he led the way along the row of empty booths. Bright spotlights made the field glow brighter than daylight. A heavy dew had fallen. The grass shone wetly at our feet.

“We'll start out by learning the grip,” Dave announced, stopping at the very last tee. “Then I'll show you how to swing.”

He dropped a handful of balls to the grass. “Watch me a few times.”

He took the club, gripped it, placing his hands carefully, holding them up so I could see. Then he leaned over the ball. Took a few short practice swings. Pulled his shoulders back—and hit the ball.

I squinted into the bright light and watched it sail up and off to the right.

Dave grinned at me. “Not very good. I'm a little rusty.”

He motioned for me to step over to the tee. I picked up the club he had given me and started over to him.

But something made me stop.

A sound.

A feeling. A feeling that we were no longer alone.

I spun around—and saw him, saw his pale eyes, his features tight with anger.

“Darryl!” I choked out. “Darryl—what are you
doing
here?”

“T
he most important thing to remember,” Dave was saying, “is not to move your head.”

Dave had his back to me. He didn't see Darryl move toward us.

“Darryl—please!” I cried “It's me—Eden. I'm just wearing Hope's outfit!”

Darryl ignored me. His eyes lowered to the club in my hand.

I raised it, as if to fight him off.

But he snatched it away with one hand. Grabbed it and pushed me aside.

“Dave—!” I tried to warn him.

But he had his head lowered, his body arched, preparing to swing again.

“Dave—!” I screamed.

Too late.

Darryl raised the metal club—pulled it back and swung it like a baseball bat.

Swung it at Dave's head.

The club made a solid
thunnnk
as it hit. And then I heard a disgusting ripping sound.

“Ohhhhh!” I uttered a horrified moan as the club caught Dave behind the ear.

The ripping sound … the horrible ripping … like Velcro being pulled apart …

And Dave's ear sailed up … up … into the bright glare of the spotlights.

I turned my eyes away before it came down.

Dave let out a roar. A roar of pain. Of shock.

Blood gushed out the side of his head. Eyes bulging, mouth open, Dave raised his hand to cover the hole.

But Darryl swung again.

This time the club caught Dave's cheek.

Dave cried out again. Dropped to his knees.

“Nooooooo!” An animal wail burst from my throat. “Darryl—noooooo!”

Darryl swung again. The club grazed the top of Dave's head, scraping off a patch of his auburn hair.

“Please! Pleeeeeease!” I moaned.

Dave was hunched on his knees. Rocking back and forth. Hands raised. Blood dripping from his head. Flowing down his jacket.

Darryl pulled the club back. He let out a groan as he swung once again with all his strength.

The club smashed into Dave's throat.

He uttered a choked gurgle.

His eyes rolled up in his head. And he crumbled facedown in the blood-stained grass.

“Darryl—no! No!
No!
”

I watched helplessly as Darryl swung again. Again. Beating Dave's unmoving body.

“No! No! No!”

I spun away. I couldn't watch anymore.

My stomach lurched. I started to sway over.

Caught my balance.

And struggled to run.

Away. Got to get away.

My shoes slipping over the silvery, wet grass.

I ran. Covered in blood. Covered in Dave's warm blood.

I ran

And didn't look back.

part four
 
Hope