Hysteria (15 page)

“It was fun trying to escape together.” He smiled and shook his head to himself, then
put a hand on my back for half a second as he started walking again. “Turns out ventilation
shafts aren’t big like they seem in movies. Or sturdy. At all. Jason got both his
legs stuck. The orientation group had to get oil to get him unstuck. Almost got caught
because of it . . .”

I stopped just inside the Science Center, leaning toward him to hear more. The warning
bell chimed. “I have to go,” I said.

He stepped closer, and people brushed past us, rushing to beat the bell. “So do I,”
he said. Then he raised his hand almost to my face, then dropped it to my shoulder
instead, like he had patted his friend on the shoulder as they parted a few mornings
ago. I winced.

He pulled back his hand and stared at it, like he didn’t know what it was capable
of. “What?” he asked. “I hurt you?”

“No, it’s my shoulder . . . I don’t know . . .” And I pressed myself farther into
the wall.

He leaned closer, put his fingers on the collar of my shirt, like he was waiting for
some sign from me before he pulled it aside. And I felt hot and cold at once, yes
and no, trapping me in indecision.

“Ho-ly shit.”

Reid dropped his hand and I stepped back.

Jason stood in the middle of the hall, half a grin on his face. He stood too close
to Bree, but Bree didn’t seem to mind. And Krista just looked, unblinking. Jason shook
his head and smirked. “Always with the rebounds, Reid.” Then he looked to me. “It’s
his thing. Go for the girl when she’s down. Makes you feel special, doesn’t it?”

I looked to Reid for explanation, but I couldn’t see anything under the anger. But
before Reid could even open his mouth, Krista put her hands up, palm out. “Well, boys,
this sure has been enlightening. But I believe we’re all late for class.”

The overhead speakers buzzed and Krista and Bree slipped into the classroom.

Jason smirked again and took off running for the end of the hall. And I stood there,
feeling like I was missing the pieces to some puzzle
—
like I could only see the upper corner and had no idea what pieces I even needed to
complete the rest of the picture.

“I’m late,” Reid said.

“Me too.” I stepped toward the doorway of the classroom and heard Reid’s footsteps
echo down the hall. My shoulder throbbed every time I moved it.

“Ms. Murphy.” Dr. Arnold raised her pen into the air and jabbed it in my direction.
“Are you planning to join us this morning?”

I felt the throb in my shoulder again, and the blood draining from my face. “Mallory?
Are you okay?”

“I’m going to be sick,” I said, bracing myself against the door frame.

“Go,” she said.

I backed out of the doorway and ran down the hall toward the bathroom. I leaned over
the sink and pulled my shirt down over my left shoulder, where Reid had touched me.
Underneath, the faint red marks had turned dark. Bruised. I turned around and looked
at my back. There was another bruise, like from a thumb.

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought
it’s only real if I let it be.

I opened my eyes, but the marks were still there. I really was going to be sick. Air.
I needed air. I ran down the empty hallway, out into the bright late-morning sun,
and took a deep breath. Two teachers were walking up the path from the other direction
—
they’d see me any second, so I kept moving. I ran through campus, out the side gate,
across the street, down the path. To the old student center, where there was nothing
but the remains of what used to be.

I sat on a half-wall, trying to think of nothing, and listened to the wind. I watched
the leaves move with the breeze.

Everything shifted a little to the left with a strong gust. And I saw something past
the student center, farther into the woods. A path. This wasn’t the end of campus.
I stood, brushed the dirt from my khaki pants, and crept over the bricks to the far
corner. The path was narrow, but it was a definite path. It wound through the trunks,
and as I followed, it narrowed.

A pile of rocks stood just off the side of the path with a small wooden cross standing
in the middle, nearly overgrown with weeds now. There was something carved into the
wood, in boxy letters. I pushed the weeds down.
danvers jack. gone but not forgotten.
The cross split under the weight of my hands, bringing ruin, like usual. I tried
to prop it back up, and I felt an engraving on the other side. I flipped the piece
over and read the other side, jagged letters etched into the rotting wood.
forgotten but not gone.

Wind rustled the leaves, and a few scattered down to the ground, a burnt orange, turning
early. I wondered if Jack Danvers or Danvers Jack or whatever his name was haunted
these woods. If he was tied to them now. If others could feel him, if they believed
he wasn’t truly gone.

I stood up and walked farther down the path, weeds popping up with more frequency,
until I wasn’t sure I was on the path anymore.

I spun around, and all I saw were trees. My breath caught, and I spun around in a
full circle. The ground all looked the same, clusters of weeds breaking up the rocks
and dirt. Trees everywhere. I put my hand on the nearest trunk, the one I had stopped
at, and oriented myself in the direction I had been walking, then took two huge, deliberate
steps backward. I looked down and saw the difference. A faint path, a little more
worn than where I had just been. I stepped backward again. Then I turned around, kept
my eyes down on the ground, and started moving, following the weeds as they became
sparser and sparser and I was back on the path again. Until I was next to the broken
cross.

My heart beat fast. I had almost gotten lost. I saw how the woods could’ve swallowed
him up so easily. They could’ve swallowed me up like that. I wondered how long it
would be before someone would’ve noticed I was missing and come looking. How long
it would take for me to go from
Gone but not forgotten
to
Forgotten but not gone.

Chapter 8

I
returned to campus for the rest of classes, stopping by Dr. Arnold’s classroom beforehand
to pick up my work. “Did you see the nurse?” she asked.

“Oh no, I think it was just something I ate.”

“Usually you can only be excused by a note from the nurse. I’ll let it slide this
time, but you need to make up the lab. I’ll be here this afternoon, if you’re feeling
up to it.”

“Sure,” I said. Not like I had any other plans. There was a pep rally tonight, but
I wasn’t exactly feeling peppy, or like rallying.

That afternoon, Dr. Arnold stayed in the room with me while I completed the experiment.
I had to build a list of circuits and answer some math questions that went along with
it. Dr. Arnold looked over my shoulder at the completed circuits, and I stopped writing.
“Nice work, Mallory. You’re a natural.”

I wondered if I would’ve been a natural at chemistry, too, if I had actually done
my homework at night and not with Dylan during study hall. If I had paid more attention
to the book and less attention to him. Or if I hadn’t been watching him instead of
the beakers during class. If I would’ve given Brian a second glance if Dylan hadn’t
been my lab partner. If he would’ve caught me staring on the boardwalk.

A long line of ifs that didn’t matter anyway because it was done.

That evening, I could hear the pep rally cheers all the way across campus. But there
were no sounds coming from the dorm itself. I lay on my bed catching up on the rest
of the summer reading, even though I’d already read the basic plot in Chloe’s study
books. Turns out I wasn’t half bad as a student after all. I flipped the page and
something caught my eye outside.

Smoke rose up from below my window. My stomach knotted, and I debated just running
out the door, calling for help, something. But I didn’t need any more rumors about
me circulating campus. I kept the window closed but placed my forehead against it,
looking down. Expecting the worst. I let out my breath and watched as it fogged the
window.

Bree was down there, leaning against the bricks, sucking on a cigarette and blowing
smoke toward the trees. I thought about opening the window, telling her to go somewhere
else, leave her discarded cigarette butts under her own window, but I didn’t. Her
left hand was shaking, just the slightest tremor. Someone called her name
—
I could hear it through my window pane. A girl’s voice. Krista, I thought. Bree looked
in the direction of the voice, and very slowly pressed herself farther against the
bricks.

Apparently, soccer was big here. Like, really big. Saturday after lunch, the whole
student body abandoned center campus and swarmed past the athletic center to the biggest
of three soccer fields. I heard the buzz at the cafeteria as I grabbed a bagel to
go
—
apparently, this was a big rivalry. Us versus some prep school from Vermont. I pushed
back to my dorm as a sea of red T-shirts flew by me.

The dorm was nearly empty by the time I got back. Except for some guy I didn’t know
sneaking into the room of some girl I didn’t know, taking advantage of the fact that
no one was around. I fed dollar bills into the coin machine in the basement, went
back upstairs to the pay phone, and tried calling Colleen. Her cell went straight
to voice mail, and I lost the money. I tried her home phone, even though I knew the
chances of her picking up were nearly zero, but I was desperate. It just rang and
rang and rang. It didn’t go to the answering machine, which meant someone was on the
phone. Her mom, probably. Maybe she saw our New Hampshire number on the Caller ID
and chose not to pick up. I was sure she was glad I was gone. Gone, and hopefully
forgotten.

I hung up and my coins came pouring back out, overflowing the coin dispenser and scattering
along the floor. The giggling in the room down the hall stopped, like they thought
I was a teacher or something.

And I hated silence.

So I called that stupid 800 number my dad had set up for me.

“Mallory!” Mom said as soon as she picked up. “And it’s not even Sunday!”

Sunday being the day I was supposed to call.

Then, after processing the information
—
daughter calling when daughter did not need to call
—
she added, “Is everything okay?”

“Sure, Mom. Just calling to say hi.”

After a beat of silence: “I’m so glad you did! I’ve missed you. I miss you.”

“Me too,” I said, because that’s what you say when someone says it first. Except as
soon as the words escaped my mouth, I realized they were true. I sunk into the plastic
chair beside the pay phone.

“Well, tell me what you’ve been up to, love. Tell me everything.”

But her voice through the phone had this effect, tightening my airway, so I couldn’t
get any words out without everything coming pouring out, like the coins. “I’m good,”
I whispered.

Mom’s voice dropped lower as she said, “Do you want to come home?”

Yes.
“No,” I said. Because it wasn’t just my mom at home. It was a whole life, a whole
horrifying mistake, and it was terrible. And she sounded so much better with me gone.
She sounded like her old self again. Like the mom I missed. She hadn’t been that person
since the night Brian bled out on our kitchen floor. “I was just calling to say hi,”
I said again. “But I gotta go.”

“All right,” she said. “Tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow.”

The silence was back. I walked to my room and opened the door, and as it squeaked
open, I felt that fullness to the room, like my kitchen at home. The room felt charged,
like it was waiting for some spark. Like it was waiting for
me.
And it craved. Oh, how I could feel it, deep in my bones, wanting me.

I pulled the door closed again, turned my key in the lock, and ran out the lounge
door. I ran to that soccer game like I was the biggest fan this school had ever seen.