Sanctum (6 page)

“Who’s ‘we’?” Dan asked, his eyes roaming across the front lawns of all the frat houses. Some of them had yards that were littered with trash.

“Reasonable folks,” Micah answered directly. “You’d know what I meant if you went here.”

“I bet,” Dan replied. He pointed his thumb over his shoulder toward the way they’d come. “We saw a guy passed out near some gravestones. He didn’t look too good.”

“Sig Tau douche bags can’t hold their liquor. Sorry, pardon my French. Just don’t like those guys. They’re always throwing ragers and one kid or another is getting alcohol poisoning. It’s a damn disgrace. Like I said, we’ll make sure they get gone this year.” Micah motioned to the same redheaded boy who had collected the wandering prospie. Out of breath, the boy jogged up to them as they continued their way across campus. “Dan here says there’s a Sig Tau pledge passed out near the cemetery. Get someone to check on him, yeah?”

“Sure,” the boy said, nodding eagerly. “As soon as we—”

“No, Jimmy. Now. We got prospies all over the place—trying to set an example here. Don’t want them thinking we’re just a bunch of drunken morons.”

Jimmy nodded so hard Dan could hear his neck crack.

“Wow,” Dan said, watching Jimmy trail off behind the group. “Are you like head host or something?”

“Who? Me?” Micah laughed, throwing back his head. “Nah, nah . . . We just like to keep things orderly is all.”

It struck Dan as more than orderly, but he wanted to disappear, not call attention to himself, so he nodded politely and kept his eyes forward.

“Hey!” Abby dropped back to walk next to him, bringing her host with her. “This is Lara. Lara, this is Dan. She was just telling me about this art installation she’s working on for her semester project.”

“Oh, cool.” Dan reached across Abby to shake the girl’s hand. She was short, only just clearing Abby’s shoulder, and her dark, glossy black hair swung back and forth, cut into a severe wedge around her face. “Nice to meet you, Lara.”

“Seriously, I can’t wait to see her installation,” Abby raced on. “It’s a mixed-media room with statue pieces and music and live models. She’s going to take me to check it out tomorrow!”

“
Actually
, it’s an auto-destructive critique of the masks we wear as people of color to erase our heritage and become white,” Lara said in a flat monotone. She was either a master of deadpan humor or deadly serious. Maybe all college students just spoke a different language.

“That . . . sounds complex,” Dan said.

“
Complex
. Don’t get her started,” Micah bit out from clenched teeth. “She’ll talk your ear off about Dada futurism mumbo jumbo, who even knows what all.”

“Despite what your folksy Southern upbringing told you, ignorance is not becoming. Much to the contrary, in fact,” Lara said darkly.
“Much
.
”

“Jeez. Tense much?” Jordan popped up between Abby and Dan, leaning his elbows onto their shoulders. “Relationship gone wrong?”

“I’d really rather not talk about it,” Micah said tightly. “Anyway, like I was saying . . . If you want in on any particular classes, Dan, you just let me know. I’ll make it happen.”

“That’s really nice of you, thanks,” Dan said, brushing off Jordan’s elbow.

“Hope you guys aren’t too hungry,” Micah added. “We’ve got a bit of an orientation planned before we eat. It’ll go down in Erickson, but I s’pose you know where that is since you stayed there over the summer.”

“Actually, we stayed in Brookline,” Dan said.

They crossed one last street that separated the row of fraternity and sorority houses from the main circle of dorms.

Micah looked at him funny, and Dan realized he’d acted like he hardly knew anything about Brookline a minute ago. He was going to have to do better keeping his stories straight.

“You’ll have to tell me all about that. I’ve heard crazy stories about that place,” Micah said finally.

And then, as if on command, there it was.

Dan thought he would be prepared for this moment—it was just a building, after all, and he had no reason to go in it now. Felix’s addresses were all off campus. But it didn’t matter. Dan stared up at its chipping white facade and the sagging columns struggling to support the roof and he shivered. And yet there was that magnet in his chest. It pulled him not just to the college but to Brookline itself, and a serpentine voice in the back of his head whispered, “Welcome home, Daniel.”

Chapter 8

I
nside the newly renovated, warm Erickson Dormitory, Dan finally felt the chilly influence of Brookline break. The volunteers led them up to the third floor, where a bank of overstuffed couches had been set up along the walls in a U shape. A few students disappeared down the hall, taking piles of luggage to a room to be sorted and divvied out later by host and dorm building.

Dan grabbed a seat between Abby and Jordan, who clambered out of their coats and scarves, red-faced and sweating from the jump in temperature. It was almost too warm in the spacious common room, overcrowded with bodies and furniture.

“My host seems nice,” Dan whispered to them.

“Mine’s okay,” Jordan replied with a shrug. “Not very bright, and a little WASPy, but okay.”

“Lara is awesome.” As if to prove it, Abby gave her host a little wave. All the student volunteers stood near the archway leading out into the hall. There was an elevator on the right side of the room and windows all along the wall behind where the prospies sat. Dan felt the cold from outside seeping in when one of the hosts finally opened a door. Jordan’s host began pulling orange folders from a few cardboard boxes and passing them out to the various rows.

“You don’t think she’s a little . . . frigid?” Jordan asked. “I’m getting some serious
robot, type A
vibes off of that one.”

“She’s serious about art, Jordan,” Abby muttered. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Find your folder, please,” Jordan’s host instructed. “They’re all labeled.”

“At least you two got paired with hosts who have stuff in common with you. Don’t ask how I got paired up with Cal because I have no frakking clue,” Jordan whispered. “He’s an
economics
major.”

“Economics involves math,” Dan suggested. “Right?”

“Maybe for most people. I get the impression Cal is just trying to learn how to handle a trust fund.”

“How could you know that already?” Abby whispered. “I say give the guy a break.”

“I will not. He’s wearing boat shoes. Ugh. Boat shoes and he is nowhere near a stupid boat. Justify that, Captain Tolerance.”

“What are you even—you know what, never mind.”

Abby handed him one of the orange folders, and then Dan quickly located his before passing the remaining stack along. He cracked open his folder to find a long schedule of events he did not plan on attending. Abby had been right—the “Campus Carnival” for prospies took the top spot in a huge font.

“If you have an emergency,” Cal was saying at the front of the room, “you’ll find the list of campus numbers in your folder. Any phone on campus can connect you easily to the main switchboard if you just dial 555 . . .”

He droned on about safety precautions and campus policies, but Dan had stopped paying attention. A small, sharp elbow was prodding him repeatedly in the ribs.

“Ouch. What?”

“That kid,” Abby murmured, nodding discreetly to a boy just down the row from them. He glared back at Dan through a curtain of stringy black hair. “He’s been staring at you ever since we walked in here.”

“So? He’s probably just socially awkward.” Dan would know. He couldn’t rightly say he was completely out of his shy nerd phase himself. “Or is there something on my face?”

“Dan, it’s not funny. He’s . . .
off
. I don’t think he’s blinked for the last five minutes.”

“She’s right,” Jordan hissed, chiming in so suddenly Dan jumped a little in his seat. “His eyes are all glassy.”

“He’s a host, too,” Abby pointed out. “He’s wearing one of the volunteer shirts.”

“I’m calling it now,” said Jordan. “Dude’s wasted.”

Carefully, Dan turned his head to look at the kid again—he didn’t even seem to be
breathing
he was so still. And Dan had to admit, that look did make him feel unsettled. There was no mistaking it—unless the kid was bird-watching out the window behind Dan, he was staring unblinkingly, intently, directly at him.

“Maybe Jordan’s right, he’s stoned or something. Anyway, we’re not here to worry about that crap, or Jordan’s problem with Cal’s stupid shoes—”

“
Hey,
” Jordan said.

“So let’s keep some focus,” Dan finished. He didn’t want to look at the staring kid anymore. Between him and the cold air radiating against the back of his neck, Dan was starting to get a distinctly creepy vibe about their weekend residence.

And this is supposed to be one of the good dorms.

“I hope you all plan on coming to the carnival,” Cal said, flashing them a trust-fund-worthy smile. “We’re bringing it back this year and you lucky folks are just in time to see it. Usually Student Affairs just organizes some half-assed trick-or-treating thing for the weekend.”

“The volunteers here and the college faculty really went all out,” Micah assured the room. “Food, entertainment, the whole nine yards. The Dance Department volunteered a few kids to do acrobatics, and the fencing club is doing a demonstration. We hope all of you find the time to make it down with your hosts—we haven’t had anything like this on campus in, well, definitely not since I’ve gone here, so who knows.”

“Any questions?” Cal didn’t seem much interested in Micah’s clarifications. Jordan, apparently bored already, had taken out a slip of paper with a sudoku puzzle on it and was solving it against his leg.

“Good. Now, if you could all find your hosts again we can help you choose which classes you’d like to sit in on and make sure you find your luggage and room.” Cal beckoned for them to come and reunite with their hosts. Dan stood up and stretched, watching as Abby shuffled forward to reconnect with Lara.

Over the fireplace to his left hung a giant black-and-white photograph of a man, ironically, standing in the exact spot where the picture now lived. The subject bore a vague resemblance to Cal, he thought, same privileged smile and casually coiffed hair.

“Daniel Crawford?”

Dan started, feeling a clammy breath rush right against the side of his neck. Turning, Dan found the staring black-haired volunteer standing so close to his shoulder they were practically touching. His breath smelled of an old tuna sandwich.

“Can . . . Can I help you?” Dan stammered, finding that even when he took a step back, the boy followed. His eyes, Dan noted, didn’t just look glassy but
hollow
.

“Daniel Crawford.” It wasn’t a question now, but a statement.

“Uh, yes, that’s me. What’s up?”

“Daniel Crawford . . . Daniel Crawford . . .” The host repeated his name over and over again, each time louder, a note of hysteria and then panic pitching his voice higher and higher. “Daniel Crawford. DANIEL CRAWFORD.”

Dan reeled back, knocking into the couch behind him and slamming down into it so hard his jaw rattled.

“Jeez, what the—”

The rest of the room heard the commotion and suddenly they had an audience. Dan scrambled back deeper into the couch, convinced the weird kid was going to start crawling all over him.

“Daniel Crawford . . . Daniel Crawford . . . You’re not finished. Daniel Crawford, you’re not finished, not yet . . .”

“Stop it! STOP SAYING THAT!” Dan hoped his own screaming would drown out the boy’s voice. For a second, it did. Then the boy went quiet, smiled a strange, sad smile at Dan, and said softly, “You’re not finished, Daniel Crawford. Time is running out, Daniel, and you’re not finished. Get out, get out of here now, go, go . . .” He clutched his head, grimacing.

Above the noise he heard Cal’s voice across the room, his snapping fingers. . . . “Hey!” Cal was shouting. “Hey! Doug! Snap out of it!
Wake up!
”

Then as if in slow motion, Dan watched the boy scramble onto the next couch over, shoulder open the window, punch out the screen, and throw himself toward the cold open space.

Chapter 9

D
an froze. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he needed to help, but none of his limbs responded when he tried to move.

Someone screamed, maybe Abby, and then Dan came to. The black-haired boy hadn’t quite managed to fit himself through the window with his first try, and one arm and half a sneaker were still visible hooked around the ledge. With a grunt, Dan shot forward, leaping onto the couches and grabbing what could still be seen of the host. Dan heaved backward with all his weight. The two of them crashed to the floor, and in the time it took Dan to draw his next breath, Cal and Lara were there to help wrestle the boy to the ground.

A hand closed around Dan’s right biceps and squeezed. He started away violently.

“It’s me! It’s just me!” Abby was there at his side, peering down into his face with concern. “What happened? Why was he screaming at you?”