by Emme DeWitt
My eye caught the antique porcelain crocks that lined the counter, thoughtfully labeled in winding script. I popped the lid to the smallest one and grabbed a handful of honey packets. Adele had promised to stock the new house with my favorite cough drops but hadn’t foreseen my alternate arrangements. The honey packets would have to do for now.
I made a beeline for the front door, pausing in the blustery mudroom at the amusing sight that caught my attention.
In front of me, a gloved hand stuck out. Another, this one a bright yellow sport glove extended far enough to nearly touch my cheek, waved from behind the first. All along the wall, various coat hooks and knobs stuck out. Several were occupied by gloves, some by hats, and many by an army of jackets. Woven throughout all these were scarves, linking various items in a psychedelic traffic system. Clearly, what had been intended only for practical use had been repurposed into a living protest piece by the students who lived in the dorms. Even the boots were stacked to mimic the waves of the sea instead of using the orderly, symmetric slots as they had been intended.
If this was how people dealt with winter up here, I was going to need some serious amendments to my wardrobe. Snowshoes perhaps.
Thinking back to my brief encounter with the brochure doll trio, I was glad I was in the rickety old dorm. I had a feeling they wouldn’t be visiting much, and even though the thought of winter annoyed me, I much preferred mismatched gloves and Nordic headwear. Practicality over style would get my vote any day.
I strode confidently out into the brisk morning air but had to buckle into myself against the temperature.
“Absolutely ungodly,” I howled through chattering teeth, wincing as every pass of wind cut through my clothes. I jogged down the dirt path, happy for any shelter. Half-frozen tears stuck to my eyes and blurred the path in front of me. I vaguely recalled having a map in my bag but dismissed the idea as soon as I realized I would have to unearth my bare hands from their pocket sanctuary to retrieve it. Not worth it.
I reached a fork in the path, which had finally joined the cobblestones of the academic quad. My body careened left and up the stairs, finding myself coming from the opposite side of the dining hall than I had the day before. Good to know.
The heavy doors were no match for my desperation to escape the elements. I lunged inside, uncharacteristically twisting behind me to close the door before the wind could get any other ideas. I braced against the gloss-stained wood as the feeling returned to my fingers and nose.
For a moment, I thought about emailing Mags to bring a coat for me to class, but I balked. Once the sun was higher, it would warm up. I just had to make it in between buildings for the most part, and my entire morning would be relegated to the library anyway.
Anything to avoid going back out in the cold air too soon.
I stood up straight, shaking off the momentary lapse in judgement and the remaining shivers that had attached themselves all the way down my spine. I fished my phone out of my jacket pocket, finding the time to be an amazing 5:15. I wasn’t sure when breakfast started, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t have to fight any other students for a good spot in line.
Something moved in my peripheral vision. Just a quick flash as I scrolled mindlessly through my email and notifications. My head snapped up, but my eyes couldn’t lock on the target. I scanned the entire hall. Not a soul was there. Save me.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose but making sure not to smudge what little eye makeup I’d managed to slap on. Coffee. Forget tea, I needed coffee.
I shouldered my way through the assembly line door. The trays were out for the cold options while the burners simmered pools of water, readying for the hot options. Bangs and shouts from the kitchen crew filled the small space, but the noise was comforting. It reminded me of family dinners in Chicago when I was a kid and my aunts and uncles shouted at each other over smoky pans of oil and mountains of chopped vegetables.
My eyes caught the percolator in the corner, and I busied myself with making as black a coffee as I could manage. The semi-automatic machine had too many options, so I ended up hitting the espresso button until the cup was half full before hitting the black coffee button. Belatedly, I realized the caffeine content might cause me to see other imaginary objects, but I was in too deep by that point. I promised myself I would have a nice big carb load to fill the hole in my stomach lining this caffeine bomb would create, but I hadn’t seen any bagels on my brief survey of the breakfast smorgasbord.
I turned quickly on my heel, determined to find bread of some sort among the sea of half-filled trays since the heat of the poorly insulated disposable cup had seeped through to my palms. I looked up in enough time to register the hit before I joined my newly brewed coffee on the floor.
Eight
“Dammit.” The heap sighed next to me.
I looked forlornly at the coffee spilled all over the floor, tarnishing the pristine glimmer of the marble. Who puts marble in a school kitchen anyway? One of the bobby pins in my hair was stabbing my scalp, but no other serious injury registered in my brain. Way too early to deal with blood loss anyway.
The grumbles continued from the heap of a person next to me as I sat up and checked my uniform for stains. My nose crinkled at the thought of having to venture back through the cold to change clothes so soon after I regained feeling in my extremities.
“Who has any business moving that fast at this hour of the morning?” the mass grumbled.
My eyes squinted briefly, trying to place the voice.
“Good morning to you, too, Sean.” I straightened before the pool of coffee could soak my butt. The disposable cup lay off to the side, and I thanked whatever luck I had that it wasn’t a ceramic mug that had broken.
I wasn’t superstitious, but enough bad omens before lunchtime and a person might get a complex.
“Noah?” Sean finally hauled his torso upright to confront his opponent. He rubbed his ears delicately, and I could see the tangle of earbuds in his jacket and blazer combo. I felt a slight ping of guilt, but it was gone before I could blink. “What the hell are you doing up this early?”
I offered my hand, and he hopped up gratefully.
“I could ask the same.” I left him to adjust his haphazard layers so I could pick up the empty cup from the pool of coffee at our feet. I waved it in his face. “Should I make it a double this time?”
“Seriously.” Sean rubbed his whole face with his hands. “I’ll take five of whatever you’re having.”
I tossed the cup in the open can next to the beverage bar and began the process again, this time making sure not to move too quickly and spook Sean again.
“Long night?” I asked, pausing only to hand him the first coffee.
He accepted it with a brief sheepish smile, lifting it in cheers before he took a long pull. I nodded in understanding and resumed making my own coffee.
“Easy to lose track of time down there,” Sean said as I finally took a sip of my new coffee.
I turned around to face him, leaning back onto the counter as I nursed my drink. “Working or playing?” I asked.
Sean shrugged in response.
“Just practicing. I have some auditions coming up, so I have to memorize a lot of new pieces. Pretty stiff competition out there.” He shrugged again. “Same old, same old.”
“You a Landing kid?” I asked him.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Are you asking if I really need to practice if mommy or daddy can buy me a spot?” Sean shot back.
I waited him out, taking another sip of my coffee.
He bristled at my lack of response. “It doesn’t work like that in music conservatories. You actually have to have talent. Talent comes from practice,” Sean said, “Scholarship kids don’t have a monopoly on that, last time I checked.”
I took another sip of my coffee. Sean fidgeted with his earbuds.
“Anyway,” he said, “I have to get back to practice.”
He turned to storm out the door,
but I grabbed him by the arm.
“Hey.” I caught his heated gaze. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Of course not,” Sean threw back at me, his shoulder stiff as I held on.
“I really didn’t, okay?” I said. “I’m not trying to say anything about your work ethic or whether you should need it or not. I don’t know your story. I’m just not good at giving context sometimes.”
Sean brushed my hand off his arm, but his body seemed to relax a little at my half apology.
“I forget you’re new here,” Sean said. “You’ll find out soon enough. You’ll know everyone’s story by the end of the week. And they’ll know yours.”
“Doubtful,” I said, “but thanks for the warning.”
Sean frowned at me and took a long time to look away. I wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but he must have found whatever it was. He scratched his jaw, looking through dead air for a while.
“I’m not really sure what’s going on at this school, but I don’t think it’s possible for you to stay out of it,” Sean said, finally breaking his pensive silence.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I can’t put my finger on it. Weird things have been happening, and everyone just seems to go along with it. I’m not really attached to the gossip network around here, but it all started right about the time of Colm’s accident.” Sean crushed his cup and tossed it in the trash can.
“Your friend? The one whose practice room I’m using?” I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise slowly in apprehension.
“Friend might be a strong word, but okay,” Sean replied. “Everyone’s turned into this crazy hive mind. It’s the creepiest thing.” He shook his head.
“High schools are always like that,” I dismissed. “Especially private schools.”
He shrugged. “You’ll have to see it for yourself. Like I said, I can’t really explain it.” He absentmindedly looped his earbuds around his fingers. “Just try to keep to yourself. And stay the hell away from Aileen and her crew.”
“Oh?” My eyebrows raised in interest.
“Every hive needs a queen bee.” Sean shrugged.
“What about the Landing kids?” I asked. “Do they follow her, too?”
Sean snorted, breaking the spell of his nervous fidgeting.
“Hardly,” he replied. “I’m not even sure they register on the food chain around here.”
“That’s good,” I said. I mentally kicked myself when I realized I’d shared that sentiment out loud.
“You’re in the Landing?” Sean said in surprise. His cheeks colored, and the white of his earbud wires flashed against his dark uniform as they resumed their nervous dance.
“Mmmm.” I gave him a good-natured shrug. “Maybe it’s better to be there and off the radar than be in the middle of the hive.”
“Landing kids are their own problem. Like a weird secret society that polices themselves.” Sean’s forehead creased with worry. “I don’t know which is worse.”
“Well, on that cheery note,” I crumpled my own coffee cup and tossed it to join Sean’s in the bin, “I should probably get going.”
“Yeah, I should get back to practicing, too.” Sean hesitated in front of the door.
I walked past him to the line of trays, which had filled out somewhat in our brief time together. I found a basket of bagels and grabbed two still warm to the touch.
“Listen,” Sean called across the room. “I’m down in the practice rooms most of the time when I don’t have class. Don’t be a stranger, okay? Maybe let me know you’re around next time so I don’t crap my pants.”
“You spill my coffee one more time and you’ll be wishing you could see me coming,” I called back to him.
He smiled and saluted before backing out the door.
I tore off a huge chunk of warm bagel, letting my teeth keep time to the churning thoughts running through my head. The hairs on the back of my neck hadn’t calmed down any, which gave my skin an itchy feeling. The warring sensations were driving me crazy, so I decided the only logical option bordered on the insane.
Go back outside.
I checked my shoulder through the entry door into the food assembly, promptly bumping into someone attempting to come in. With my mouth full of bagel, I mumbled an apology as incoherent as my cloud of thoughts.
I choked when I recognized the face.
Sandy haired with a line of freckles across his face, the boy scowling at me was normally bursting into flames in my dreamscape. He stayed in the quadrant with the drowning young woman with a birthmark on her cheek and the angry man whose wrinkles cracked and shattered into a thousand pieces.
“Could you just move, please?” He snarled, trying to shove past my frozen body toward the door.
I choked on the bagel in my mouth, pounding at my chest as the coughing rattled a small piece loose from the wrong pipe. The boy finally shoved past me, and I was alone to greet a slowly growing trickle of students coming in for breakfast.
I shoved the rest of the bagel into my bag next to its brother for safe keeping.
This was a new record. A new night visitor sighting in under twenty-four hours? My hand was shaking as I tried to smooth back a strand of hair. I was dying to message Adele, but I knew the harsh truth before I even thought of what I would say.
I had to make it work. I had to deal with it until graduation.
I took a stream of steadying breaths, in through my nose, out slowly through my mouth. The students were more and more cognizant when I looked up. Their frowns and chatter in pairs made me realize I was causing a slight scene. It was too early to start the rumor mill going. Way, way too early.
So you saw a night visitor, I narrated to myself as I took self-assured strides to the door. No big deal. They don’t bite. They don’t even recognize you.
In through my nose. Out through my mouth.
You don’t know who they are either, a voice in my head argued. So, really, what’s there to worry about.
I’d made it under the archway in the atrium. Less than ten steps and I was outside in the bracing chill of the early morning sky. Plenty of room to think outside.
I looked up to meet a pair of heavily lined eyes, framed by a mass of chin-length curls.
My mind flashed to the field next to where Elliott had been prior to my intervention almost ten years ago. Those eyes. Those curls. The death loop played in my mind as I stared through this girl, who dodged around me, continuing on into the dining hall with her arm carelessly thrown around her friend’s shoulder. Their tinkling laugh echoed in the enlivened hall, and my stomach twisted.
Two. Two night visitors in under twenty-four hours. This time, minutes apart.
I could feel the cold sweat seeping into the collar of my shirt, and I tugged at it savagely. The door loomed in front of me, and I left before it could shut behind the next entering student. Someone called out after me as I bumped them in my haste. I didn’t care.
My eyes scanned the horizon, finding a good number of students filtering in from the athletic quad and dormitories on their way to breakfast. I trotted hastily across the courtyard, aiming for the academic buildings. Fewer students were in that direction, but my eyes were glued to the streams of blue and green funneling to the dining hall.
A shock of blonde hair. A wry smile. Amber brown eyes.
Each new sighting sent a lightning bolt through my frame. The fear was overwhelming me as I lost count of the number of night visitors in my field of vision. My hand tightened in a vise grip around my phone, and I hid behind the column Adair had used as a hiding spot the night before.
My ragged breathing echoed against the brick wall and the concrete of the pristine columns identical to the one sucking all the heat from my back. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the parade of death loop images to stop crowding my field of vision. One by one, they popped up, just as I’d seen them in real life, but this time superimposed against their death loop. Each one was dizzying in its familiarity
. I’d been watching some for years, and then they appeared in real life.
“Get it together, Noah,” I reminded myself. “You can’t have them catch you being crazy. Not today. Not ever.”
What does it mean? I screamed at myself. I had so many pieces of the puzzle, but it was like starting with no edge pieces. No boundary to work inward from, just so many differently shaped pieces of sky that I couldn’t seem to connect.
I felt a tear trickle down my cheek, and I wiped at it angrily. Resolved, I took several deep breaths, directing all the anxiety out with each exhale. I kicked off from the column, standing straight without any assistance. Once I found sure footing, I rubbed my face, checked that my unruly curls were still pinned back and contained, and brushed off my clothes. Slowly, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms seemed to lower, making me feel less like a porcupine and more like a rational human being.
I looked around, finding no witnesses to my first mini meltdown of the day. I unearthed the map in my bag to find out exactly where I should be going. A bark of a laugh escaped me, and I clapped my frozen hand over my lips before anything else could escape. The brick wall looming in front of me had been my destination after all.
I noted the side entrance but decided for orientation’s sake I should go the usual route. My feet found their way back to the cobblestones, and the buckles on my boots jingled merrily as I struck the ground with each step.
In no time, the front entry greeted me, and I trotted up the small staircase to the main door. Just as I neared the top, however, a flash of green caught my eye. I froze, teetering inside my boots to find balance from the halted forward momentum.
P.S. Beware the feline librarian. It may look cute, but just don’t look it in the eye.
You’ll thank me later.
Nine
I’d never lost a staring contest to a cat before, but as my eyelid twitched in protest, I realized this would be the first.