Anyway, what would he say? She was right—he did keep things to himself. He didn’t like to take risks; he was cautious. He was closed in. There was so much he hadn’t told her and Jordan. But she’d seen something in him before. Was that gone?
What was he? she’d asked. He was many things right now. And he felt like he was being pulled in a million conflicting directions. He definitely wanted to be with Abby, and that felt like the strongest, clearest direction. But fear of what awaited them in the old wing flooded his body. When they went down to that place, something bad happened to them—and to their friendship.
Dan cleaned up the table, his face hot with embarrassment. He took his tray and walked out of the dining hall without looking at Abby and her new entourage.
Outside, the crisp air felt like a blessing. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, through the windows and into the dining hall. Abby had her back to him, but he could tell by the shake of her shoulders she was laughing.
Dan walked slowly back to Brookline, his thoughts heavy, his heart even heavier.
When he got to his room, he slipped into his bathrobe and trundled down the hall to the bathroom. One of the showers in the cubicle behind him dripped, the droplets pinging the drain with an uneven rhythm. As he washed up, he remembered what the warden had written about “twisted roots.” Where did insanity begin? With paranoia and insecurity like Jordan’s, or with a strong-minded obsession like Abby’s? Should he be worried that their behavior marked the first signs of something more serious?
They are walking the line between genius and insanity. You know the line well.
When he lowered his hands from his face, Dan saw he had scrubbed his skin almost raw. He dried off with his towel, and then paused in front of the mirror. He always chose this same mirror. It had deep black scratches in the upper right-hand corner that looked vaguely like a word, and each night he’d decide it spelled something different. Tonight, it looked like HELP.
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CHAPTER
No 18
“Maybe you’d feel better if you went for a run. I have so much more energy now that I’ve started exercising. Have I mentioned that, Dan?”
Dan glanced up from his reading. “Only five times,” he muttered. “Today.”
“The point stands,” Felix replied from the floor. He was in the middle of his billionth set of push-ups.
For the past few days, Dan had basically kept to his room, watching TV shows online and occasionally reading materials for classes. He hadn’t heard from or spoken to Abby or Jordan since that night they’d all blown up at one another. At dinner, Abby sat with her new art friends, while Jordan had apparently stopped coming to dinner entirely. So Dan had started sitting with Felix, listening to how much his roommate was enjoying all of his classes and how he wished the program were longer than five weeks. At least one of them felt that way.
“Seventy-five,” Felix counted. He paused, out of breath, and switched to a kneeling position. His palms were red from the floor. “You’re welcome to join me at the gym this evening. It might really cheer you up, take your mind off of things.”
Dan had to admire his determination. Protein shakes and daily trips to the gym were quickly turning Felix’s once spindly physique into Fight Club material. He was still wiry, but Dan wouldn’t want to pick a fight with him in a dark alley.
“Thanks,” Dan said, flipping a page. “Not sure the gym is my scene, though.”
“You never know unless you try.”
Felix stood up and went to the closet. He pulled on a T-shirt and a Windbreaker, then packed a sports bag with a roll of clean white socks and a water bottle. “At least get out of the room, Dan,” Felix told him when he got to the door. “Take a walk. Get some fresh air. You can watch Battlestar Galactica at home. Don’t let this temporary setback ruin your whole summer.”
“Uh. Okay?” Dan watched Felix slip out and close the door. “Thanks, Oprah.”
But of course he was right. Dan got off his bed, shut his laptop, and changed into clean clothes. Just as he reached for his cell phone, it started buzzing so violently it nearly fell off his desk. Dan dove for it and was relieved to see MOM on the display.
“Hello?”
“Hi sweetie.” His mother’s voice was almost completely drowned out by the sound of TV in the background.
“Speakerphone?” he asked with a chuckle. “Really?”
“Your dad wants to say hello, too. No big deal. So how is it going? Do you still love college?”
Her enthusiasm was always infectious, and Dan found himself smiling despite his bad mood. “It’s not really college, you know that.”
“I know, I know, but still …”
“Is that Dan? Hi, Danny boy!”
“Hi, Dad.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing from one end of his bed to the other. “So yeah, I’m doing fine, guys. Everyone is supernice, and the classes are great.”
“How is Abby?” his mother asked. Of course that’d be the first place her mind went.
“She’s fine, really an amazing artist. And it turns out Jordan’s like, a math prodigy.”
“Oh, good!” More than happy, Sandy sounded relieved. “Well, just wanted to call and let you know we sent a package with some goodies. I think it should have gotten there already, but I didn’t know what the mail situation was like where you are. There’s enough in there to share with Abby and Jordan, too, if they like Little Debbies and candy as much as you do.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I hope you’re not studying all the time,” his father said. “You enjoy yourself this summer, all right?”
“I will,” Dan said, meaning it. He glanced around for his coat. “But listen, I should get going and look for that package, it’s pretty dark out already.”
“Okay, Danny, and let me know when you get it. We miss you! We miss you every day.”
“Thanks, guys. I miss you, too.”
Hanging up, Dan pulled on his jacket and left the dorm for the first time all day. The evening was pleasantly cool. He walked through the quad, where Yi and his orchestra friends were out playing music on the grass. Dan took a moment to stop and listen. For the first time in days, he felt his mood lifting.
He made good on his promise to his parents and set off toward the academic side. It would be nice to have something from home, and plus Dan was hungry enough to eat a whole box of Little Debbies himself.
Out on the lawn in front of Wilfurd Commons, a resident advisor led a group of students through yoga poses in the grass. Dan skirted around them and walked to the side entrance of the building. A convenience store–student union next to the cafeteria housed post office boxes for each student.
Dan found his box in the middle cluster, number 3808. Crouching, he peered into the tiny glass window and was surprised that it was actually quite full. He used a little key he’d been given on move-in day and opened the door to pull everything out. Sure enough, there was a green piece of paper telling him he could pick up his package at the mail desk. There were also some flyers from the school, mostly information for students interested in applying to the college proper. There was a sketch Abby had done on the back of an assignment. He remembered seeing her doodle it during class. It showed the three of them in full suits of armor, standing on top of a fallen mound of books with “SCHOLASTIC VICTORY, HUZZAH!” written boldly across the top. Dan tucked the drawing away with a smile. He didn’t know when she had put it in his box, but maybe it was a sign that she was ready to be friends again. He decided he would call her when he got back to the dorm.
Finally, there was an envelope that simply had “3808” written on the front in thick black ink.
Oh no, not again.
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CHAPTER
No 19
Dan almost threw the envelope away. Who knew what threat it contained? But in the end he had to know. With a feeling of dread, he opened the flap.
Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.
The spidery calligraphic handwriting was the same as the Hydra note. This time it wasn’t fear but anger that shot through Dan. Someone was trying to freak him out, and it was working.
Dan glanced around. Nobody was there, but he couldn’t escape the prickly feeling that someone was watching. He threw the school papers in the trash and put the note in his jacket pocket. He retrieved his package from the store clerk with a shaky hand, then practically sprinted out of the building.
Once he was back in his room, he grabbed the note out of his pocket and sat down at his desk. He Googled the sentences. It sounded like a quote, not something off-the-cuff. His suspicions proved right. The top few results showed that the line was Ray Bradbury’s—from some radio play he’d written.
So now what? He’d assumed finding the source of the quote would be helpful, but it wasn’t. Whoever had put it in his mailbox had already left one ominous note on his desk. They’d been in his room.…
Dan spun around in his seat. Of course no one was there.
Think. Think! You’re missing something, something right in front of your stupid face.
Rummaging through his desk drawer, Dan unearthed the first note. He held the two of them side by side. He looked at the spidery handwriting, the paper, the ink—everything matched up perfectly. Other than that, he couldn’t tell much. He couldn’t even say for sure whether the notes had been written by a man or woman.
So, to sum up everything he knew— a nameless, genderless stalker with a fondness for Ray Bradbury was out to terrorize him.
He thought about calling Abby or Jordan but decided not to. The notes were for him, not Abby or Jordan. Someone was trying to get at him.
Dan ate microwave popcorn from his care package for dinner and then huddled under his blanket. He couldn’t stop shivering. His mind was going around in little circles.
He pulled out his phone and thumbed through his contacts, finally hovering over Dr. Oberst’s phone number. If anyone could hear him out without judging him, it would be her. And she had told him to call her any time this summer if things got bad.
But what would he even be calling to tell her? If he told her about how he’d imagined real rooms before he’d seen them, she’d probably ask for a therapy session—but the notes? How could those be his fault?
Dan had never doubted himself as much as he did in that second. What if he was the “twisted root” at the heart of everything that was going wrong?
He threw his covers off, jumped out of bed, and took the two notes from his desk. He ripped them in half, and then in half again. He refused to let someone else string him along like this. He refused to let someone else keep him caged in his room, in his mind.
He was going to go with his gut on this one. And his gut was telling him he would find answers in the basement.
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CHAPTER
No 20
Dan knew it was not his best idea, sneaking into the basement by himself. To start with, the door would be locked. One of the hall monitors might be standing guard. But he wasn’t going to overthink this. Thinking hadn’t gotten him anywhere.
Out in the hall, the lights were too bright. He longed for the cover of total darkness. At least nobody was around. They were probably all at dinner or out doing their own thing like Felix.
Still, Dan didn’t want to get careless. He sneaked over to where the vending machines were and was about to turn the corner to the warden’s office when he saw a dark silhouette appear at the end of the hall. Footsteps. Voices. For a terrifying instant, thoughts of the Sculptor or another of Brookline’s killers returning to stalk the halls made his body tighten up all over. He pressed himself against the wall, hoping he would blend into the shadows.
“They should just trade him and do everyone a favor,” said a male voice. Dan let out his breath, not even aware he’d been holding it. It wasn’t a ghost; it was Joe.
“Whatever, man.”
Dan didn’t recognize the second voice. Probably another hall monitor. Were they patrolling the halls, making sure no one went down to the basement? Dan stood there for what felt like forever, until finally, he saw Joe and his buddy go out the front door. He waited a minute or two more just to be safe, and then he turned the corner to the old wing. Luck was on his side—the heavy door was not only unguarded, it was unlocked. Probably Joe hadn’t snapped the padlock shut all the way the other night, Dan convinced himself. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the door was ready and waiting for him.
Dan slipped inside and the stale air wrapped itself around him like a welcome. He had forgotten how dark it was down here. He clicked on his flashlight, but without anyone to break the silence, the darkness was exponentially scarier.
Dan plunged through the reception room and into the outer office, the one with the scratched-off letters on the glass. He retraced their steps from last time, pausing to check that the photos were still stacked neatly on the desk. From its frame on the wall, the photo of the struggling patient seemed to be taunting him. The Sculptor, patient 361.
Dan crouched behind the file cabinet and climbed through the secret passage. Without hesitating, he pointed his flashlight at the stairwell and hurried down, knowing that if he waited he might lose his courage and turn back. The lower hall was still a mess. He cautiously navigated the chairs and gurneys. The last thing he needed was to break his neck tripping over a piece of furniture. It’d be a while before anyone found his body.
Dan moved past the empty cells. It felt like something might jump out of every one.
He moved quickly now, anxious to get to the pristine inner office. Apart from his thumping heartbeat and quick breaths, the hallway was eerily silent.
Steps away from the rotunda room and the office beyond, his foot collided with something small but heavy. It rolled noisily away into the darkness, and Dan focused his light on the floor, following the little trail whatever it was had left through the dust, across the floor, and into one of the open cells.
In the middle of the room, Dan reached up and risked pulling the old string attached to the ceiling light. A single, naked bulb clicked on, buzzing and flickering for a moment before bathing the cell in a faint, yellow glow. It was barely enough to see by, but it was better than his flashlight.
Dan looked around. This was one of the many cells he and Abby hadn’t explored. There was a table and a bed, but nothing else. He squinted, turning in a complete circle. What had he kicked and where had it gone?
Then a soft, high-pitched chime started up from under the bed. Dan stumbled toward the sound, as whatever it was crackled faintly and then began to sing.
No, not sing—play music … Dan crouched, the hairs on his forearms standing up as the broken, off-key tune of a music box filled the room. He didn’t recognize the melody. It sounded so old he wasn’t sure anyone alive would. Dan fished under the bed until his fingers ran over the ridged metal surface of the box. He nudged it out carefully, then picked it up to examine. There were two broken springs sticking out on either side. Standing on top was a little porcelain figurine, a ballerina. She was in a dancer’s pose, her arms curved gracefully above her head. Half of her face was missing, but it was hard to make out details beyond that. The paint had long since chipped away.
Dan listened to the painful crawl of the song as the notes wound down, the mechanical tune dying a lingering death. Finally, it stopped, and the room fell silent once more.
He tipped the box over and found an inscription etched into the bottom.
To Lucy: On your birthday wit
h love.
Dan stared at the words for a long time, hoping maybe if he just waited they’d change or disappear. This couldn’t be the same Lucy, could it? Abby’s Lucy? If Abby’s story had been true, it didn’t seem like Lucy’s parents would have been the type to send a birthday present. Maybe it was a gift from the warden himself. Either way, what was it doing down here? Did it mean that Lucy had … died … or just left it behind?
Dan kept worrying the question like a sore tooth. One thing he knew for sure: he would not be sharing this discovery with Abby. She would go out of her mind worrying about what it meant.
He set the box back down the floor and turned to leave the cell behind him. But suddenly, the disjointed song started up again, getting louder and clearer and faster as it played. Dan thought about smashing the box to stop it, but he chose to flee instead. That box had meant something to someone, once.
Dan continued down the hall, coming to the rotunda off which he and Abby had found the inner office. This time he took full stock of the space, shining his flashlight all along the wall and finding a small doorway across from the office. He took hold of the knob and turned. The door wasn’t locked, but it didn’t budge either. It had swollen shut in the dampness and gloom. Putting all his weight behind it, Dan turned and pushed as hard as he could. The door shrieked a protest, but open it did, and Dan only just caught himself from a nasty fall. Lowering before him was another set of stairs.
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