floor.
I found myself eager for her to leave so
that I could go upstairs to where most of the seniors are housed,
and find Liam before the soccer meeting. I’d been surprisingly
obsessed by this desire, and the very second Mom was out of my
room, I ran for the stairs.
Seniors all have good-sized single rooms;
the reward for three long years of sharing space with roommates. I
walk down the long hall on the fourth floor and read the nametags
on each door, none of which have Liam Norwell printed neatly
across its width. I find this odd, because when we were at the
beach last summer, he’d told me that he was going to be in the
senior singles in RetroHouse this year.
I’m left with no choice but to ask someone.
I linger in the hallway until a hipster-looking guy saunters out of
his room. “Hey…excuse me, I have a question.”
He looks at me strangely, probably wondering
what on earth this lowly sophomore is doing up on the senior floor.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know Liam Norwell? He’s supposed to
be living up here and I don’t see a room with his nametag on
it.”
“Norwell bailed on living in RetroHouse at
the last minute. He got an apartment off-campus, from what I
heard.”
I’m surprised. No, I’m fucking shocked. And
hurt… but I’m not sure of the reason. “Do you know where his
apartment is?”
“Do I look like a frigging address
book?” He walks straight past me to the stairs and I pick up a
distinct “get a life” vibe.
“Uh… thanks.” For nothing. I’m
stunned, feeling like I’ve been slapped hard in the face. Not only
does Liam refuse to live in the same dormitory as me, he didn’t
even tell me about his change in plans.
I know… I know… I never returned his calls.
But still… he could’ve texted me.
12
I can’t find him.
He doesn’t answer or return my phone calls,
but I realize I can’t complain about this since it’s exactly what I
did to him at the end of the summer. I already went to the
Registrar’s Office and asked for his new address, but the secretary
told me she couldn’t disclose that information. I really never knew
who his roommate was, or any of his friends—but I do know that he
had gone to see Ginny’s roommate, Mariah Craft, perform on the
night of the theater shootings. It doesn’t take much of a detective
to figure out where she’s living. The sophomores are housed in
RetroHouse and Hamilton Hall, and since I know she isn’t living in
RetroHouse, I stop by Hamilton Hall on my way home after the first
day of classes.
It’s like the bad kind of déjà vu. I walk up
and down the halls of the girl’s floors in Hamilton Hall, reading
the names posted on the doors of the young women who live there,
and I don’t see Mariah’s name. So, I’m forced to camp out in the
lobby until a girl I recognize as a sophomore enters the dorm.
“Hi… you’re Emily, right?” I’ve never before
put myself out there like this. But I really want to find Liam.
“Yeah… weren’t you… uh, like Ginny
Blankenship’s boyfriend?” She seems to realize how stupid a thing
to ask it is halfway through saying it. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry I
asked that!”
“It’s okay. I’m okay, I guess.” It strikes
me that Ginny would likely be living in this very hallway if she
hadn’t been killed last spring. For a moment, I think I’m going to
lose it and barf in the water fountain on the wall. It hurts to
think about Ginny and it also brings back the memories of trying to
survive last summer. But I pull myself together because I have a
purpose here. “Do you know where Mariah Craft is living this year?
I haven’t talked to her since… last spring and I wondered if you
knew which room is hers. I want to say hi.”
“Oh, you don’t know?” The girl is pretty
with her blue eyes and light brown hair, but I have no interest
whatsoever.
“Know what?”
“Mariah transferred out of Batcheldor
College during the summer. She couldn’t deal with what happened
I found myself eager for her to leave so
that I could go upstairs to where most of the seniors are housed,
and find Liam before the soccer meeting. I’d been surprisingly
obsessed by this desire, and the very second Mom was out of my
room, I ran for the stairs.
Seniors all have good-sized single rooms;
the reward for three long years of sharing space with roommates. I
walk down the long hall on the fourth floor and read the nametags
on each door, none of which have Liam Norwell printed neatly
across its width. I find this odd, because when we were at the
beach last summer, he’d told me that he was going to be in the
senior singles in RetroHouse this year.
I’m left with no choice but to ask someone.
I linger in the hallway until a hipster-looking guy saunters out of
his room. “Hey…excuse me, I have a question.”
He looks at me strangely, probably wondering
what on earth this lowly sophomore is doing up on the senior floor.
“Yeah?”
“Do you know Liam Norwell? He’s supposed to
be living up here and I don’t see a room with his nametag on
it.”
“Norwell bailed on living in RetroHouse at
the last minute. He got an apartment off-campus, from what I
heard.”
I’m surprised. No, I’m fucking shocked. And
hurt… but I’m not sure of the reason. “Do you know where his
apartment is?”
“Do I look like a frigging address
book?” He walks straight past me to the stairs and I pick up a
distinct “get a life” vibe.
“Uh… thanks.” For nothing. I’m
stunned, feeling like I’ve been slapped hard in the face. Not only
does Liam refuse to live in the same dormitory as me, he didn’t
even tell me about his change in plans.
I know… I know… I never returned his calls.
But still… he could’ve texted me.
12
I can’t find him.
He doesn’t answer or return my phone calls,
but I realize I can’t complain about this since it’s exactly what I
did to him at the end of the summer. I already went to the
Registrar’s Office and asked for his new address, but the secretary
told me she couldn’t disclose that information. I really never knew
who his roommate was, or any of his friends—but I do know that he
had gone to see Ginny’s roommate, Mariah Craft, perform on the
night of the theater shootings. It doesn’t take much of a detective
to figure out where she’s living. The sophomores are housed in
RetroHouse and Hamilton Hall, and since I know she isn’t living in
RetroHouse, I stop by Hamilton Hall on my way home after the first
day of classes.
It’s like the bad kind of déjà vu. I walk up
and down the halls of the girl’s floors in Hamilton Hall, reading
the names posted on the doors of the young women who live there,
and I don’t see Mariah’s name. So, I’m forced to camp out in the
lobby until a girl I recognize as a sophomore enters the dorm.
“Hi… you’re Emily, right?” I’ve never before
put myself out there like this. But I really want to find Liam.
“Yeah… weren’t you… uh, like Ginny
Blankenship’s boyfriend?” She seems to realize how stupid a thing
to ask it is halfway through saying it. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry I
asked that!”
“It’s okay. I’m okay, I guess.” It strikes
me that Ginny would likely be living in this very hallway if she
hadn’t been killed last spring. For a moment, I think I’m going to
lose it and barf in the water fountain on the wall. It hurts to
think about Ginny and it also brings back the memories of trying to
survive last summer. But I pull myself together because I have a
purpose here. “Do you know where Mariah Craft is living this year?
I haven’t talked to her since… last spring and I wondered if you
knew which room is hers. I want to say hi.”
“Oh, you don’t know?” The girl is pretty
with her blue eyes and light brown hair, but I have no interest
whatsoever.
“Know what?”
“Mariah transferred out of Batcheldor
College during the summer. She couldn’t deal with what happened
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