3 Conjuring (5 page)

I scanned the sidewalk behind me, but no one ha
d crawled out of the bushes to chase me. I figured I had imagined it until I saw a hint of movement out of the corner of my eye. When I glanced up, I blew out a relieved sigh when I realized it was just a student entering the front door of the dorms. I’d worked myself up for nothing.

As the figure had traveled to the lighted area in fr
ont of the main door my relief turned to wariness, though, when I recognized the individual entering the building.

It was Jessica.

Huh. She couldn’t have been following me. Could she?

I waited until I was sure the entryway was empty and then followed Jessica into the dorm. I glanced around the lobby, but it was vacant except for the student clerk behind the front desk. I flashed my identification to her as I moved toward the stairs and then stopped and swung back toward the front desk. “Did someone come in right before me?”

The girl looked surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

“Right before I came in,” I repeated. “There was another girl who came in. Did you see where she went?”

The clerk eyed me dubiously. “Are you high or something?”

“No. I saw a girl with dark hair come in here before me. Which way did she go?”

“No one came in before you,” the girl shook her h
ead emphatically, her shoulder-length red hair swinging. “I think you’re imagining things – or hallucinating.”

“I’m not … whatever.” This argument was clearl
y going to get me nowhere so I headed for the stairs. I climbed the three flights to my floor, making sure that Jessica wasn’t hiding around every corner as I climbed. I stalled outside my dorm room long enough to look up and down the hall – but no one was there.

Once inside the room, I was surprised to find Kelsey rum
maging through the crate full of food by our small refrigerator.

“Hey,” I greeted her warily. “I thought you were out with Matilda at the party.”

“She met some guy,” Kelsey muttered, wobbling slightly. “She went home with him.”

She was clearly drunk. This was the most she had ev
er said to me, though – and in the most amiable manner – so I decided to press my luck. “How did you get home?”

“I walked.”

“Alone?”

“It was either that or watch Matilda have sex with s
ome random guy. It seemed like the safer choice.” Kelsey dropped to her knees, shoving food aside as she searched for something specific. Given how thin she was – she worked out every day – I had a feeling it was something healthy, which wasn’t enough to entice me to help her.

“I see your point,” I said finally. “Does she do this a lot
? I mean, take off with random guys.”

“Every chance she gets,” Kelsey nodded wearily.

“She’s a little boy crazy, huh?” I arched an eyebrow speculatively.

“She’s a big slut,” Kelsey agreed.

“I didn’t say she was a slut,” I hedged.

“I know,” Kelsey replied. “That was me. I’m not that drunk. I remember what I said.

Aha! I found it.” She pulled a can out of the crate triumphantly. The motion was enough to cause her to topple onto her rear and land on the cold linoleum with a thud. “Ow! That hurt.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kelsey grumbled, popping the ring on the top of the can and peeling it off excitedly. I watched with a mixture of curiosity and revulsion as Kelsey dug into the can with her fingers and pulled out a beet and popped it into her mouth. That’s not exactly what I thought of when I yearned for a snack food.

“Is that a beet?”

“No,” Kelsey shook her head. “It’s a pickled beet.”

“There’s a difference?”

“Pickle juice.”

How stupid of me. “You like pickled beets?”

“Don’t you?” Kelsey asked.

I shrugged. “I guess I’ve never really had one. I pick th
e regular ones off of my Greek salad, though.”

“Try one,” Kelsey motioned for me to sit on the floor
with her. I was fairly sure I didn’t want to eat beets, but I was also fairly certain this might be my only chance to make any headway with Kelsey. I opted for roommate solidarity.

Sitting next to her, I glanced in the can dubiously. “What do they taste like?”

“Pickled beets,” Kelsey replied simply.

“You can’t pick another food to compare them to?”

“No.”

“Fine,” I sighed, reaching into the can and grabbing on
e of the cold slices. What the hell, right? I popped it into my mouth and started to chew. I was surprised when I didn’t immediately want to hurl. “These are pretty good,” I said finally.

“I told you.”

“Yes, you did.”

We munched on the beets in silence for a few momen
ts, Kelsey staring at the bare wall across from us and me watching her curiously. She really was strikingly pretty.

She was all high cheekbones, long lashes, brigh
t green eyes and long brownish-blonde hair. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed before. Of course, her usual scowl was absent, which might be why she looked so different.

“Can I ask you something?” I finally broke the silence.

“Sure.”

“Why are you so … .”

“Bitchy?” Kelsey supplied helpfully.

“I wouldn’t say bitchy,” I answered carefully. “I guess I would say cold.”

“I don’t know,” Kelsey replied honestly. “I guess it just takes me a little while to warm up to people.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be bitchy,” I reminded her.

“I know. It’s just that … I wasn’t sure what to think of you guys, you especially.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re kind of famous around campus,” Kelsey explained.

I froze uncomfortably when Kelsey fixed her odd green eyes
on me. “Famous?” I laughed hollowly. “How so?”

Kelsey wouldn’t be the first person to know m
ore about me than I knew about myself. I honestly hoped this wouldn’t be like that, though. I was just starting to like her.

“You’re the girl who bagged Aric Winters,” Kelsey giggled.

Oh, that. “Bagged? That’s a weird term.”

“He’s like the hottest guy on campus. Everyone is after him.”

“I guess,” I mused.

“You also were there when that Zach guy went cra
zy,” Kelsey said. “Everyone on campus said you were seriously badass.”

“Aric was badass,” I said. “I ran like a girl.”

“You are a girl,” Kelsey reminded me. “I would have run, too.”

“I know.”

“Then there was that whole dead roommate thing first semester last year,” Kelsey continued. “Some of the girls from your floor thought that you did it.”

“What?” I was flabbergasted.

“Well, it was just so weird – the way she died in that alley,” Kelsey said. At least she didn’t know the real story – that was a relief. “People said you were questioned by the police.”

“Only because we were with her at the bar before she disappeared,” I said hurriedly.

“I figured,” Kelsey mused, digging into the can of beets again. “My dad is a cop in

Detroit. I told people you weren’t a suspect, bu
t you know how girls are. When they’re threatened by someone, they make up horrible things about them.”

“Why would they be threatened by me?” I queried.

“Because,” Kelsey replied simply. “You’re different. When people are different, that makes other people – boring people – look at the different person and wish they could be like them. When they realize that they can’t be like them, they start to covet what that person has.”

“People covet my life?” That couldn’t be right. My life was a mess. “Why?”

“Because things just seem to happen that launch you into the spotlight,” Kelsey rambled on. “Your roommate dies and people see you getting attention for it. You get stalked by a killer and saved by the hottest guy on campus and people wish that would have been them. Then, when you come back from summer vacation and that guy is all over you, well, then people just get outright jealous.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” I said. “My life is not something to be jealous of.”

“You think that because you see all the flaws,” Kelsey replied sagely. “People don’t see the flaws when they look at someone. Don’t get me wrong, they’re willing to make up flaws when they dislike someone, but they never see the real flaws. They never see the things that haunt someone. They ignore those.”

Huh. “You’re pretty deep,” I said. “I wasn’t expecti
ng that. You’re wrong, though; people aren’t jealous of me. They’re afraid of me.”

“Why would they be afraid of you?” Kelsey scoffed.

“Because I’m different,” I answered quietly. “You said that yourself. People fear things they don’t see in themselves.”

“You want to be different,” Kelsey was insistent. “Trus
t me. Five years from now, the faceless masses will be stuck in cubicles and following set life plans. They’ll be married and have 2.5 kids and they’ll be living in the suburbs. You’ll be more than that.”

“You seem pretty sure of that,” I laughed.

“I see greatness,” Kelsey shrugged. “I recognize it when I see it.”

“Oh, yeah?” I couldn’t help but like this Kelsey. Maybe I
should keep her drunk all the time. That was an interesting thought – although I would probably go broke with the effort. “How do you recognize it?”

“I see it in the mirror every day,” Kelsey smirked.

I couldn’t help joining in with her laughter when she dissolved into giggles. “I bet you do.”

Kelsey suddenly sobered. “Just be careful,” she warned.

“What do you mean?”

“When people see greatness, they try to squash it.”

“Good to know.” Apparently Kelsey was a philosophical drunk. At least she wasn’t a weepy drunk.

“Matilda will try to squash it,” Kelsey muttered, her voice barely a whisper.

“What?”

“Matilda. Be careful around her, too,” Kelsey con
tinued, her voice low. “I knew something was up when she insisted we live with you. I didn’t realize, though … I didn’t realize.”

“You didn’t realize what?” I pressed.

It must have occurred to Kelsey that she’d said too much, because she suddenly lurched to her feet and took a shaky step away from me.

“You didn’t realize what?”

“Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.” Kelsey rushed to the bathroom, dropping to her knees in front of the toilet.

Here’s a tip: Pickled beets look even more gross whe
n they come back up. Just keep that in mind.

I don’t generally consider Mondays fun, but when
you’re starting a new semester and you finally get a chance to get a gander at your new classes, there’s a certain element of excitement that can’t be denied. And, when you’re in college, you can virtually ensure that those classes don’t start before noon.

For their part, Kelsey and Laura had both purposely scheduled classes
for early in the morning so they could have their afternoons free. I thought that was a terrible idea and I said just that the previous evening when we’d all been sitting around the common room watching television. Matilda had agreed with me. So, by the time I was dressed and ready to leave for classes the next day, the room was already empty. I had no idea where Matilda was, but I was hoping I would be able to avoid her. Ever since Kelsey dropped her little bomb, I had been leery of my new roommate. Unfortunately, the opportunity to question Kelsey further on that subject hadn’t arisen. I would have to find a time to get her alone.

I was locking the dorm room behind me when I
saw Paris round the corner and head in my direction. I was glad to see her. Even though she lived about five doors away, I hadn’t gotten a chance to spend any quality time with her since Friday’s apartment party. I really missed her – especially since I was suddenly worried that Matilda was going to try to kill me in my sleep.

“Are you walking to campus?” Paris asked hopefully.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yep.”

“Good, we can walk together.”

“Yeah, it will give us a chance to talk,” Paris agreed.

Uh-oh. I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. “What are we talking about? It isn’t anything evil, is it?”

“That depends,” Paris teased. “Do you consider Brittany evil?”

“Always.”

“Then, yes, we have to talk about something evil.”

“Crap. Can’t we just talk about vampires and werewolves instead? I prefer that kind of evil.”

“I think we all do,” Paris agreed.

We were both silent until we hit the sidewalks on the ground level and turned toward the heart of campus. Paris seemed suspiciously tight-lipped once we were in the bright light of day.

“So,” I began.

“It’s the first day of September and it still feels like summer,” Paris interjected quickly. “That’s great, huh? Maybe we’ll have a really nice fall.”

“Yeah, nice try,” I said. “What’s the doom and gloo
m you’re about to drop on this sunny day?”

“It’s not that bad,” Paris sighed. “It’s just something
I thought I should give you a heads up about.”

“Go on. I’m dying to hear it.”

“Brittany is going after Will.”

“What else is new? It’s not exactly like that’s a news flash.”

“Yeah, but this time it’s not just idle chatter to annoy you,” Paris said. “She means business.”

“Like?”

“Like she’s trying to get him to ask her out.”

“He won’t do it,” I said, and I was actually fifty percen
t sure I was right. “We talked the other night, and I don’t think she’s really on his radar that way.”

“Yeah, Brittany told me about that,” Paris said carefu
lly. “Her take on things was a little different.”

“What was her take?” I couldn’t wait to hear this.

“She said you were throwing yourself at Will around the bonfire and Aric found you and freaked out and you two broke up.”

“We did not break up.” At least I didn’t think we did.
I hadn’t heard from him since the party, though, so I couldn’t be entirely sure.

“You did have a fight, though?” Paris raised her eyebrows questioningly.

“Yeah, we definitely had a fight,” I agreed. “He’s got this bossy thing going that really turns me off.”

“Of course it does,” Paris laughed. “You’re super
bossy and he’s super bossy and when two super bossy people get together the bossiness runneth over.”

“I am not bossy.”

“You’re totally bossy,” Paris waved off my argument. “The good news for you is that when that bossiness runneth over it often does so in the bedroom. How are things in the bedroom, by the way?”

“Like I’m going to tell you that,” I said. “Especially now.”

“Later? When you’ve calmed down and you realize I’m right?”

“You’re starting to bug me.”

“That’s something a bossy person would say.”

“No, a bossy person would gag you.”

“Promises, promises,” Paris smirked. “Back to the Brittany problem, though. She’s actually considering calling him and asking him out.”

“Good for her. She’ll just feel like an idiot when he says no.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Paris paused for dramatic emphasis. “I took a little something extra away from Brittany’s bonfire story.”

“Oh, yeah? And what is that?”

“That Will still has feelings for you.”

I felt myself blush – and I was annoyed by my reaction. “Why would you say that?”

“Because Brittany said Aric accused him of that.”

“He did.”

“And did he deny it?”

“He did.”

“Was he telling the truth when he denied it?”

That was an interesting question. One I didn’t want t
o answer. “So, what classes do you have today?”

“That’s what I thought,” Paris said knowingly.

“I don’t see how this relates to Brittany asking Will out,” I grumbled.

“Because, if Will does still have feelings for you the bes
t way to get to you is to date someone close to you,” Paris explained.

“Like Brittany,” I mused.

“Like Brittany,” Paris agreed.

“Well,” I blew out a frustrated sigh. “I guess I’ll just ha
ve to cross that bridge when I come to it.” I had better not come to it.

“You’re not going to deal with it by killing her, are y
ou?” Paris looked legitimately worried.

“Of course not.”

“Good.”

“I didn’t promise not to beat the crap out of her, though.”

MY MONDAY
schedule started with oceanography. Frankly, I was interested in fulfilling my science class requirement with anything that didn’t necessitate cutting up a frog or looking at anything really gross under a microscope. I figured this was the way to go. I thought it would be all sharks and dolphins. What could be bad about that?

The class was held in a large lecture hall and was tau
ght by an instructor who had a lot in common with the teacher in the Charlie Brown cartoons. He droned on and on and on. It looked like everything in the class would be straight out of the book, though, so that was a bonus. No actual thinking required.

After that, I had my lone journalism class of the s
emester: Newspaper Design. The classroom was in the basement of the English building, and I was relieved when I entered and found that Matilda was nowhere in sight. Since we were both majoring in journalism, the odds weren’t exactly in my favor. I was glad to see that luck had finally decided to make a cameo appearance in the story of my life.

That feeling lasted for exactly sixty seconds, long en
ough for me to find a computer station and get settled. When I sat down and faced the front of the classroom, though, my relief washed away with the sight of the instructor.

Professor Sam Blake, head of the monster-
hunting academy on campus, was standing in front of the class talking to a student. He hadn’t seen me yet, which was a small miracle. I considered sneaking out and trying to switch classes, but that seemed like a cowardly thing to do. I took the opportunity to watch Professor Blake when he wasn’t aware of my presence. He was a young professor, early thirties and well-built. He had floppy blond hair and an easy grin that was accentuated with a dimple that caused most of the female student body to go all atwitter. I had seen his darker side, though. And, as nice as he seemed while chatting up the student, I knew there was a real darkness in his heart. Unfortunately, I suddenly realized that the student he was chatting up was someone that I recognized: Jessica. So much for luck.

“You’re so funny,” Jessica giggled, causing me
to cringe. She ran her hand up Professor Blake’s arm in a flirty nature. “I’m looking forward to class this semester. I’ve heard great things about you as a teacher.”

“Well, that’s flattering,” Professor Blake loo
ked uncomfortable. “You should probably go, though. I have another class to teach.”

I met his eyes evenly when his gaze fell on me.
Jessica followed his stare and frowned when she saw that I was his newfound point of interest. She desperately tried to draw his attention back to her and her ample bosom. “Are you available for private tutoring sessions?”

“What?” Professor Blake turned back to her and fr
owned. “Um, no. Unfortunately, my time outside of class is already spoken for. I’m sure there are some teaching assistants that would be willing to help you, though.”

“They’re not as good as you,” Jessica pouted.

“I’m sure they’ll be sufficient.” Professor Blake smiled tightly. He seemed uncomfortable with Jessica’s pointed attention.

Jessica didn’t look happy with his answer. “But … .”

“I really have to start my other class now,” Professor Blake said forcefully. “I’ll see you again on Wednesday.”

“You can count on it,” Jessica said, casting a hateful glare in my direction.

Once she left, Professor Blake introduced himself to the class and launched into the semester overview. Since it was the first day, our only responsibility was booting up the computers and getting to know the different programs on them. I set about my tasks, occasionally glancing up to see whether Professor Blake’s attention was focused in my direction. Ever since he had tried to recruit me for the monster-hunting academy – and I had balked – he had embarked on a series of different ways to entice me back. None of those had worked. The last time I saw him had been the spring semester of last year. He was the one who tipped me off to exactly what Zach was. I hadn’t seen him since – and I had no idea whether he knew how that whole situation had remedied itself.

Luckily for me – I think – Professor Blake seemed focused on everyone else in class.

He stopped by everyone’s workstations to make sure they were navigating the programs correctly, but he didn’t even pause by my station. It was as though I had ceased to exist. I had no idea whether that was a good thing.

Fifty minutes later, class was over. I realized I was daw
dling as I was packing up, but when I glanced up at Professor Blake’s desk to see whether he was still there, I found the entire room was suddenly vacant.

Well, that was a relief. He had apparently lost interest in me. That’s a good thing.

Right?

Right?