Just listening to her describe it was relaxing. Then she reached over and gently pressed her thumbs to his temples. “Every root moving through the earth, shifting the dirt, getting stronger.…” He stretched, enjoying the feeling that he could fall asleep.
“Ha. See? I told you it works.”
“Not bad, Branches.”
“We should probably get back inside,” she said, getting slowly to her feet and stretching. “And don’t call me Branches.”
“Acorn?”
“Not. Funny.”
“Whatever you say, Branches.” He covered a yawn.
“I’m serious.” She glared. “You call me Branches and I’ll call you Buddha.”
“All right, fine. Truce.” Dan followed her inside and closed the door behind them. It automatically locked. They walked to Abby’s floor.
“Well, night,” Dan said, rocking on his heels.
“Night. And remember …” Abby closed her eyes and struck a pose. “Be the tree.”
“I’ll try,” Dan said, watching her back as she headed off to her room.
And alone in his room, Dan did try. But when he closed his eyes, the tree became a vine and the vine became a shackle, and then it was the same nightmare all over again.
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CHAPTER
No 8
The next morning, Dan hardly said two words to his friends. They wouldn’t have class together until later in the afternoon, and his restless night meant his alarm had gone to snooze half a dozen times. Breakfast consisted of wolfing down Cheerios and orange juice too fast, and watching Abby put cold spoons on her eyelids. She insisted it would help her wake up and get rid of her sleepless puffiness.
No time to myth bust that. Instead, Dan ran, course list in hand, to his first class, thinking that History of Psychiatry would get him off to a good start. When he got there he saw Jordan’s roommate, Yi, and was glad for the friendly face in a room full of strangers. Ignoring the familiar voice that told him it’d be easier to sit alone, Dan went over to Yi and introduced himself.
“How’s it going?” he said to Yi as he sat down.
“Eh.” Yi shrugged. “Jordan won’t stop texting people when we’re supposed to be sleeping. I could hear his little clicky-clacky fingers going until like four in the morning.”
“He does love that phone.”
“Otherwise? I’m glad to have the chance to do something outside of playing the damn cello. I love music and all, but I’m open to another calling. Maybe I’ll find it in this class. If nothing else, I’ll learn something new, right? That, and we might get to hear some cool shit about our loony bin of a dorm.”
Professor Reyes arrived promptly and began handing out the syllabi. She was dressed in all black again, this time with a quartz necklace. Her appearance reminded Dan slightly of the fortune tellers from late-night infomercials.
He liked Professor Reyes right away, particularly after a student raised his hand and she responded with a gentle, “No, we will not be discussing Brookline Sanatorium, but thank you for asking. If you’d like to do your own study on the subject for extra credit, that will be fine.”
The hand went down immediately.
The two hours flew by, and the few times Dan’s mind did wander it was to consider what Abby and Jordan might be up to in their drawing class. He sort of hoped Abby was keeping their late-night chat to herself. It’s not that he cared if Jordan knew about his nightmares or Abby’s parental problems, he simply liked the idea of that conversation remaining something they alone shared.
No harsh, loud bell rang to signal the end of class. Instead, the college’s chapel chimes sounded once at a quarter to the hour, and that was the professor’s signal to wrap things up. It was a refreshing change. Dan packed his folders away. Buying the textbooks for the classes was not mandatory, and most of the material came in the form of printed-off packets, slide shows, and documentaries. Right on Yi’s heels, Dan was quick out the door—then he remembered that this wasn’t high school, and he wasn’t going to get in trouble if he was late for lunch.
The college had provided everyone with a map, but consulting it made him feel like such a tourist. Outside, the weather had shifted from the slight dewiness of morning to the full heat of a summer afternoon.
Professor Reyes was already out in the courtyard taking a smoke break. He remembered what she had said about a possible extra-credit project and approached.
Professor Reyes smiled at him, finishing her cigarette and flicking it into a nearby metal bucket for stubs.
“Darren, right?” she asked.
“Dan,” he corrected, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Daniel Crawford?”
She stared at him for a long moment, then said, “Ah. Got it. I won’t forget.”
“I was wondering about that extra-credit project?”
“Oh, Dan, I was kidding. You know there are no grades here, right?” The professor laughed softly. “So are you looking for a recommendation, or just sucking up?”
“Well, I—” Dan didn’t quite know what to say, embarrassed that she was already thinking badly of him. “This is just sort of my main interest.… Psychiatry and history, I mean. So the extra credit sounded cool. I was thinking I might try to do some interviews around town, get a local perspective.”
“Good luck with that.” Professor Reyes adjusted the briefcase slung over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry?”
“The townsfolk are, shall we say, superstitious? And that’s putting it mildly.… They’ve been petitioning to get Brookline leveled for years, but they can’t. One, because it’s a historical site and deserves to stay put. Two, because there’s no reason to tear it down. The foundation is sketchy, sure, but the college is paying to have it redone soon enough.” She rummaged in her briefcase until she found her cigarette pack. She lit one, gesturing with it. “So you might come up against some, well, resistance. They’ll talk about Brookline, sure—they’ll talk your ear off about it—but only about how much they want it gone.”
“That’s too bad,” Dan said, meaning it. “I thought it might make a good paper.”
“It would, and you should try for it.” Professor Reyes leaned closer, giving him a conspiratorial grin. “Actually, I’ve gotten permission to do a senior seminar in the old closed-off parts of the dorm. We’ll be archiving some of the stuff in there and finally getting it off the school’s hands at the same time. Any chance you’re coming here next year?”
“I wish,” Dan said. “I’m just starting my senior year of high school.” Truthfully, Dan hadn’t really considered coming to college here. But if he liked all his classes this summer, why not? “Hey, maybe if my interviews went well, you could use the paper for your seminar.”
“Sure,” she said. “We’ll see.”
Dan left, giving her a tiny wave as he went. He wasn’t sure if the idea of digging deeper into Brookline’s history made him excited or afraid, but having it as a kind of class assignment—even an unofficial, extra-fake-credit assignment—at least gave it some validity. Now he could tell Jordan and Abby about what he’d learned without sounding all psycho.
And speaking of Jordan and Abby, they were probably waiting for him at lunch now. He remembered the moment last night when he thought Abby was about to kiss him. Would she remember it the same way? Was she still thinking about him, too?
It took Dan four days to get up the courage to ask Abby out on a date.
To be fair, it was an amazing four days in which he, Abby, and Jordan basically became inseparable. They ate together, sat next to one another in class, and hung out at night. Of course, this made Dan even more anxious about asking Abby out. His mind went round and round in circles. Should he ask her out? What if she said no? Could they still be friends? How would Jordan feel about it? What would it do to the three of them? What if she said y
es? What if … ?
He was so broody that even Felix noticed something was going on.
“You seem distracted, Daniel,” Felix said one day after lunch when Dan had come into the room, flopped down on his bed, and sighed loudly. “Want to talk it over?”
Dan wondered about the wisdom of asking Felix for dating advice—although Felix did seem to be relaxing into the program, too. He still studied alone in their room all the time, spoke like a science teacher, and required ludicrously small amounts of sleep. But his manga magazines had disappeared and he seemed to enjoy doing his own thing.
“Well,” Dan said. “I’m thinking of asking Abby out. What do you think my chances are?”
“Ah, yes. I can see why you’re so nervous.…”
“You … can?” Dan waited, although he wasn’t sure he wanted Felix to elaborate.
“You are facially symmetrical, but suffer from slightly protruding ears. You’re not exactly tall, and your lack of muscular definition, well … Abby is, on the other hand—”
“Yeah,” Dan said, cutting him off. “She’s cute as hell.”
Felix paused and gave a quick shrug. “I’d say she is, in the popular vernacular, out of your league.”
“I thought so, thanks,” Dan muttered. He really shouldn’t feel put out, considering the source of this judgment, but still … it stung.
“But only by a very narrow margin.” Felix beamed from his desk chair. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yes,” he said. “You’ve been a big help. Thank you.” Dan gathered up his afternoon notebooks and headed out the door.
That phrase, out of your league, plagued Dan all the way across campus. Felix was right in a way. Dan had never met anyone like Abby before, someone who lit up his world a little whenever she happened into it.
The first of the chapel bells started ringing, signaling one forty-five and the start of his next class. Late. How had that happened? It had been a little after one when he’d left the dorm. Dan sprinted as best he could the rest of the way, arriving outside the social sciences building huffing and sweating. On the last chime, he tumbled into the corridor. Jordan and Abby were waiting by the classroom door.
“There you are!” Abby called. “We thought you weren’t coming.”
“Just running late. Roommate stuff.”
“Sure, we all know you were going for a dramatic entrance,” Jordan teased, nudging him lightly. Dan filed in after his friends and shuffled to a seat under the stern gaze of their professor, a tall, middle-aged man with a short goatee and salt-and-pepper hair.
“Well, if it isn’t the Hydra,” Professor Douglas said, pulling his glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make it a habit, you three.”
Hydra. Clever, Dan thought. He smiled.
“Sorry!” Abby said, whipping out her binder at lightning speed. “It won’t happen again.”
Professor Douglas nodded and turned to the whiteboard.
After class, they walked together back toward the quad. A tall, lantern-jawed kid ran up to them on the path and planted himself in Abby’s way.
“Hey, Abby! Jordan.” The guy smiled, showing a megawatt, dentist-approved grin. “Y’all want to grab a coffee or something?”
Of course he had a charming Southern accent. Why wouldn’t he?
“I’m Dan.” Dan stuck out his hand, forcing the guy to let go of Abby’s arm.
“Ash,” the boy said, gripping Dan’s hand like a vise. “Pleased to meet you. So … ?” Ash cocked his head in the direction of Wilfurd.
“Sure, I’m down,” Abby chirped. “Guys?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jordan said.
Dan just shrugged and tried to smile in a way that said, okay, but it wouldn’t be my first choice. Quietly, hands in his pockets, he dropped back a few paces. Jordan joined him, giving him the sort of deliberate, laser-eyed look that made Dan feel extremely uncomfortable. He wasn’t going to say anything. If Abby wanted to hang out with Ash, that was none of his business.
But Jordan didn’t let up.
“He goes to Abby’s high school,” he whispered conspiratorially as he twirled a pencil in his fingers. “She introduced us in drawing class. I guess they run the art club together at their school.”
“Oh,” Dan replied. “I guess he seems nice enough.…”
“But?”
“But nothing.” Dan kicked a stick out of the way, sending it spinning into the grass. “He’s nice. But maybe that’s all there is to him. Anyway, who cares about nice? Most people are nice.” He thought about his high school. “Nice” kids were a dime a dozen there, and none of them really caught his interest. Not that he much cared. He was at the top of his class, and in a year, he’d be headed to college far away from them all.
Jordan raised an eyebrow. “You don’t think you’re being a little harsh on the kid? You’ve known him all of ten seconds, Dan. He’s just one of those guys, you know? He gets along with everyone. People like having him around.”
Dan kicked at the ground. “I don’t get that. How do you do that? Get along with everyone, I mean.”
“Try being a little less jealous, for one,” Jordan said.
He meant it lightly, but Dan took it to heart. Was he being that obvious? Maybe he should just get over himself and accept that of course Jordan and Abby would have other friends. But for his part, Dan didn’t feel like he needed anyone else.
Dan picked at a muffin while Abby and Jordan chatted with Ash. Nobody seemed to mind that he didn’t say a word. He tried not to look all mopey, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded.
Afterward, Ash left to join a Frisbee game and Jordan said something about meeting up with people for a group project. Dan and Abby were quite suddenly alone.
Abby looked at Dan with a smile on her face. “Cheer up,” she said. “You look so serious.”
“I—” he started, but then something came over him and he knew he had to say this now or he never would. “Do you want to go out somewhere tonight? Just the two of us, I mean?”
“Yes.” She said, smiling, leaving Dan to inwardly celebrate the vast difference between “yes” and “sure.”
Tell her it’s a date, that you mean it like a date.
“It doesn’t have to be a date or anything,” he added sheepishly.
It’s a date, it’s a date, you’re asking her on a date.…
“Oh,” Abby replied, glancing down. “No, right, of course …”
“Or it could be a date?”
“Okay …” She laughed. “What did you have in mind?”
“Hm?”
“What did you want to do? Get dinner or … ?”
“Oh! Dinner, yeah. I heard, um, I heard that place down in town is nice. Yi was talking about it. Brewster’s? They do sandwiches and stuff?” This wasn’t so hard.
“Brewster’s it is,” she said brightly. “How’s seven?”
“Seven is perfect.”
“Great then! Seven o’clock sharp. I’ll see you downstairs at seven.” Abby shook her head and laughed. “Jeez, could I say seven a few more times?”
“Probably.”
After that, Abby said something vague about wanting to go to the sports center, and Dan said he needed to get in some study time, so they parted ways in the quad, smiling and waving like idiots. He watched her walk down the path until she was lost among the crowd of students hanging around outside.
Then he walked slowly back to the dorm. His sneakers crunched on pinecones as he ambled on and off the paths, and on one of the nearby lawns he saw a group gathered around a grill—it looked like a barbecue that a couple of hall monitors were getting started early for dinner. He could smell the smoke as it drifted up into the air and disappeared in the light breeze. He could hear the popping of the fire. He was feeling just fine.
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CHAPTE
R
No 9
The fact that tonight was a maybe date created more dilemmas for Dan. Like, did he shave? Would that communicate a level of formality that would say too much? Should he keep it informal, so it didn’t seem like he was making assumptions? He really hoped it was a date, though. He thought about Abby’s eyes: big, consuming, like there was a whole world in there he’d only just glimpsed.
“Idiot,” he said. He’d been so lost in his thoughts, he was now probably running late. He threw on a light blue shirt that felt casual but not sloppy. He tucked and untucked it, and even attempted a half-tucked slouchy thing that only catalog models ever seemed to do right. He decided jeans instead of slacks, and definitely no tie—way too formal.
He looked at his clock.
Time seemed to function strangely here. What had felt like hours of wardrobe deliberation turned out to be no more than twenty minutes. He actually had time to kill. Dan sat down at his desk and cracked open his laptop to check his email. There was a long one from his parents that basically just said they hoped he was having a great time with his new friends. Some junk mail. A video from Jordan of a cat running full tilt into a tiny shoe box, and a link to a new band he thought Dan should check out. For a second, Dan wondered what Jordan would think about this dinner with Abby. Had Abby told him? Dan didn’t look forward to Jordan’s inevitable jokes once he found out.
Then, an unread message in his Sent folder caught Dan’s attention. That was … odd. How could you even have an unread message in your Sent folder? By virtue of composing and sending the message, didn’t that mean he had himself read it?
Dan clicked on the folder, catching a subject line that read “RE: Your inquiry regarding patient 361”—but then his in-box minimized and an error message popped up midscreen. The cursor changed to the spinny wheel of sadness.
“What? Hey!” Dan smacked the side of the laptop. “Yes!” he shouted. “Yes, I would like to restart the browser, you piece of—and thank you ever so much for choosing this exact second to crash!”