Just months before I start medical school in Boston, I decide to let loose for one night. A dark club, a loud band, strong drinks--and the attention of a dangerous-looking man who says he's in the city for only a week.
I know exactly what he is: a...
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"Shit. Shit. Shit."
I fling the covers off my bed. It's nine-forty five in the morning, which means I've overslept. My brother will be here in fifteen minutes, and something tells me he won't be cool if I'm late.
While grabbing my pink plastic shower caddy filled with makeup, Aussie shampoo, Noxzema cold cream, Sea Breeze toner and my toothbrush and toothpaste, I notice that Kerri's not in the room. Oh, right, it's Sunday, which means she's working a shift as a lab tech at the blood bank.
She works at odd hours, testing the blood for AIDS and other viruses. Since she's at the lab with only one or two other people, she's able to feed without anyone noticing. Apparently she ducks into a supply closet to drink while transporting the bags of blood from one room to another.
I'd hoped to talk to her about John last night, but she'd been fast asleep when I got back to the room. And then I'd crashed, exhausted from, well, everything.
My head is still jammed with thoughts while I yank my robe off a hanger and head to the shared bathrooms. Next year when I'm in medical school, I'll have a room to myself, with a bathroom. This sharing crap definitely sucks.
Fortunately, there's no one in any of the shower stalls, and I'm in and out in five minutes. Back in my room, I scrape back my hair into a wet ponytail, then peek outside. It looks cold, gray, and unforgiving. There's no way I should go out with wet hair, but the digital clock is ticking toward ten.
"Screw it," I mutter, twisting my damp hair into a bun and slipping on a black hat. It goes with the rest of my outfit: Docs, leggings, a miniskirt, a turtleneck, a sweater, and then finally, my wool coat. All black, of course.
I don't bother with makeup but do wind a scarlet-colored scarf around my neck before I stomp out of the room. I'm not a morning person, something Mom says I need to work on before medical school.
Ugh, I'd hoped to get up early so I could call Mom and ask her about John. Last night seems like a dream, from my frenzied, hot time with Matteo to the random appearance of my brother. I'm not great with change, which is why I've lived in the same dorm for four years. The events of the past twelve hours have left me feeling deeply unsettled, which is why my stomach feels like I'm digesting ground glass as I step into the lobby.
Which is empty.
I peek outside. Sure enough, it's freezing, one of those bright sunny days that draws the breath out of your lungs because it's so ice-cold. There's no one at the front of the building except that girl on the fifth floor who dresses in pajamas all the time. She's smoking a cigarette and nods at me.
"Hey, did you see a tall guy, brown hair?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "I've smoked two cigarettes and haven't seen anyone."
"Thanks," I mumble, and head back in.
I make my way over to the front desk and spot a familiar face. It's Jasinda, a friendly sophomore who lives on three. She sets down her thick textbook and greets me with a kind smile, and I do the same.
