CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Hannah climbs out of bed and heads for the bathroom with fresh clothes. She stops when she sees me on the couch.

“You’re back.”

I hold my hands up. “Unscathed.”

“So you got lucky.”

“Not luck, Hannah. It was amazing. And I barely got to see anything.”

She sits down on her chair. Her clothes are in a neat stack on her lap, and her hands are folded on top of them. “But at least you got it out of your system, right?”

I scoot forward on the couch, right up to the edge. “I’m going to ask Bobby to take me again tonight.”

“Dez, you can’t.” She takes in the sweeping view that our picture window affords. “I know the city is beautiful, but you have to let it go. You need to focus on getting through the steps to get out of here. You go back there and you’re going to end up just like Bobby.”

“Bobby is amazing. He’s brilliant, he’s funny, and he makes being here bearable.”

“Well, I’m sorry your time with Charlie and me is so unbearable, but you’re leaving out one thing about Bobby: he’s stuck here. Probably forever.”

“You have no idea what you’re missing. If you come with us tonight, you’ll see what I mean.”

“You need to stop and listen to yourself. This is not the path you want to go down, believe me.”

“Believe you? What have you ever done? How can you know that your way is better if you’ve never tried anything else?”

“I can’t talk to you if you refuse to listen to reason.” Hannah heads for the bathroom without another word.

“We’re going to mix things up a bit today,” Franklin announces at the start of Partnership Path to Progress. “Just as in life, adversarial relationships are unavoidable in the close quarters of our dormitory afterlife. Avoidance simply isn’t an option, so we’re going to face the issue head-on.” He grabs two wooden chairs and places them a few feet apart, facing each other.

“The new kids get all the breaks, right?” he asks the group. “Not today. Herc, Dez, front and center.”

“Not happening,” Herc says, and, for once, I agree with him.

“Not asking.” Franklin points to the chair. “Take a seat.”

Neither Herc nor I move.

“I can have RPS here in less than five minutes.”

His threat is enough to get me to my feet. I make my way to the designated chair and sit, the displeased center of attention.

“Thank you, Dez,” Franklin says. “Herc?” He sounds almost cheerful. “Last chance. And you know quite well what comes next.”

The look of defiance seems permanently etched on Herc’s face, his scowl a constant reminder of his perpetual hateful mood. I have to give him credit for being a master of timing, though. He waits until the last possible second, when Franklin is about to call for backup, and skulks over to the vacant chair. “Go to hell.”

Franklin smiles. “I’m afraid that decision has already been made, and the answer is a resounding ‘no.’”

Herc drops into the seat.

“Since you were the last to join us, you get to be the first to go.” Franklin glances down at a notebook. “Let’s begin on a positive note. I want you to say something nice about Dez. Why don’t you share one of her good qualities with us?”

“This is a load of crap.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion. I asked you to share a good quality Dez has.”

“Fine.” Herc looks at me with pure hate. “Right now her mouth is shut, so that’s good.”

In a sudden and swift move, I kick his chair, surprising myself almost as much as I surprise him. My foot hits the frame dead center and sends him sprawling. He lands on his back with a crash, and I jump to my feet.

Herc gets up and lunges at me. “You’re going to regret that.”

Franklin holds him back with his free hand. “That’s enough! Both of you, knock it off.” He turns to Charlie, who wears the same stunned look as everyone else. “Walk Herc back to your suite. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He takes a step closer to me, positioning himself right in my face. “Go cool off. You may return to the floor when you can control yourself.”

Since I’m already in trouble, I decide I may as well see what Crosby wants. I make my way down to the lobby and out into Jhana Park, heading for the admin building.

What was Crosby’s note about? What is he going to say when he hears what just happened? How much worse can they make it for me?

The doors to the SGA placement office slide open. Gritting my teeth, I approach Crosby’s desk.

His eyes brighten. “Hey, kiddo. It’s about time you showed up.”

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

“What’s with you?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I stare at the floor.

“You’re a terrible liar.” He pushes back from his computer and taps his ear. “Lillie?” he says into the air. “Can you keep an eye on things for me? Thanks.” He comes around his desk to me.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Crosby,” I whine.

“The path to self-destruction is paved with ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’ Come on.” He leads me out of the office and back into the hallway. We walk down the corridor in silence. He takes us through a succession of quick turns—right, left, right, right—as the hallways narrow.

“You sure you know where you’re going?” I ask. “This place makes me feel like a rat in a maze.”

“You want my advice? Get used to it.”

“If there’s cheese at the end, you can have it. I’m from the Dairy State. I’ve had my fill.”

Crosby stops before a metal door and punches a code into a keypad on the wall.

“What’s up with all the keypads, anyway? There a big risk of us kids breaking into offices and lounges and gaining unauthorized access to comfy furniture or something?”

He frowns, giving me that disapproving look of his—irritation, with a hint of amusement. “You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”

“Yet I can’t get a decent answer out of anyone.”

He opens the door to a small room furnished with a single couch, a couple of chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows boasting breathtaking views of the city.

“That’s really nice,” I grumble, flopping onto a couch. “Don’t you dare go to the city, but we’re going to taunt you with it every chance we get.”

Crosby pulls up a chair and parks himself right in front of me. “Okay, spill it.”

I cross my arms. “You first. What’s with the note?”

“Fair enough,” he concedes. “All I have to say is: be careful.”

“The time for careful was Saturday morning when my phone rang.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Actually, I have no idea.”

Crosby leans forward in his chair. “Fine, play coy. I have it on good authority that you and Bobby were spending some time together yesterday.”

“Oh, your ‘little bird’ told you? Did they mention it was during free time, which, last I checked, is ours to do what we want with so long as we aren’t breaking the rules?”

“Just be careful,” Crosby warns me. “Bobby is a nice kid, but he’s like quicksand. Don’t get stuck. He’s also extremely persuasive, because how can you argue with someone that smart? Just don’t let him put any ideas in your head.”

“Look, Crosby, I’m not some 1930s housewife who needs a man to guide her. I can think for myself.”

Anger flares in his eyes. “And you’re also not some world-worn veteran of life who knows what lurks in the shadows around here, so get over yourself. I’m trying to help you.”

He lets me stew in my righteous anger until I finally speak up. “So that’s it? Be careful? Stay on the straight and narrow? Duly noted.”

His expression softens. “Look, I know how hard this is, but I believe in you. You have every ability to breeze through this and get on with your afterlife. I just want to help you steer clear of obstacles that will slow you down.”

“Like Bobby?”

“Exactly. Don’t lose your focus, and let us help you.”

I slump down in the couch. “Fine.”

“Now tell me what else is going on.”

Exhausted from fighting Atman and its inhabitants, I give in and tell him about my latest scuffle with Herc.

His parting advice, “Try not to get in any more fights today,” seems woefully inadequate. He sends me on my way back to the dorms with the promise that we’ll talk again soon.

Passing back through the park, I come across Bobby, who is journaling in his usual spot on the bench by the stream.

He smiles when he sees me. “We meet again.”

“Mind if I join you?” I ask.

“Not in the least.”

“I was kind of hoping I’d find you here. I can’t get our visit last night out of my mind.”

He nods. “An exceedingly common side effect of exposure to the city.”

“The thing is, I want to go back. Tonight.”

I brace for the rejection, for the reasoning that to return to the city so soon is foolish and risky. Instead, Bobby asks, “Do you plan to partake of the ritualistic and wholly unnecessary caloric intake at a socially appointed hour?”

“Uh, you mean dinner? Hadn’t really thought about it. Are you?”

“No. However, the end of the accepted parameters of said dinner hour, as it falls within the confines of our appointed free time and affords us the ability to slip away undetected, would be the ideal time for our journey to begin.”

I stand to leave. “I guess I’ll see you at the tower cafeteria at seven, then.”

“Tonight will be far more interesting. I guarantee it.”