Asylum (15 page)

“You don’t need to help me, Dan. I can do this on my own.” Abby snatched up her sketchbook.

“I want to help,” he said. “I want to help Jordan, and I want to help you, too, and I …”

I still want answers
.

“Then
help
!” She caught her foot on the bench as she turned to leave and tripped. Grabbing a hold of the table before she could tumble to the ground, she dropped her sketchbook. Dan leapt forward to try to catch it.

Too late. The sketchbook hit the floor and fanned open, revealing page after page of dark, twisted drawings. Some loose sheets scattered. Reds, blacks, touches of blue and gray—with a central figure huddled at the center of every piece. The white shift she wore and the vacant look in her eyes gave it away.

It was the girl in the photograph. The girl Abby had drawn in her room. But there was something more going on in these illustrations. Suddenly Dan knew what Abby was thinking.

“Lucy,”
Dan murmured. “You think the girl in the picture is Lucy Valdez.…”

“I’ve just been inspired, that’s all.” Abby grabbed the sketchbook and gathered up the loose pictures.

“I think maybe you should be looking for inspiration somewhere else.”
Shit
. That hadn’t come out the way he’d wanted it to.

“What would you know about it? You’re not an artist, Dan. You’re— I don’t know what you are. You hold things in. You never share your own opinions. Do you really believe me about my aunt? I don’t even know. You get some weird email and a threatening note, and you say you want answers, but you won’t even go down to the basement with me. What
are
you, Dan? Whose side are you on?” She turned and stomped away, not giving him a chance to respond. He wanted to answer, to say
something
, but she was already with her friends at the art table and the last thing he wanted was to have an audience while he tried to explain his worth.

Anyway, what would he say? She was right—he
did
keep things to himself. He didn’t like to take risks; he was cautious. He was closed in. There was so much he hadn’t told her and Jordan. But she’d seen something in him before. Was that gone?

What was he
? she’d asked. He was many things right now. And he felt like he was being pulled in a million conflicting directions. He definitely wanted to be with Abby, and that felt like the strongest, clearest direction. But fear of what awaited them in the old wing flooded his body. When they went down to that place, something bad happened to them—and to their friendship.

Dan cleaned up the table, his face hot with embarrassment. He took his tray and walked out of the dining hall without looking at Abby and her new entourage.

Outside, the crisp air felt like a blessing. He paused and glanced over his shoulder, through the windows and into the dining hall. Abby had her back to him, but he could tell by the shake of her shoulders she was laughing.

Dan walked slowly back to Brookline, his thoughts heavy, his heart even heavier.

When he got to his room, he slipped into his bathrobe and trundled down the hall to the bathroom. One of the showers in the cubicle behind him dripped, the droplets pinging the drain with an uneven rhythm. As he washed up, he remembered what the warden had written about “twisted roots.” Where did insanity begin? With paranoia and insecurity like Jordan’s, or with a strong-minded obsession like Abby’s? Should he be worried that their behavior marked the first signs of something more serious?

They are walking the line between genius and insanity. You know the line well.

When he lowered his hands from his face, Dan saw he had scrubbed his skin almost raw. He dried off with his towel, and then paused in front of the mirror. He always chose this same mirror. It had deep black scratches in the upper right-hand corner that looked vaguely like a word, and each night he’d decide it spelled something different. Tonight, it looked like
HELP
.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

CHAPTER

N
o
 18 

“M
aybe you’d feel better if you went for a run. I have so much more energy now that I’ve started exercising. Have I mentioned that, Dan?”

Dan glanced up from his reading. “Only five times,” he muttered. “Today.”

“The point stands,” Felix replied from the floor. He was in the middle of his billionth set of push-ups.

For the past few days, Dan had basically kept to his room, watching TV shows online and occasionally reading materials for classes. He hadn’t heard from or spoken to Abby or Jordan since that night they’d all blown up at one another. At dinner, Abby sat with her new art friends, while Jordan had apparently stopped coming to dinner entirely. So Dan had started sitting with Felix, listening to how much his roommate was enjoying all of his classes and how he wished the program were longer than five weeks. At least
one
of them felt that way.

“Seventy-five,” Felix counted. He paused, out of breath, and switched to a kneeling position. His palms were red from the floor. “You’re welcome to join me at the gym this evening. It might really cheer you up, take your mind off of things.”

Dan had to admire his determination. Protein shakes and daily trips to the gym were quickly turning Felix’s once spindly physique into
Fight Club
material. He was still wiry, but Dan wouldn’t want to pick a fight with him in a dark alley.

“Thanks,” Dan said, flipping a page. “Not sure the gym is my scene, though.”

“You never know unless you try.”

Felix stood up and went to the closet. He pulled on a T-shirt and a Windbreaker, then packed a sports bag with a roll of clean white socks and a water bottle. “At least get out of the room, Dan,” Felix told him when he got to the door. “Take a walk. Get some fresh air. You can watch
Battlestar Galactica
at home. Don’t let this temporary setback ruin your whole summer.”

“Uh. Okay?” Dan watched Felix slip out and close the door. “Thanks, Oprah.”

But of course he was right. Dan got off his bed, shut his laptop, and changed into clean clothes. Just as he reached for his cell phone, it started buzzing so violently it nearly fell off his desk. Dan dove for it and was relieved to see
MOM
on the display.

“Hello?”

“Hi sweetie.” His mother’s voice was almost completely drowned out by the sound of TV in the background.

“Speakerphone?” he asked with a chuckle. “Really?”

“Your dad wants to say hello, too. No big deal. So how is it going? Do you still love college?”

Her enthusiasm was always infectious, and Dan found himself smiling despite his bad mood. “It’s not really college, you know that.”

“I know, I know, but still …”

“Is that Dan? Hi, Danny boy!”

“Hi, Dad.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, pacing from one end of his bed to the other. “So yeah, I’m doing fine, guys. Everyone is supernice, and the classes are great.”

“How is Abby?” his mother asked. Of course that’d be the first place her mind went.

“She’s fine, really an amazing artist. And it turns out Jordan’s like, a math prodigy.”

“Oh, good!” More than happy, Sandy sounded relieved. “Well, just wanted to call and let you know we sent a package with some goodies. I think it should have gotten there already, but I didn’t know what the mail situation was like where you are. There’s enough in there to share with Abby and Jordan, too, if they like Little Debbies and candy as much as you do.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“I hope you’re not studying all the time,” his father said. “You enjoy yourself this summer, all right?”

“I will,” Dan said, meaning it. He glanced around for his coat. “But listen, I should get going and look for that package, it’s pretty dark out already.”

“Okay, Danny, and let me know when you get it. We miss you! We miss you every day.”

“Thanks, guys. I miss you, too.”

Hanging up, Dan pulled on his jacket and left the dorm for the first time all day. The evening was pleasantly cool. He walked through the quad, where Yi and his orchestra friends were out playing music on the grass. Dan took a moment to stop and listen. For the first time in days, he felt his mood lifting.

He made good on his promise to his parents and set off toward the academic side. It would be nice to have something from home, and plus Dan was hungry enough to eat a whole box of Little Debbies himself.

Out on the lawn in front of Wilfurd Commons, a resident advisor led a group of students through yoga poses in the grass. Dan skirted around them and walked to the side entrance of the building. A convenience store–student union next to the cafeteria housed post office boxes for each student.

Dan found his box in the middle cluster, number 3808. Crouching, he peered into the tiny glass window and was surprised that it was actually quite full. He used a little key he’d been given on move-in day and opened the door to pull everything out. Sure enough, there was a green piece of paper telling him he could pick up his package at the mail desk. There were also some flyers from the school, mostly information for students interested in applying to the college proper. There was a sketch Abby had done on the back of an assignment. He remembered seeing her doodle it during class. It showed the three of them in full suits of armor, standing on top of a fallen mound of books with “SCHOLASTIC VICTORY, HUZZAH!” written boldly across the top. Dan tucked the drawing away with a smile. He didn’t know when she had put it in his box, but maybe it was a sign that she was ready to be friends again. He decided he would call her when he got back to the dorm.

Finally, there was an envelope that simply had “3808” written on the front in thick black ink.

Oh no, not again
.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

CHAPTER

N
o
 19 

D
an almost threw the envelope away. Who knew what threat it contained? But in the end he had to know. With a feeling of dread, he opened the flap.

Insanity is relative. It depends on who has who locked in what cage.

The spidery calligraphic handwriting was the same as the Hydra note. This time it wasn’t fear but anger that shot through Dan. Someone was trying to freak him out, and it was working.

Dan glanced around. Nobody was there, but he couldn’t escape the prickly feeling that
someone
was watching. He threw the school papers in the trash and put the note in his jacket pocket. He retrieved his package from the store clerk with a shaky hand, then practically sprinted out of the building.

Once he was back in his room, he grabbed the note out of his pocket and sat down at his desk. He Googled the sentences. It sounded like a quote, not something off-the-cuff. His suspicions proved right. The top few results showed that the line was Ray Bradbury’s—from some radio play he’d written.

So now what? He’d assumed finding the source of the quote would be helpful, but it wasn’t. Whoever had put it in his mailbox had already left one ominous note
on his desk
. They’d been in his room.…

Dan spun around in his seat. Of course no one was there.

Think. Think! You’re missing something, something right in front of your stupid face.