Breathless (4 page)

Leesa heard a soft thud, like two bodies crashing together, followed by a very brief thrashing in the undergrowth. She wondered if two animals were fighting. If so, why did neither make a sound? She’d heard a coyote take a cat once back in San Diego, and the screeching had been horrific. Whatever this was, it had come from the same direction she’d last heard the rustling. She listened closely, ready to turn and run, but heard nothing else. Gradually, she felt her muscles relax and her breathing slow. The birds were singing again, and she chided herself for her fears. She was going to have to be a lot braver than this if she was going to find her brother.

Gathering her courage, she left the trail and moved warily into the bushes, gently pushing aside the leafy branches that grew more thick and tangled the farther she got from the path. Every few steps, she stopped to listen, but heard nothing amiss. Less than fifty feet from the trail, she found a place where the undergrowth was crushed and broken. An oblong pile of gray and white ash filled the center of the damaged area. Someone had sure picked a strange spot to build a fire. Were these ashes somehow linked to the sounds that had frightened her? Edging closer, she knelt beside the pile and carefully stretched her hand toward it. Her fingers were within inches of the ashes when she gasped and yanked her hand back—the ashes were still warm! Her heartbeat spiked again as she shot to her feet and looked quickly around, listening intently and straining to see through the underbrush. She detected no sign of danger, but could not shake her fear. Something was going on here she didn’t understand. Being brave was one thing, but being foolish was quite another. She gave a final quick glance at the ashes, then scrambled out of the trees and hurried back down the path. All thoughts of completing her hike were gone. Right now, she wanted only to get out of these woods.

5.  RAIN, RAIN DON’T GO AWAY

T
he day broke gray and dull. The sun was only a rumor, hidden behind a thick, glowering blanket of low clouds.

“The weather certainly has turned,” Aunt Janet said, tugging her jacket closed as she and Leesa watched Uncle Roger load Leesa’s luggage into the back of his white Ford Expedition.

“I love it,” Leesa replied, gazing up at the leaden sky. The air even smelled different, sharper in some way, imbued with a faint chemical odor. “It’s been nothing but sun the last six months back home. The closest thing we’ve had to rain was some dimwit in a truck knocking over a fire hydrant down the street. I’ve been looking forward to some real New England weather.” She wondered if she was beginning to take after her mom, with this craving for clouds and foul weather. Maybe she had some of her mom’s “vampire” blood in her after all.

“Let’s see if you’re still singing that same tune come January or February,” Uncle Roger said with a laugh as he swung the back of the Ford shut. The cargo door slammed closed with a solid thunk.

Leesa laughed with him. “Ha! I’ll probably be begging for some sun by then.”

They climbed into the car, Uncle Roger and Aunt Janet up front, Leesa in back. Max was already on the backseat, waiting. As soon as Leesa settled in, he rested his muzzle on her thigh. Smiling, Leesa stroked the top of his head and was rewarded with Max’s happy panting. She hadn’t mentioned yesterday’s incident in the woods to her aunt and uncle, and now, sitting here in the car with the two of them and Max, the whole thing seemed a bit foolish. She was glad she hadn’t said anything.

Her uncle backed out of the long driveway, and a moment later they were cruising east on Highway 66, toward Middletown and Weston College. The radio was tuned to a classic rock station, and she heard a couple of songs by the Beatles and the Who her dad used to listen to. She still missed him, but not nearly as much as she used to. A misty drizzle began to float down from the sodden sky, dotting the windows with tiny pinprick droplets and pulling her mind away from her father. Nothing the locals would bother to call rain, she guessed, not even wet enough for the intermittent setting of the windshield wipers, but she smiled nonetheless. It was still more rain than she’d seen in months, probably enough to lead the evening news if it happened in San Diego. With any luck, the sagging sky would send them even more. But she would take what she could get. A line from a Sheryl Crow song popped into her head—something about “It’s not having what you want, it’s wanting what you’ve got.” Satisfaction is a mindset, Leesa had learned at an early age. Real rain or not, there was water on the windows and she was darn well going to enjoy it.

But alas, the sky’s promise proved false, and within a few minutes the drizzle ended. At least the sky remained threatening. Leesa lowered her window half way to smell the damp air. Max seemed to think it was a fine idea, because he leaned across her lap and stuck his nose out the opening.

“How are you feeling?” Aunt Janet asked. “Excited? Nervous?”

“A little of both,” Leesa admitted. “It feels like that yummy omelet you made for breakfast is doing flip-flops in my stomach.”

“Should have had pie,” Uncle Roger joked. “Pie is your friend, I always say.”

“Ha! You may be right, Uncle Roger.” Leesa thought back to the scrumptious peach pie he’d brought home last night. It had tasted so good she’d had a second helping and almost asked for a third.

“It’s normal to be a bit nervous,” Aunt Janet said. “But you’re going to do great. I know it.”

“I hope so, Aunt Janet.”

“You will. Look how well you did in high school. College is just like high school, except the kids are older.”

“Ugh! I hope it’s not like high school. Some of my classes last year were sooo boring. I’m looking forward to something a little more interesting.” Especially that one class, Leesa thought, but refrained from saying anything out loud.

As they drew nearer to Middletown, the homes along the road inched closer to the highway and closer to one another, and more small businesses dotted the roadside. Nothing like San Diego though, with its sprawling housing tracts filled with cookie-cutter stucco houses and ubiquitous strip malls. The homes here were all made of wood or shingle. White was the most popular color, but Leesa spotted some gray, light blue and pale yellow houses as well. The trim around the windows and the roof was often painted a colorful accenting hue. The stores usually occupied single buildings, often old, but well maintained and inviting. She was going to enjoy getting to know this area.

Uncle Roger slowed to ease past a pair of yellow and lime green spandex-clad bicyclists pedaling furiously along the narrow shoulder. Max gave them a quick bark, just to let them know he was there. Not much older than me, Leesa thought as she watched the riders recede behind them. Maybe Weston students. It looked like a good way to get around locally. Note to self: get a bike, but lose the spandex, please!

As much as she enjoyed the atmosphere and scenery along Highway 66—called Washington Street here in Middletown—she was unprepared for her first sight of the Weston campus. She had studied the colorful brochures and looked at pictures on the college’s website, but none of them came anywhere close to the real thing. Beautiful, imposing, inspiring and intimidating were some of the words that popped into her mind.

Behind a long, black wrought iron fence, a perfectly manicured hillside dotted with stout maples stretched like a green lake up to a brick building a few hundred feet away. A row of fluted white columns gave the building a stately, monumental look. Off to the left, a row of beautiful old houses lined a narrow road flanking the hillside. In the distance, Leesa could see a tall white church spire, its needle-like point etched sharply against the dark sky.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Aunt Janet asked.

“It’s amazing,” Leesa managed to reply. “Just amazing.”

“Wait until the leaves turn. It’s breathtaking.”

“I can’t wait,” Leesa said, trying to imagine the trees ablaze in fiery colors. She was certain the real thing would far exceed the pictures she’d seen.

Uncle Roger swung the Expedition through a wide stone gateway onto the campus. He drove slowly along the shady lanes, past impressive old brick and stone buildings, some fronted with white columns, others faced with arched, Gothic-style windows. A few sat close to the road; others were farther away, behind lush green lawns and thick hedges. They drove by a row of wooden mansions her guidebook said were once owned by river traders and merchants, but now housed administration or faculty. A few of the houses had been converted into offices. And everywhere, there were trees. And more trees.

Finally, Uncle Roger eased to a stop in front of a rectangular four-story building. Twisting vines of dark green ivy covered the weathered brick to the top of the first-floor windows. The words Ohmsford Hall were etched into a white triangular frieze above the front entrance. Leesa felt a small lump in her throat. Her dormitory. Her new home.

“Home, sweet home,” Uncle Roger said, switching off the engine.

As if to celebrate Leesa’s arrival, the gray sky squeezed out another round of drizzle, this time slightly heavier than before. Uncle Roger seemed to take no notice of the mild rain, unhurriedly lifting Leesa’s suitcases from the back and setting them down on the sidewalk. Max didn’t seem to mind the drizzle, either. His tail wagged joyously as he scampered up and down the narrow strip of grass between the street and sidewalk, never getting more than thirty feet or so from the car. Leesa smiled and raised her face to the sky, letting the tiny droplets dampen her cheeks. When she opened her eyes, she found her aunt and uncle watching her.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “You have no idea how good this feels.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Aunt Janet said. “Take all the time you want.”

“You two don’t need to get wet just because I want to feel the rain,” Leesa said.

“Wet?” Uncle Roger said, grinning and holding out one of his wide palms. “I’d hardly call this wet.” He glanced up at the darkening sky. “Might be fixin’ to be wet soon, though. We should probably get your stuff inside.”

Aunt Janet opened the back door of the Expedition. “In you go, boy,” she said to Max. “I doubt you’re allowed inside the dorm.”

Max jumped up onto the seat. Leesa limped over to the open door and leaned inside. She rubbed her hand along Max’s soft back and kissed the top of his head. “Bye, Max. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

She swung the door shut. With no sun and the cool temperature, Max would be fine in the car for a few minutes.

Uncle Roger grabbed the two biggest suitcases, lifting them easily in his thick hands and heading up the wide cement walkway. Aunt Janet took the medium-sized bag and followed her husband. Leesa limped along behind them, pulling her wheeled carry-on bag.

They stopped in front of one of the dorm’s two elevators. Leesa pushed the up button, which glowed yellow.

“We didn’t have an elevator in my dorm back in college,” Uncle Roger said. “Fourth floor, I was. Three years trudging up and down those stairs a dozen times a day. Finally got smart my senior year and moved down to the second floor.” He patted his rotund midsection. “Kept me trim, though.”

“I’m on the third floor,” Leesa said. “Room 302.”

A loud ding heralded the elevator’s arrival. The metal doors slid open a moment later. A petite blond girl Leesa’s age and an older man who was probably her father stepped out. The girl smiled shyly at Leesa, and the father held his arm across the doors to keep them open while Leesa and her aunt and uncle moved into the elevator. Uncle Roger dropped the two big suitcases to the floor with a thud as the doors slid shut.

Room 302 was across the hallway and a few steps down from the elevator. Convenient, Leesa thought as she retrieved her key from her pocket. Fingers trembling with excitement, she fumbled awkwardly for a few seconds before getting it into the lock. She grinned sheepishly at her aunt and uncle before twisting the key and pushing the door open.

The room was pretty much what she’d expected. A bit on the smallish side—though no smaller than her bedroom back home—and furnished in a simple, practical way. Cut into the far wall, a very cool Gothic-style arched window with square lead frames let the meager gray daylight filter into the room. Like some medieval castle, she thought. She flipped the light switch beside the door and a square glass fixture in the middle of the ceiling came on, brightening the room. Her nose detected the faint scent of bleach from a recent cleaning.

To her right, a twin bed rested against the pale brown wall—Band-Aid brown, she would hear it disparagingly called by another girl a few days later. Beyond the bed were two mirrored sliding closet doors. The opposite side of the room contained a four-drawer oak dresser and pair of blue vinyl chairs flanking a small round table. Mounted in the center of the wall above the table was a flat screen television. My tuition at work, Leesa thought as she limped across the tan industrial carpet and deposited her bag and purse on the bed. Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger followed her inside and set Leesa’s suitcases down in the center of the floor.

“Small, yet somehow not cozy,” Uncle Roger said, smiling.

“Oh, shush,” Aunt Janet said. “It just needs a few personal touches, that’s all.”

“I know it’s kinda small,” Leesa said, “but I wanted my own room.” She didn’t tell them she’d spent a fair amount of time debating whether to choose a single room or one of the more elaborately furnished suites. She didn’t make friends very easily, and a suite would have allowed her—maybe even forced her—to get to know another girl or two, which would have been nice. She hoped the dining room and the communal bathroom down the hall would provide enough opportunity to meet the other girls, even for someone as shy as her. So in the end, she decided her plans might benefit from the privacy of a single room. Besides, it wasn’t like she was used to anything all that homey back in San Diego.