Fall Into Forever (18 page)

“I…I…uh…hi.” The expression on her face is priceless.

As I head to the pop machine, my thoughts circle back to Jon. I’ve debated whether to try studying in the science library in hopes of running into him, but I decided that would be too stalkerish and weird. I’m so lost in my thoughts that I walk straight past the pop machine and have to turn around.

When I get back to the table, Cassidy and Touch are having a deep discussion about something science fiction–related. One look at how she’s twisting her hair, leaning toward him, and smiling into those dark eyes of his, and I know she totally forgives me.

chapter thirteen

Life sucks, but in a beautiful kind of way.

~ Axl Rose

Ivy

I’m in my dorm room, sitting on my bed with my headphones on and the door open. Since Cassidy is gone again this weekend and no one else is doing anything exciting, I decided to stay in tonight. I can’t remember who told me (it sure wasn’t Jon), but he’s taking over the Friday night radio spot again. I pull up the KREX website and hit the live-stream button. After a commercial for a local pizza place, the show starts with a really cool acoustic guitar jam.

“This is Jon Priestly on KREX filling in for Alice Chapparo.” The voice in my ear is smooth and hypnotic, like melted gourmet chocolate that you drizzle over ice cream. Sighing softly, I close my eyes and let his words become a part of me.

We could’ve been really good together.

Jon continues his intro. “Some interesting new music came in this week for You Be The Judge. That’s where you text your votes or tell me in the chat room, and at the end of the hour, the winner is crowned the Parishioners’ Fave. We’ve also got a new track from Money Penny Riot and an oldie from Pearl Jam. Thanks for spending your Friday night with me. And if you’re missing your fix of cool jazz, Alice will be back next week. This is Jon Priestly and church is now in session.”

My burst of laughter echoes loudly inside my room. I glance at the open door and hope no one out there heard me. Now I get the church references. The shirts. The jokes. His last name. God, I can be so dense sometimes.

He starts in right away playing some new music from a band out of LA. Wonder if Deena has heard of them. I can’t decide if I like them or not. They’ve got a weird sound, like Gotye’s “Somebody That I Used To Know,” the kind where you can’t tell if it’s cool because it’s unique or if it’s just really annoying.

Careful not to pull off my headphones, I lean over the end of my bed and grab a pencil and a fresh pad of paper from my desk. I don’t know about you, but I can’t start a new project with a half-used notebook. I’ve got a paper due next week in Comparative Lit, comparing and contrasting two young adult dystopian novels:
Battle Royale
and
The Hunger Games
. I’ve read
The Hunger Games
, but not
Battle Royale
. The paperback from the library is worn and dog-eared. I open the book and start reading.

I haven’t even gotten past the first page when Bryce pokes his head into my room. He’s the Resident Aid for our floor and lives in the studio apartment at the end of the hall. He lets Cassidy and me use his microwave to make popcorn when we watch
Vampire Diaries
, otherwise, we’d have to go all the way downstairs to the kitchen. Seeing that I’ve got headphones on, he waves and turns to leave.

“Hold up.” I pull them from the jack so the music is now coming out of the computer speakers. “What’s up, Bryce?”

“You studying?” He’s got a girl with him.

“I am. And listening to KREX. What’s up?”

Jon is introducing another song.

“Priestly’s on tonight,” he says. “That’s cool.”

Is there a person on campus who
doesn’t
know who Jon is?

Bryce introduces me to his friend Holly, a girl with a velvety dark complexion, a thick ponytail of braided cornrows, and beautiful gray eyes. Turns out she’s shadowing him because she’s thinking about being an RA next year. The applications are due next month.

“I don’t know, Holly,” I say. “We’re pretty wild here in Kefner Hall. Bryce is always busting our parties and shutting down our fun.” She looks confused, as if she can’t decide whether to believe me or not. “I’m just kidding. Things are usually pretty quiet.” As if to prove me wrong, a loud
thump thump
of music starts up down the hall. “Except for Viva la Vaughn. He’s got a disco ball underneath his lofted bed and probably has people in there now.”

“Is Cassidy gone this weekend?” Bryce asks, looking around. “Again?”

She told me her mom and stepdad might be getting a divorce, so she’s been going home a lot. I still wonder if it has something to do with Will. So far, she and Touch haven’t gone out yet, despite my best intentions to hook them up. “Yeah, she’ll be back late Sunday night.”

“We’re going to watch a movie, if you want to come down and hang out.”

“Which one got voted in?” Every month, students vote on what movies will be available for streaming on PSU Net. There are usually about ten to choose from. The one that gets the most votes is the one that stays up all month. “I haven’t been paying attention.”

Bryce frowns and looks to Holly. “I can’t remember. Do you know?”

“Going old-school this month,” she says. “
Terminator 2
. Not really my cup of tea, but whatever.”

My throat tightens. I remember the conversation Jon and I had about that movie, where he claimed I was quoting its theme. He mentioned we should watch it together sometime.

“Thanks for the invite, but I’ve got a lot of reading I need to do by Monday. I think I’ll just stay here.”

After they leave, I put on my headphones again, lean back against my headboard, and close my eyes. I listen to a few songs and then Jon is on the air again, talking about the zombie race that Dani mentioned. The race benefits a local cancer charity. He doesn’t say if entries are closed yet or not.

I wake up my computer and go to the KREX website, but I can’t find the link to the race. The chat window is located on the bottom right corner of the page. I watch the scrolling conversations. From what I can tell, there are seven or eight other people in the chat room besides Jon_KREX.

My fingers hover over the keys. Before I change my mind, I click the sign-in button and choose a screen name.

IOTR: Is the race still open to entries?

I watch the box. It takes him precisely two seconds to reply.

Jon_KREX: Welcome IOTR! Yes, it’s still open. Hold on. Let me get you the link.

He posts it a moment later.

IOTR: Cool. Thanks.

A few other people in the chat room thank him also.

Jon_KREX: RU a runner?

IOTR: Yep.

Jon_KREX: Good! Cuz you know what rule number one is, don’t you?

I laugh. He’s quoting
Zombieland
.

IOTR: Cardio.

Jon_KREX: Exactly.

Others chime in and pretty soon everyone in the chat room is talking about the double tap and Woody Harrelson’s quest for Twinkies. Meanwhile, Jon introduces another song, so he’s not participating in the conversation. Someone named Church_Lady mentions
Terminator 2
, and suddenly they’re all quoting Arnold lines.

Church_Lady: Have you seen it, IOTR?

IOTR: Nope.

Church_Lady: U totally need 2 watch. It’s on PSU Net all month.

IOTR: That’s what I hear.

I double-check that Jon’s still not in the chat room. His last comment has already scrolled off the page. The song ends and now he’s back on the air talking about some band in Seattle.

IOTR: A friend told me I should watch it.

Church_Lady: U definitely should! It’s my fave of all of them.

Viva la Vaughn’s music is loud. I can hear it even though I’ve got headphones on. I get up to close my door and step into my overflowing hamper, scattering dirty clothes on the floor. Oh yeah, I was going to do laundry tonight.

Friday and Saturday nights are the best times to wash clothes because you can usually get a washer and you don’t have to wait for a dryer. In case you’re wondering when the worst time is, that would be Sunday afternoon. Never do laundry in the dorms on a Sunday afternoon. You’ll spend waaaay too much time down there waiting for a spot. And if your clothes are hanging out in the washer for more than, like, five minutes after they’re done, someone will plop them on the center table between the washers and dryers. Meaning everyone who comes in will get a peek at your wet underwear.

I pick up the clothes, grab my detergent pods, and as I turn to go to the laundry room, my computer beeps. I haven’t heard that notification sound before. I set down the hamper and look at the screen. Someone from the KREX chat room has side-messaged me.

When I click open the private window, my breath catches in my throat.

Jon_KREX: Ivy is that you?

How did he figure that out? Was I that obvious? Oh God, he’s not thinking I’m stalking him, is he? I wipe my hands on my pajama bottoms before I type out a reply.

IOTR: Um, yeah.

Jon_KREX: Ivy On The Roof. Clever.

Obviously, not clever enough.

IOTR: Thx for the link about the zombie run.

Being an emoji addict, I have to stop myself from including a smiley-face.

Jon_KREX: NP

I’m not sure whether to head down to the laundry room now or continue the conversation. Maybe that’s all he intended to say.

IOTR: Good show tonight. Good music.

Jon_KREX: Thx

I wait for a moment, but he doesn’t type anything more. Okay then. I can take a hint.

IOTR: Talk to you later.

Jon_KREX: Going out?

Wow, that was a fast reply.

IOTR: Nope. C is gone so I’m studying for a test on Monday. And doing laundry.

I want to ask what he’s been up to. Tell him that I miss him and wish he could come over. When he doesn’t answer right away, I decide not to wait.

The extraordinarily beautiful laundry room (I’m saying that facetiously, because the cement walls are painted this really gross green color and it’s got a low, claustrophobic ceiling) is located in the basement, along with some storage rooms where the housing department keeps extra furniture. Bike storage is down here, too.

A couple of the washers and dryers are in use, but there are plenty of empty ones. Two is my lucky number, so I lift the lid of the second one from the door and dump in my whites. In the next one go my darks. A detergent pod in each and I’m good to go. I like that we don’t have to pay. Guess they include the cost of doing laundry in the housing bill each quarter.

As I exit the laundry room and head for the stairs, an out-of-place sound draws my attention. I hesitate. It’s a scuffling, scratching sound, like an animal. Rats? Or could it be something banging around in one of the dryers?

I jump onto the first stair and look into all the corners. The room at the bottom of the stairs is glaringly bright, but I don’t see anything that could’ve made that noise.

Then I hear it again. Definitely not the dryers, but it could be an animal.

I glance down the long hallway toward the basement door where people bring their bikes in and out. There are several doorways leading into various storage spaces. None of them have actual doors. One of the lights is burned out, so much of the hallway is in shadow. In fact, the brightness here makes the darkness down there seem really dark.

If it’s not an animal, is it a couple hooking up?

“If anyone’s there and you’re just messing around, tell me you’re okay and I’ll leave you alone.” The silence is deafening. Running up to the first landing, I call down. “Okay, I’m going upstairs to get the RA.”

I wasn’t really expecting to hear anything. But there’s another scuffle and then a small cry. Oh my God, is someone in trouble? I’m so pissed off at myself that I left my phone in the room. There is no way in hell I’m going down that hallway unless I know someone’s with me. I take three giant steps up to the next landing and open the door to the first floor residence hall.

“Help! I need help downstairs.” A few people stick their heads out of their rooms. “Hurry! I think someone’s hurt.” I motion for them to follow me but I don’t wait for them.

With my hand on the railing, I practically jump to the first landing again. That’s when I hear the slamming of the basement door. Three more giant steps and I’m back in the basement. Just as I round the corner, a girl stumbles out of one of the storage rooms, her shirt torn, her hair messy. I recognize her—I think she lives on the second floor—but I don’t know her name.

“Please...help me.” She looks like she’s ready to topple over.

I run to her, wrap my arm around her shoulder and usher her toward the stairs. “What happened?”

Multiple sets of footsteps echo in the stairwell, and three students, breathing hard, join us.

“I…I…someone attacked me. Back there. When I was bringing my bike in.” Then she breaks down into gasping sobs.