Mine: A Love Story (10 page)

College is not all fun and games, and dates and kisses, I am reminded quite clearly when midterms week arrives. I’ve been studying like mad all week, sleeping little and playing even less. I’m pretty sure I did well on my first three tests, but my algebra final is really messing with my brain. Luckily, I’m nearly finished, and that will be it for tests and pressure—until finals, anyway. Ugh!

I scribble an answer to the last question and then flip my Blue Book closed. Leaning back in my chair, I draw in and let out what feels like my first real breath in almost two hours. I still have a few minutes left for the exam, but I am done—sooo done. I think I did pretty well, though. I should get at least a B. All my studying paid off, thank god. I’m glad I got up early, too, because one of the problems on the test was something I studied this morning. Now I just want to go home, maybe take a nap.

I walk my booklet up to the front and drop it on top of the few others already there. The professor, a dour older guy who doesn’t smile often, nods and rewards me with a small smile. I smile back sweetly before turning and heading for the door. It never hurts to do a little flirting with the teacher!

My mood lifts when I see Chris smiling up at me from the bottom of the steps. He’s wearing jeans and a black waffle knit T-shirt with a small “No Fear” logo above his heart. Maybe if I got a shirt like that I’d have less fear in
my
heart. I should be so lucky.

Seeing Chris here is a total surprise, and a nice one. My fatigue seems to melt away as I hurry down the stairs.

He gives me a quick peck on the lips. “Hi, gorgeous,” he says. “How’d you do?”

“I did good,” I say. “At least, I think I did.”

“How about I take you to lunch?” he asks. “As a reward for surviving your first taste of midterms.”

“Great,” I reply, smiling. “I’m starving. I didn’t have time for breakfast.”

He takes my hand in his. “Anywhere special you want to go?” he asks.

“Let’s just go over to the Student Center,” I suggest. “It’s the nearest place with food.”

“Sounds like a plan,” he replies. “Let’s go.”

He keeps hold of my hand as we head around the corner toward the Student Center, which is only a block away.

The dining hall inside the Student Center is huge, furnished with drab, utilitarian plastic chairs and square wooden tables that can be pushed together to accommodate groups of any size. The rear wall is almost all glass and looks out onto the Green. I find myself smiling as I remember our wonderful night out there by the fountain. The food here is served cafeteria-style so we head over to the long glass-covered counter. It’s stocked with sandwiches, salads, vegetables and side dishes. Behind the counter at the far end, a giant grill sizzles with hot dogs and hamburgers.

We cross to the food line. Ever the gentleman, Chris grabs two red plastic trays and hands one to me. He does the same with silverware and napkins. The line is short and moves quickly, with most of the kids skipping past the salads and veggies and heading straight for the sandwiches, fries and burgers. That’s exactly what Chris and I do.

There’s no wait at the grill, because this time of day the cook just keeps slapping burgers onto the sizzling grill, knowing how fast they’ll disappear. Less than five minutes after we entered the building, Chris and I have gotten our food, grabbed two sodas, and found a table by the huge rear window. The din from dozens of animated conversations fills the place, but it’s not too bad. I squirt some ketchup onto my fries and burger, and then offer the bottle to Chris.

I know it would probably be polite to wait until he’s done getting his food ready before I start eating, but I’m too hungry. I grab my burger and take a big bite. As usual, the meat is cooked a bit too much, but as hungry as I am, it tastes great. Ditto with the fries—they’re underdone and a little soggy, but that doesn’t stop me from enjoying them.

A few bites of burger and a couple of fries take the edge of my hunger, and I slow down a bit. Chris is holding his burger in two hands in front of his mouth, watching me. It looks like he’s only taken one bite so far, so he must not be nearly as hungry as I was. He seems to be looking at me a little bit funny, and I wonder if I have ketchup on my face or something.

I put my burger down and wipe my face with my napkin. Nope, no ketchup. It must be something else. Maybe the way I was wolfing down my food. Note to self: in the future, try to eat more lady-like.

“Is something wrong?” I ask.

He looks startled, like he didn’t realize he was staring at me. “Umm…no,” he stammers. “Why?”

“You were looking at me kind of strangely,” I say.

He takes a drink from his soda before replying. “Strangely?” he repeats. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure if I can describe it,” I say. “It just felt like you were looking at me a little hard, maybe. I thought I’d smeared ketchup on my face or something.”

“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He grins. “I just like looking at you. You’re pretty cute.”

I smile back. I’m finally getting used to him saying stuff like that, and even better, I’m starting to believe he means it.

“Thanks,” I say. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

We both return to our food. The rest of lunch goes just fine, but I can’t rid of the feeling that something is wrong. It’s nothing I can put my finger on, just a feeling that won’t go away. Maybe I’m just tired from so much studying. I hope so. God knows I could use some sleep.

Friday morning I sleep in. It’s been a long, tough week of studying and test taking, and I need the sleep. I deserve it, too. Just like I deserve the dinner Chris is taking me out for tonight.

It’s after ten o’clock when I finally throw back the covers and swing my feet over the side of my bed. My eyes feel like someone rubbed sand in them and my mouth tastes like I’ve been chewing on a dirty sock. I think I have a Red Bull hangover.

“Welcome to the land of the living,” Marissa says.

She’s lying on her bed, dressed in black sweat pants and a gray T-shirt, reading a book. Her hair is damp. When she sits up, I see the front of the shirt is covered with a bright green design that looks like someone threw fluorescent paint at her.

“Ugggh,” I say, rubbing my eyes. “I’m not sure I qualify as alive just yet. How long you been up?”

“Not long. Maybe forty-five minutes. When I woke up, I felt like you look right now.” She lifts an empty can of Red Bull from the bed. “One of these plus a shower did wonders. Want me to get you one?”

“No. Thanks. I’m going to stay away from that stuff for awhile. I don’t think I do caffeine very well.”

I force myself to my feet and grab a bottle of water from our mini-refrigerator. I take a mouthful and swish it around inside my mouth. The cold water feels awesome—I can almost feel the parched lining of my mouth soaking it up. Finally, I spit it out into the sink and take a big swallow. I’m starting to feel human. I’m also kind of hungry. I turn around and find Marissa watching me.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” I ask.

“Just an orange,” she says, nodding toward the small basket of fruit atop the mini-fridge.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, then how about we go down and get some breakfast?”

“Sounds good,” Marissa says.

Now that I’m starting to wake up, I’m beginning to pick up a strange vibe from Marissa. It feels like she’s looking at me a little strangely. I wonder if I’m imagining it. What is going on with me? First Chris, and now Marissa. I really am becoming paranoid. Maybe I really do need to stay away from Red Bull.

I definitely need that shower, that much I know. I put on my terrycloth robe, grab a towel, and head down the hallway.

When I get back from the shower, Katie is sitting on Marissa’s desk chair. Like Marissa, she’s dressed for hanging around the dorm comfortably—dark blue yoga pants and light blue T-shirt. A column of dark blue diamonds runs down the right side of the shirt.

Marissa is sitting in her favorite spot, on the bed with her back propped on a pillow against the wall. She’s still wearing her sweatpants and T-shirt. I know her well enough to know she’s not going down to breakfast dressed like that. At eight in the morning if she’s in a rush, maybe, but not at eleven.

Katie looks up at me as I enter. She’s got a very uncomfortable look on her face. I
know
I’m not imagining that. What the heck is going on? Katie turns her face away from me and exchanges a glance with Marissa.

“What’s going on, guys?” I ask.

“We need to talk to you, Heather,” Marissa says. “Why don’t you get dressed, then we’ll talk.”

I clutch my robe tighter around me. “You guys are creeping me out,” I say. “What is it?”

“Get dressed,” Marissa says softly. “Just throw something on. Anything.”

I’m starting to get really anxious. I have no idea what’s happening. Cautious girl does not like to feel in the dark like this. In fact, she hates it. For a moment, I think maybe I should go back into the shower and try this all over again. Or maybe go home and
really
start all over again.

I slip into the most comfortable things I own—a pair of dark gray sweats and a baggy black and white striped T-shirt. My wet hair begins to soak into my shirt, so I wrap it into a tight bun behind my head. It’s going to look like crap when I let it down, but I’m beginning to think that’s going be the least of my worries.

Neither Marissa nor Katie has said a single word while I dress. As soon as I get my hair up, I sit down on my bed. Without really thinking about it, I bring my legs up against me and wrap my arms around my shins protectively. I have a fleeting thought that maybe if I close my eyes, when I open them none of this will be happening. Maybe it’s just a stress dream.

I should be so lucky.

“Well?” I ask. “What’s going on?”

Katie looks at Marissa, who nods to her.

“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you,” Katie begins, “but Marissa said I had to. But not until midterms were over. We didn’t want to mess up your tests.”

Not until midterms were over. Didn’t want to mess up your tests.
Now I know this is going to be bad. But what the heck can it be? And do I really want to know? Didn’t I read somewhere that “ignorance is bliss?” I’m all in favor of bliss right now. Lots and lots of bliss.

“Are you sure this is something I want to hear?” I ask, feeling like a condemned person praying for a stay of execution.

Marissa gets up and crosses the room. She sits beside me on my bed and puts her arm around my shoulders. Yep, this is going to be bad, all right.

“It’s not something you’ll want to hear,” Marissa says gently, “but it’s something you need to hear. Go ahead, Katie.”

Katie looks like she’d rather be anywhere but here. God, do I know that feeling.

“It’s about Chris,” she says hesitantly.

Chris!?
My mind starts racing. What about him? Is he alright? Has something happened to him? I just saw him yesterday, at lunch and at vampire class. He seemed fine. No, wait…I thought he was looking at me funny. Maybe I
wasn’t
imagining it. Maybe he had something he wanted to tell me. Maybe he’s sick. Oh god, don’t tell me he’s dying!

I try to rein in my thoughts before my imagination completely runs away from me. It can’t be anything like that—why would Katie be the one telling me if it was? She barely knows Chris. No, it has to be something else. But what?

“I, uh, saw Chris Wednesday morning,” Katie begins. The hesitation is clear in her voice. “Over at Clayton.”

Clayton is a girls dormitory on the other side of campus. So what if she saw him there? Maybe he has a friend there, someone from one of his classes or something. Wednesday morning, no big deal. At least she didn’t seem him there at midnight. But why is she telling me this if it’s no big deal?

Somehow, I summon the courage to ask, “What was he doing?”

“He was, uh, leaving,” Katie says. “I’m not sure if he saw me or not. Or if he knows I saw him.”

Leaving?
So what’s the big deal? I was afraid she was going to tell me she saw him kissing someone, or holding someone’s hand. There’s got to me more to it. Uh, oh. What if…?

“Was he alone?” I ask, afraid to hear the answer.

“Yeah, he was alone.”

I’m totally confused now. She saw him leaving a girls dorm, by himself. Why are she and Marissa making such an issue of this? It makes no sense.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “What’s the big deal?”

“She saw him leaving at eight o’clock in the morning,” Marissa says.

I look at Marissa for a moment, and then turn my eyes back to Katie.

“I was going over there to do some last minute studying with a friend from high school who’s in my history class,” Katie explains. “Chris was leaving one of the rooms. It was at the far end of the hall, and he turned the other way when he left. That’s why I don’t know if he saw me. But I think he might have.”

I try to process all this, but my brain doesn’t seem to want to work very well at the moment. Leaving a girl’s room at eight in the morning—that doesn’t sound good. No, not good at all. Was that why he was looking at me strangely yesterday? Was it guilt I saw on his face?

Katie is wringing her hands in her lap. She clearly doesn’t want to go on, but she does.

“I asked my friend about the girl who lives there,” she says. For a moment, she is silent, but I know there’s more. “She said the girl is the dorm slut,” she says finally.

My heart drops as the picture completes itself
. Oh, Chris, how could you do this to me?
I feel Marissa’s arm tighten around my shoulders.

“We wanted to make sure before we told you anything,” Marissa says, “so Katie’s friend talked to the girl who lives in the room next to the one Chris was leaving.” She pauses for a moment. “She said she heard them doing it. She was sure of it.”

The tears explode out of me. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I twist around and bury my face against Marissa’s shoulder, sobbing.