Shelter Me (29 page)

By the time I saw the university's bell tower looming in the distance, I deeply regretted my decision. But there was no turning back now.

Coasting through the paths and courtyard, I realized that I had no idea where to find Mark. It wasn't a large campus, but I still felt like I was searching for a needle in a haystack. Students were everywhere, and not a single one of them looked familiar to me. I knew Mark had occasionally brought some friends to visit Eternal Grace, so my only hope was seeing a face that I vaguely recognized. And then what - just walk up and start grilling them as to his whereabouts? Yeah, that wouldn't be awkward at all.

"
Jacob
?"

I squealed to a stop and whipped my head around.

Brandon was looking at me like I'd lost my mind. And really, being honest with myself, I kind of had.

"What are
you
doing here?" I demanded, dismounting.
 

"Uh, I could ask you the same question, sweaty." Brandon wrinkled his nose. "Did you ride all the way from...oh my gosh, you
did
, didn't you?" His eyes were wide, and he was grinning in disbelief. "Holy...okay, no, you tell your story first."

"I...look, it's complicated, but I need to talk to Mark. It's urgent."

"They have these new things now," Brandon said, gesturing me to follow him as he headed towards one of the paths. "They're called phones."

"He's not picking up," I said. "Apparently. And he certainly wouldn't pick up for me."

"Okkaaaay," said Brandon, slowly. "We'll unpack all that later. I'm here because I'm visiting. You know. As a potential student. Like a normal person. Your turn."

"It's Marissa," I said. "It's...bad things. I can't talk about it, really. I swear. I'd love to tell you, but I don't think she'd want anyone else to know. The point is, I need to talk to Mark because I need to find her, and this is the only way."

"I'd like to return to my previous thesis," said Brandon. "Phones."

"She's not going to pick up for me, either."

Brandon stared at me. "What did you
do
?"

"Nothing," I said. "Well - not nothing. I did something bad. But not as bad as..." I shook my head. "No. No. I really can't - I don't want to get into it right now. But I need to see Mark. I need to find him."

"I don't know if I want to be a party to this," said Brandon, but he kept walking. "If Mark's on campus you'll find him here. He might be in class, though."

"I can wait."

"Pretty much all of the advanced coursework goes on in this building."

I looked around; there were folding tables and chairs set up all over the courtyard, with "WELCOME FUTURE STUDENTS" banners, and...were they handing out pizza?

"Oh, awesome," said Brandon. "There's the pizza they promised. Hang on." He trotted over, grabbed a few slices, and hurried back, chewing as he went. "It's visitor's week," he said, through a mouthful of cheese and crust. "So they're really rolling out the red carpet. I bet if you ask anyone sitting behind one of those tables, they'll probably know where Mark is right now. He's pretty much friends with everybody here."

I decided to take his advice - I didn't really know what else to do. There was a guy who looked to be about Mark's age, handing out pamphlets, and he didn't seem too busy. I walked up to him.

"Hi," I said.

"Welcome!" he exclaimed, grinning. "Beautiful day, huh?"

"Sure is," I replied. "Listen, this might be a long shot, but do you know Mark Allan?"

"Oh, sure," he said. "Of course I know Mark. I think it would be hard to find someone around here who doesn't."

"I'm from Eternal Grace," I said. "Got to know him through the youth group there. He told me I should stop by this week and he'd give me a personal tour, but he's not answering his phone. I'm guessing he's probably in class, but I don't even know where to go look for him."

"Oh, gotcha. Sure." He considered it for a moment. "Well off the top of my head, but I know he volunteered to help run this booth, so I doubt he's got anything else scheduled. They ended up picking me instead. But I know this - if he's got free time, he usually spends it with the younger students, over at the other side of campus. There's a common room at the dorms. Just take a straight diagonal across the courtyard, until you see the building that looks like a cathedral. The towers next to it are the dorms, and if you walk straight in through the main doors, the common room will be on your left, next to the staircase."

"Thank you," I said, fervently, hopping on my bike and drifting over to Brandon. "I'm going to go find him," I said. "Enjoy your pizza. I promise someday I'll explain what's going on."

"Sure," said Brandon. "Whatever you're doing, don't act like an idiot, okay?"

"I think it might be a little too late for that."

When I got to my destination, I fastened my bike to one of the stands and took off my helmet. I ran my fingers through my hair, took a deep breath, and walked inside.

The common room was massive. My eyes darted over the sea of faces, many of whom looked as lost and overwhelmed as I was. Visitors, then. Though most of them probably weren't here for nearly as dramatic of a reason.

I edged my way into the room, doing my best to stay unnoticed. But after a while, it became obvious Mark wasn't here.
 

Defeated, I sat down at one of the few empty tables and tried to figure out what my next move was. I had no idea, and I had no time to waste.
 

"Hey there, you visiting?"

A very cheerful student, about my age, was looking at me.

"Yeah," I said. "Actually, I'm looking for someone I'm supposed to meet. Mark Allan?"

"Oh, Mark!" He nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, yeah, I know him. He's probably with Chrissy."

"Chrissy," I repeated.
 

"Yeah," said the student, gesturing for me to come along with him. "You know, his girlfriend."

I stopped dead in my tracks.

After a few moments, the student seemed to notice that I wasn't following behind him, and he stopped and turned. "You okay? Come on, I bet they're in her room."

"I don't want to bother him," I said.

"Don't be silly, come on."

My heart felt like a clenched fist in my chest. As I followed the student up the stairs, my feet felt like they were encased in concrete.

We walked down a hallway of numbered doors, until the student stopped at one of them, raised his fist, and pounded.

"Sorry," he said, smiling sheepishly. "They're thick, you have to hit 'em hard or nobody can hear you."

"It's fine," I assured him. A few moments passed with no response. "Maybe I should just go," I said, shifting my weight from one foot to the other.
 

"No, no, I'm sure he'll be glad to see you!" He pounded on the door again, even harder this time.

"Just a minute!" came Mark's voice from inside, sounding slightly panicked.

Finally, the door swung open. He was half-dressed, his shirt unbuttoned, and there was a girl sitting on the edge of the bed with badly mussed hair.
 

"Jacob?" Mark stared at me. "What are you doing here?"

The student stepped back, slowly, finally turning and walking down the hallway at a good clip.

"Really?" I said. "Marissa's cat is sick. I'm trying to find her, her parents don't know where she is. I thought she might be here with you." I glanced at the girl. "But I guess not, huh?"

Mark's mouth was a thin line. "This is none of your business," he said. "And I don't know where she is."

"Marissa?" Chrissy said, her eyes growing wide, then narrowing. "Who's Marissa?"

I felt bad for her, but it was better that she find out now.

"His wife," I said. "I'm sorry." I looked at Mark again. "If she calls, would you send her home please?"

"She won't call me," he said. "She'll never call me again."

"And neither will I!" Chrissy snarled, grabbing a purse and jacket off the floor and shoving past both of us, storming down the hallway.

"That was pretty self-aware, for you," I said, as Mark stood there with a completely unreadable expression on his face. "I'm impressed."

He slammed the door in my face.

As I walked away, I noticed Chrissy slumped on the floor against the wall, further down, crying.

"Hey," I said, hesitating as I passed. "I'm really sorry."

She sniffed. "It's not your fault," she said.
 

"I know," I said. "But I'm sorry anyway."

***

I hated to call Mrs. Moore with no news, but I thought I should at least let her know that I was trying. She answered the phone with a pang of hope in her voice that made my heart twist.

"Mrs. Moore, it's Jacob. I don't have any news yet. I'm sorry. But I'm trying."

She let out a massive sigh. "That's...thank you, Jacob. I really appreciate it."

"I was able to get ahold of Mark. He doesn't know where she is."

Mrs. Moore breathed in, sharply. "He doesn't know anything?"

"Well, that's what he said."

"But she...she packed bags. She has to be...she must be planning on going somewhere."

Suddenly, a memory came back to me, as clear and sharp as if it had happened yesterday.

"Did you check the bus station?" I asked.

"Of course," she said. "That's the first place we looked."

I was remembering that day in my garage, when I'd fixed her bike chain. When she'd told me exactly how she would run away.

"Mrs. Moore, I have to go. I'm sorry. But I will let you know as soon as I hear anything, all right?"

"Thank you, Jacob."

I ran back to my bike, jumped on it, and started riding straight back to Hobb's Vale.

Pedaling fiercely, I zoomed through red lights at busy intersections, ignoring the honks and dodging wayward cars. I wasn't sure how much time I had, but I knew that if I got to the bus station before she did, I'd at least have a chance to talk to her. It was a crazy hunch, and I didn't want to give her parents the false hope - I'd go there and I'd wait for her myself.

I felt a little sick. If I'd known how much guilt would settle in afterwards, I never would have slept with her. I would have told her to go with Mark, if I'd thought that's what would truly make her happy.

But it wasn't. I knew it wasn't. And she knew, too, which was probably why she felt so trapped that she had to leave behind everything and everyone she knew.

A fresh start. It was an awfully tempting prospect. Just getting away from this town that we'd lived in our whole lives, away from all the people who thought they knew us better than we knew ourselves. To be able to make a decision without the nagging hesitation in the back of my mind:
what will everyone think?

I got to the bus station in record time, walking my bike in and leaning it against the seats in the corner next to me. Here, I was slightly out of sight from the doors, so if she came in, at least she wouldn't bolt immediately.
 

After a while, the attendant stuck his head out of the window.

"Hey, man," he said. "Are you going somewhere?"

I shook my head.

"Well, you can't hang out here if you're not going somewhere. You gotta buy a ticket."

"I'm waiting for somebody," I said.

"Waiting for somebody," he repeated. "You brought a bike here, what are you gonna do, give them a ride home on the handlebars?"

"Maybe," I said.

"Look, man." He sighed. "I don't like it either, but all this terrorism and shit, if somebody looks at the security camera tapes later and sees you just sitting there, they're gonna ask me why I let you hang out here. Why I didn't call the cops. If I see something, I'm supposed to say something."

"But you didn't see anything," I insisted. "Just a guy, waiting here for someone."

"Come on, man, just buy a ticket."

"All right. For crying out loud." I stood up and pulled out my wallet. "What's the cheapest one you have?"

He stared at me as I approached the window. "Technically, that's a red flag too."

"Are you really going to do this right now?"

"I'm sorry, I'm just trying to do my job."

"Okay, all right. Give me the second cheapest ticket."

"Twenty-one dollars and five cents, please."

"Thank you." I snatched the ticket from him. "You've been very helpful."

He kept sticking his head out and eyeballing me suspiciously, but I kept on ignoring him, my useless ticket shoved in my back pocket. This wasn't exactly a highly-trafficked station, so I sat there in utter silence except for the low murmur of the TV in the corner, which was tuned to some shopping channel. They were really excited about some kind of new squirrel-proof bird feeder.

The door creaked open. My heart thudded but I forced myself to take a deep breath before standing up and walking around the corner.

She looked like a ghost.

Pale and exhausted, dark circles around her eyes, almost dwarfed by the bags she was carrying. When she saw me, her eyes went wide, but I started talking before she had a chance to do anything.

"Mari, listen. Your parents have been looking for you all morning. It's George. He's sick."

Her face changed. The inner battle was obvious - when she'd decided to leave, she must have known that she'd never see him again. But knowing that he was suffering at this moment, and she had one last chance to say goodbye...that was different.

She just stared at me. "I can't go back there, Jacob." Her voice was quivering. "I can't. I just can't."

"I'm sorry," I said. "I just thought - I thought you should know. Your parents are going crazy. Did you even leave a note?"

She ignored my rhetorical question. "This was it," she said. "This was my chance. If I don't leave now, I'll never get out of this place."

"Maybe you don't have to."
 

She looked at me like I was exactly as stupid as I felt, for saying that.

"I know, I know," I said. I felt sick to my stomach. I knew if she didn't see George, she'd always regret it. But I also knew that she'd never be able to gather up the courage to leave again, if she turned around now. I couldn't even imagine.