The Felix Chronicles: Freshmen (43 page)

“Exactly!” Lucas said. “See! Felix knows what’s up. Allison has a four point, but we got common sense.” He popped off the plastic cover and peeled away the aluminum liner beneath it. He leaned forward and submerged his nose into the container, giving it a sniff. Then he jerked his head back like he’d been blasted in the eyes with pepper spray and pushed it away, nearly knocking it over.

“Oh God!” Lucas gasped, making a face like he’d walked in on his parents having sex. “That smells… a… a little
funky
. Whadya think?” He retrieved it, holding it up so Felix could get a whiff.

“Ewwwwww!” Felix covered his nose, and yanked his face away from the container. It was absolutely rancid, a mixture of sour milk and foot fungus. “Cat piss! I mean, seriously. My grandma had this old cat with a kidney problem that pissed all over the house. And that”—he pointed at the S-S-P-P-P-P—“smells just like her house.”

Caitlin crossed her arms, looking smug and self-satisfied. “I hope your cologne smells just like it. Then everyone can experience the
mystery and lifestyle
of smelling like cat urine. Not that you’d care. Drink up, wise old sage.”

“Kinda serves you right,” Allison said, laughing. “Maybe next time, you’ll actually try the product. Now you’re the face of protein powder that smells like piss.”

Lucas put the cover back on the container and slipped it into his backpack. “Ah well.” He shrugged. “Live and learn, right? Wow, that stuff’s disgusting. I’d love to try it just to shut you guys up, but I’m pretty sure I’d toss my cookies.”

“Please don’t,” Caitlin told him, her expression serious. “I’m not interested in substituting my vinaigrette for your vomit.”

“Anyone else not in the mood to go to the library?” Harper sank back in her chair and looked around the table. “Wanna watch a movie in my room? My weirdo roommate’s out again with her weirdo boyfriend.”

“Sounds good,” Lucas said. “I don’t need an excuse not to study.”

“I’m in,” Caitlin said.

Allison nodded. “Sure.”

Shit
, Felix thought, staring down helplessly at his half-eaten plate of pasta, trying to decide what to tell her. He knew that he should have concocted something in advance, but he hadn’t had a minute to himself all day. And now that he was on the spot, his mind was drawing a blank.

“Felix?” Harper said expectantly. “We can even watch some mindless Dirk Rathman action flick if you want. You in?”

Felix smiled in an attempt to conceal his consternation. “I can’t,” he muttered.

“Sorry?” Harper said, tilting her head in surprise. “Why not? You have something better to do?”

“I… I uh… I need to study. I’m really behind in Psychology. Malone gave the class like a hundred pages to read, and I haven’t even started.” That made no sense whatsoever.
Stupid.

Harper’s face flushed, her jaw tightened. “You can’t be serious. Finals are like a month away, and Malone just gave you an A. You’re killing that class.”

Felix didn’t know what to say. He shifted around uncomfortably in his chair, started to mumble something, and ended up looking down at his plate.

“I don’t get it,” Harper said, the anger in her voice apparent to everyone at the table. “Why would you go to the library when the rest of us are—”

“Hey!” Allison snapped, her eyes flashing. “Why are you jumping down his throat? He wants to freakin’ study. Cut him some slack!”

“Chill out!” Harper snapped back. “I didn’t jump down his throat.”

Felix sat there silently, embarrassed. No one spoke for a good minute.

“Well go study!” Harper shouted at him. Now she was really fired up. “You have pages to read, don’t you?”

Without making eye contact with anyone, Felix gathered his things and got up from the table. He made his way out of the cafeteria, berating himself for not having prepared a better excuse. Just when he reached the lobby, he heard Allison calling his name.

“What’s going on?” she whispered, once she’d caught up to him. “You’re not really studying, are you?”

Felix looked around to make sure nobody could hear them. A few students were playing pool and watching TV in the common room, but no one within earshot. “I’m meeting Bill at midnight at some old building in the Old Campus.”

“The
dead campus
?” Allison’s eyes grew large. “Why?”

“He wants me to start training.”

“Training?”
She paused. “Oh. You mean—”

“To use the Source,” he said, as quietly as he could.

Allison’s eyes lit up. “Really? What are you gonna do?”

He shook his head. “Guess I’ll find out.”

She smiled. “I’m jammed up all day tomorrow, but swing by my room before dinner, okay?”

“Hey, Allie, do you think Harper is… you think… she seems pretty mad. You think she’s all right? I’m such a shitty liar.”

Allison shrugged, still smiling. “That was pretty bad. Don’t worry. She’s just a little moody. She’ll get over it. Probably already has.”

On a cold late autumn night, Felix slogged his way toward the Old Campus, holding his umbrella out in front like a shield, trying to stay dry, which wasn’t an easy thing to do because the rain was falling in relentless sheets, hitting him sideways. He’d killed time at the Caffeine Hut studying (unsuccessfully), drinking coffee (until his hands began to tremor), fretting over Harper (she’d overreacted but he didn’t blame her), and kicking himself for being such an idiot (his mom used to say she could tell when he was lying even before he opened his mouth—his body language gave him away).

The conditions weren’t exactly ideal for a midnight stroll. He followed a desolate path past the Student Center and the buildings beyond it to the west, through a grove of firs and a little garden full of stones, grass and statues, and over a creek—the Mill Stream—that drew its waters from a natural spring. Then he saw it: Tucked behind stone fortifications like a medieval fortress, the pitched rooflines of six enormous buildings came into view—the Old Campus. Although the architecture was similar to the rest of the campus, the Old Campus buildings, adorned with towers, spires, roofs, sub-roofs, chimneys, peaks and gables, had been finished with more of an artistic flourish.

He leaned into a stiff headwind, frequently peeking over the umbrella to see where he was in relation to the stone walls (and to make sure he didn’t smash his face into another lamppost). Each time he stole a glance, the buildings drew nearer until finally he reached the eastern wall and began searching for the entrance. On his trips to the stadium, the gate had seemed prominent enough, and he was sure he knew where it was. But he’d never looked for it in a rainstorm in the dead of night. Eventually he found it, but not before going in the wrong direction and having to double back.

He dug his free hand deeper into the pocket of his jacket and slipped through the unlatched iron gate, then headed toward the center of the Old Campus along a dismally-lit brick walkway. The antique light posts may have been cutting edge in the nineteenth century, but now they were dreadfully inadequate, illuminating just pockets of the meandering path and the patchy threadbare grass next to it. The buildings remained in the shadows, the darkened husks standing guard like ominous, malevolent sphinxes.

The wind was ferocious, thrashing his umbrella, straining his grip on the curved handle. Low-hanging branches stretched across the path, slithering like the tentacles of a giant sea monster. Buildings on either side—front doors padlocked, warning signs nailed to the doors cautioning people to stay out—watched him hurrying along, looming in pools of eerie wind-shifting shadows. The buildings reminded him of tombstones; their windows, black soulless eyes.

The Old Campus had never inspired much thought or curiosity for Felix. It just sat there. He’d seen it from a distance a hundred times, and from that vantage point, despite the odd calmness of the place—only birds seemed to go there—it somehow blended right in, just another part of campus, no different than the dorms or lecture halls. But inside the walls everything looked different. This was not PC. It was as if the rusting iron gate was a threshold that transported unwary visitors through space and time to a different place, a place with no connection at all to PC. Felix felt like an intruder, like his presence was stirring up bitter, resentful feelings. He remembered Lucas talking about how scared his brother had been when he came through here after losing a bet—how he felt like something wanted to kill him. The story seemed funny at the time. But now Felix could relate. Being here was unnerving. Right out of a slasher movie. Maybe this was where the St. Rose Ghost lurked when she wasn’t haunting the Star Trees and luring kids into the tunnels beneath the chapel. He glanced over his shoulder to see if she was trailing after him. The possibility of it didn’t seem so foolish. Not at all.

He tried not to think about her glowing green eyes, or the thousands of bodies buried in the secret cemetery. This wasn’t the best place to dwell on ghosts and hidden graves. But her voice was inside his head, and he could hear it as clearly as if she was whispering the words in his ear:
I want you to find your truth. The choice is yours.
It made his skin crawl, though he still had no idea what it meant. Assuming, of course, that he hadn’t imagined it.

He made it to the center building without encountering the St. Rose Ghost, or anyone else, living or dead, and for the first time, he noticed the quiet stillness. It was as though the high walls encircling the Old Campus had somehow magically insulated it from the sounds of the modern world. Why couldn’t Bill have chosen someplace else to do this? he wondered. Even the tunnels would be better than—

“Felix,” a voice hissed from behind.

He gasped and spun around.

“It’s me.” Bill emerged from the darkness, his face shrouded in shadows from the umbrella he was holding.

“You scared the shit outta me!” Felix said, his voice shaky.

“Sorry. Nobody comes around here, especially at night. But we can’t be too careful. Come on, follow me.”

Bill led him past the front entrance—chiseled into the stone façade above the padlocked double doors were the words INVERNESS HALL—and around to the side of the building where they stopped at a door badly in need of a new coat of paint. Bill quickly inserted a key into the keyhole, unlocking the door with a loud
click
.

Felix flinched at the sound.

“It’s okay,” Bill assured him. “Get in.” Bill pushed the door open a crack and held it for him, locking it behind them once they were in.

It was even darker inside. The air was cool and musty. Felix’s eyes strained to make out his surroundings. The ancient building was as dark as a tomb. It was like being submerged in a tarpit, a sea of oil. But as he stood there waiting for his eyes to start working, to adjust to the gloom, he became aware that a tiny amount of pale yellow light was filtering through the dirty windowpanes. He was standing in a long narrow hallway with doors on either side. He shook his umbrella dry and stowed it away in his backpack.

In a low voice, Bill said, “This way.”

Felix felt somewhat conscious of being alone with Bill, a virtual stranger, in a dead campus building, but that was far less concerning than what they were presently doing. If campus security showed up, Lucas would have their dorm room all to himself; the administration likely frowned upon breaking into buildings, and he was willing to bet his life that it constituted a violation of the Student Code of Conduct, even though he, and every student who’d ever attended PC, had never read it.

They proceeded slowly down the hallway, the old wooden floors creaking loudly with each step. Something scurried along the floor up ahead, making scratching noises. Felix wasn’t rat-phobic, but he would definitely flip out (and maybe jump out a window) if he felt claws scampering up his leg. The hallway ended, opening up to a large circular room with a magnificent antebellum-style imperial staircase.

“We’re in the lobby,” Bill whispered. “We’re going up to the library. Be careful where you step. This is the oldest building on campus. Some of the stairs have seen better days.”

“Okay,” Felix whispered back as they started up. “How many floors are there?”

“Four,” Bill said over his shoulder. “All these old buildings are nearly identical. We’re going to the top.”

“Why’s it so cold in here?” He buried his hands in his jacket pockets, his wet sneakers rasping on the worn wooden steps.

“The heat’s turned off. It’s not much warmer in here than it is outside.”

“I noticed.” Felix snagged his foot on the lip of one of the stairs and had to catch himself on the railing.

“Careful,” Bill said.

The stairs crackled and groaned as they made their way up in the darkness. Some part of Felix’s brain was in a masochistic mood, amusing itself by torturing the rest of his brain with thoughts of what it would feel like to fall through a staircase. He tried to block out the images of flesh-piercing compound fractures and bleeding to death in the cellar of a thousand-year-old building, instead focusing on Bill’s feet, trying to step where he stepped. The faint light coming in through the windows grew weaker the higher they climbed, gradually fading out altogether. When they reached the fourth floor landing, Bill stopped, and Felix promptly bumped into his backside.

“Sorry,” Felix said. It was completely and absolutely dark, as dark as the tunnel beneath St. Rose when the lights went out. He couldn’t see Bill, but he could hear him; it sounded like he was slowly dragging his rubber galoshes across the floor in a circle, trying to reorient himself in the inky darkness.

“Hey,” Felix whispered. “I can’t see shit.”

“No kidding. It’s a little better in the library. Grab the back of my jacket and stay tight.”

Felix took a handful of Bill’s pea coat and shuffled along behind as Bill led him down what Felix imagined could only be a hallway. Just after he stepped on the back of Bill’s shoes for the third time, a pocket of gray light appeared up ahead and to his right.