Blue Is for Nightmares (20 page)

"Wait," Drea says. "It doesn't make sense. There's no window left open in 104.It's true," Amber says. "Campus police never closes it." "How do
you
know?"

"I used to date campus police, remember?"

"We don't have time for this," I say. "That's where she is. Let's go."

We leave the room a mess, boog it out the door, and make our way across the muddy soccer field in almost complete darkness. We don't speak to one another, so I have no idea what either of them are thinking. I only know that in my heart there's a sense of dread, and in my belly, the urge to be sick.

Room 104 of the O'Brian Building is just in front of us, the window open a crack, just as Chad's e-mail and Amber said.

"Why didn't we bring a flashlight?" Drea asks.

"I have one." Amber pulls a mini-flashlight from her backpack. She hands it to me. "I never leave home without it."

I aim the light into the classroom, but from what I can see--chalkboards, rows of desks, books under the seats nothing looks out of the ordinary. "We're gonna have to go in," I say.

"I refuse to go in there," Drea says.

"Why?" Amber asks.

-Why?
Are you
crazy?
How do I know this isn't some trick? How do I know you guys aren't part of it?"

"What are you talking about?" I ask.

She shakes her head and her mouth tenses into a tight little slit.

"Drea," I say, "you have to come. We're not about to leave you out here alone."

She just keeps shaking her head, sucking in and letting out these enormous breaths, not looking at either of us. "Drea?"

She blinks hard a few times, as if she can't focus. Her breath quickens, becomes more urgent.

She grabs around

her throat and starts to hyperventilate. "I can't breathe," she puffs out. Her body begins to waver back and forth. Her feet stumble. "I can't--" But before I have the chance to try and hold her up, she folds to the ground like an old cardboard box.

I squat down by her side. 'Amber, do you have your cell phone?" I pull at the backpack resting by Amber's ankles, but Amber snatches it back. "Amber, we need to call campus police."

"We're not supposed to be out here. She'll be okay. She's done this before. Just give her a minute." Amber kneels down and places her hand on Drea's forehead, as though checking her temperature.

'Amber, she doesn't have a fever, give me your phone.
Now!"

Amber finally gives in and tosses it to me. I try to dial, but nothing happens. I look at the phone screen. "No charge. You need to go for help. I'll stay here.-

Amber looks at Drea, gasping for breath; her lips, dry and chalky; her eyes, fluttering closed. She gets up and runs toward the campus road.

I prop Drea's head up on my lap, wondering if I should try CPR. "Help is on the way, Drea. Just hold on."

Drea tries to puff out a few words, but they aren't clear.

"Shh... don't try to talk." I wipe the droplets of sweat from her forehead and notice she's cold and shaking as well. I look back up in the direction of the road. Donovan is running toward me.

Amber follows close behind, and then Chad.

"What happened?" Donovan drops a spiral sketchbook to the ground, peels off his jacket, and tucks it under Drea's head.

'Amber, didn't you find campus police?"

"I found Donovan first."

"What happened?" Donovan repeats.

"I don't know. She just started hyperventilating."

"I'll go get some help." Chad turns back toward the road.

Donovan's face is sweaty and urgent. He loosens Drea's blouse at the neck and places his hand over her heart. "Come on, Drea," he says. "Try to control your breathing. Don't panic. Breathe in and then blow out."

I can tell Drea is listening to him, relying on the confidence in his voice to help steady her.

"You're still taking too much air into your lungs." Donovan reaches down to hold her sweaty palm. "Try to think about breathing through your chest, in and out. Don't panic. As long as you're breathing, you'll be okay."

It takes Donovan several minutes to calm Drea's breathing. He whips off his sweater, leaving only a thin T-shirt, and covers her with it. "It's okay" he whispers, stroking her hair back. "You're gonna be okay. Just don't try to talk."

"The ambulance is on its way." Chad jogs toward us with a campus police officer.

"She's doing much better." Donovan reaches one arm under Drea's neck and the other at the curve of her back to help her sit up. "She had a panic attack. I used to get them too."

"She's lucky you were here to help," the officer says. "What were you doing out here, anyway?" I ask.

"I was just sketching." Donovan looks up toward the sky. "When was the last time you saw a sky like tonight?"

I look up, noticing the star formation, the way the waxing moon, still days from first quarter, looks against the inky black sky.

"The best view is from the quad benches, looking north," Donovan continues. "No buildings in the way" He turns to Chad. "Where did you come from?"

"I was just walking across campus. I saw you guys running, and thought maybe something was wrong."

"Normally you'd all get written up for being out after curfew," the officer says. "But all considered, I think we can let a hero and his friends slide."

I'm not even sure Donovan hears him. He's completely soaking on Drea, making sure she's breathing at a normal rate, that her hair is pushed back off her face and her hands aren't dirty from the ground.

"The ambulance is here," I say.

"You'll be all right, Drea." Donovan smiles and rubs her back.

"Don't go, Donovan... please." She clasps her hands around his arm, like this is port and he's staying while she's going off to sea. A couple EMTs approach her with a stretcher, but she refuses to look at them until Donovan promises to stay with her.

And suddenly I don't know whether this is reality anymore or if I've been sucked into an episode of
The Young and the Breathless.

The EMTs make everyone clear the way. Donovan steps back but keeps hold of Drea's hand as she's lifted onto the stretcher.

"I think we should go in the ambulance too," Amber says.

I walk with her toward it, as if I'm going to join them, all the while keeping an eye on the officer as he steps inside his cruiser. "No," I whisper. "You go. One of us should be with her. I need to stay here and check things out."

'Are you
crazy?"
Amber whispers. "Not alone."

I glance at Chad, standing at the back of the ambulance, seeing Drea inside. "I'm not alone."

Amber looks at him. 'Are you sure?"

I nod, unsure. "You better go."

Amber lingers a moment more before climbing inside to join Drea and Donovan.

I watch them all go. All except Chad, now standing by my side.

tw-citr-s-e_vcr)

It's after the ambulance has sped away that I notice Amber left her teddy-bear backpack behind. I pick it up, along with the uncharged cell phone and Donovan's sketchbook, and stuff both inside the bear's belly, already full with Amber's snack machine treats.

"Why didn't you go with Drea?" Chad asks.

"Why didn't you?" I answer. "It's practically midnight, what are you even doing here?"

"I was looking for you. I went to your room. I went to the Hangman. The library--"

"Those things close at eleven."

"Yeah, but I thought maybe you guys were taking your time walking back. What's the big deal?"

I study his face for a prolonged second, trying to decipher the truth, wondering if I should mention his e-mail to Veronica the whole reason why we're here. "Forget it," I say, finally. I pick up Amber's flashlight and head toward the window.

"What are you doing?"

"You're a smart guy;
you
figure it out." I edge the window open wide enough, hoist myself up on the ledge, belly-first, and crawl my way through the window and onto the classroom floor, my feet landing with a thud.

Chad follows.

I walk past a row of desks, using the flashlight to guide my way. I shine it around the room, in all corners, on the quest for anything that appears unclassroomlike. But, aside from the lack of lighting and the obvious vacancy of the place, it's just like any other classroom I've ever sat in--

needlessly oppressive and completely stagnant.

"What are we doing?" Chad whispers.

I shush him with a finger and approach the front of the room. Sprawled across the chalkboard are the notes from the day's trig lesson, something about the 1 of m, and someone's left their biology books in the basket under the chair. My flashlight beam passes over the light switch by the door.

But I don't want to flip it on, just in case campus police are still lurking.

I move over to the door and wrap my hand around the knob, feeling a cold rush of blood run from my face. I whip the door open, causing it to crash against the wall and the trash can to topple onto the floor. My heart makes a bungee-cord jump into my belly and then up to my throat before snapping back into place.

Chad picks the trash can up and looks at me his face blurred by the darkness. Are you okay?" He places his hand at my forearm. That's when reality really hits, reminding me where I am and what I'm doing. I pull my arm away and step out onto the green and white checkerboard floor, heading in the direction of Madame Lenore's French room.

The flashlight beam paves about a three-yard distance in front of me. The rest is black. I shout Veronica's name a couple times, my voice echoing off the walls. I actually want her to be here--

to be waiting for me, to be playing some trick, it doesn't really matter because right now, even with Chad, I feel completely alone.

I focus on the red exit sign at the end of the hall, just to the left of the French room. The idea of it, of booting it out of here, keeps me moving forward, further down the hallway, further away from Chad, if he's still following behind me.

When the beam of the flashlight is close enough to illuminate the exit door, I stop, my eyes lodged on the handles. It can't be true. It can't be real. But it is. I blink at least a dozen times, but it still is. A thick metal chain is threaded through and around both handles. If I want to get out, I'll have to backtrack.

I stand there a moment, trying to decide whether or not this is really worth it. Maybe I should just forget it. Maybe I can tell Drea and Amber that I checked everything out, that Veronica was nowhere in sight, and just turn around and leave.

But it's too late for that.

I make my way past the Hillcrest trophy case, noticing for the first time that all the classroom doors have been closed.

All except for the French room.

"Veronica?" I call toward the open door, still not quite close enough to see inside.

I hold the flashlight with trembling hands as I stall, scanning over banners rooting for Hillcrest's Hornets, posters for class president, and dropped pencils.

"Stacey?" says a male voice. Chad's voice. I'm sure of it.

"Chad?" I turn around to find him, but the slender beam of the flashlight won't let me see far enough. "Where are you? I can't see you."

"I'm right here."

But with the echo in the hallway, I can't quite tell if his voice is coming from in front or behind me.

I wait several seconds for him to say something else. But when he doesn't, I keep moving closer toward the open French room, a spattering of tears rolling down my face before I even go in.

And when I do, I find her.

Veronica.

She's lying on the ground, a collection of textbooks surrounding her head, as well as Madame Lenore's clay

planter, still in one piece. There's a narrow stream of liquid running from her head, pooling itself into a pear-shaped puddle. I shake my head over and over again, swallowing the bile down, telling myself that the running liquid is just a water spill from the planter or a leak from the ceiling.

But I know it's really blood. That she's dead. Her moss- green eyes stare up at me, wide open and disappointed, asking me why I didn't get here sooner.

I glance up toward the window shade, slapping against the wooden ledge. The chilly November air filters into the classroom, plays with the wisps of cinnamon-brown hair at the base of her forehead, now stained bright Valentine red. I cover my face with my hands. That's when the darkness in the room folds in and swirls all around me. When my body hits the floor.

tw-cuty---66ht

The blare of the phone ringing startles me out of sleep. I spring up to a seated position. For a few confused moments, I think maybe last night was just a horrible nightmare. I look over at Drea's empty bed. My first thought is that she's in class, that I slept through the alarm clock and missed first period. But then it dawns on me that it's Saturday, four lilies later.

Drea's day to die.

"Hello?"

"Stacey, hi, it's me, Chad. How are you?"

"How do you think?"

"Well, how are you feeling, at least?"

"Like I told the police last night, I'm fine. It was more of a shock than anything else."

I close my eyes and try to paste the pieces of last night together in my mind. I remember passing out, being walked to a police car, and all the flashing lights. The smell of eucalyptus and lemon oils stuffed up my nose. Voices trying to talk to me, asking me if I was okay. "Yes, fine," I assured them.

"Do you want to call home?" they asked. "Do you need a doctor?"

"No. I just want to go back to the dorm and sleep."

I remember being hysterical--crying, then laughing, and crying again. How someone, a school nurse maybe, told the police I needed to get some rest. And then how the police said they were going to keep an eye on me and talk to me in the morning.
This
morning. Even though it's already after eleven.

But most of all, I remember Veronica, lying dead in the classroom, her haunting green eyes staring up at me, disappointed.

"They think I did it," Chad said. "They think I killed her."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I came into the classroom, I saw Veronica and I saw you, and I knew you had fainted. So I tried to help you, but then it occurred to me that maybe I should go to the window, you know, to see if I could see anything, catch whoever did it. And then the police came in and saw me and thought I was trying to escape. And then they saw you, just lying there.