I closed the closet doors, grabbing my backpack on the way out.
One interesting fact I discovered about kookaburras, when they laugh, it means rain is coming.
***
Paris stood in the middle of the student union, talking to a guy with long hair, sandals, and a laugh that echoed through the room. I hung back, letting them have a minute.
The student union was three floors of restaurants, study rooms, club rooms, and meeting halls. During finals week, they stayed open late and served free meals to those still hanging around at one in the morning.
Ivy used to leave at midnight to join her friends here. They’d kick back, eating and studying, then crash in one of their dorms. She told me the best spot was on the second floor near the back staircase. There was a quiet nook up there next to the vending machine, and the stairs were closest to where they set up the food. First in line.
I had to send her a pic of me eating pizza in the nook, goofing that it’s my spot now. Despite us not talking much these days, she’d get a kick out of it.
Paris and the dude kissed, then he strode off. I moved up to take his place.
“Boyfriend?” I asked.
“Playmate,” she corrected. “I don’t really do boyfriends.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’d fall for one of them and then get it into my head that it won’t be so bad to settle down and pop out a bunch of babies in good ole Bedlam. That’s a fucking lie, so better not to give the idea a chance.”
“You might meet someone who wants to leave as much as you do.” We set off down a branching hallway, making for the heavenly smell wafting through the corridor.
“That’s not what anyone seems to do around here. My parents— I mean my mom and Jack, they used to travel all over the world, then they moved back here to have kids and just stopped. Mom hasn’t been farther than Hunter’s Crest since. Something about Bedlam,” she said softly. “It just keeps you. Doesn’t let anyone leave.”
I stumbled.
I get to keep you, Rainey. No matter what you decide, you’re mine forever.
I swallowed through needles, quickly righting myself. Of all the ways to phrase that, it had to be a sentence so close to the one that psycho sent me. And they were right.
This person, whoever they were, had infected me. Every person I passed on the street was looked at with suspicion. Everyone who said something too similar to the notes filled me with horrible visions of their bodies at my feet as their blood dripped from my fingers. What I would be after Ruckus Royale, I was afraid to consider. Only one thing was certain, no matter what I did, they would win in what I now knew was their true desire—to make me a killer.
But why me? Why did they choose some random girl living out on her farm who never hurt a living soul?
I never even raised my voice to our bobbleheaded chickens, forever wandering through the fence and getting themselves lost. No one could hate me as much as this person surely did. If anyone was wronged, it was me.
“Rainey?”
I slammed the door on those thoughts, smiling at Paris. “Sorry, what you said made me think of something. You’re right that most people tend to stay in Bedlam. Probably why my sister was determined to leave.”
“Where is she now?”
“Chicago.”
She groaned. “I’m jealous. You have to hook us up. I want to hear about every minute of every day she gets to be away from this place.”
The sign for Bagel Glory loomed ahead of us. The little café was a small, cozy corner of the union that opened out onto a terrace. Paris got a blueberry bagel and I tossed my cinnamon sugar on the pile.
I smiled at the girl counting out my change. “You have the prettiest blue eyes.”
“Oh, I—” She brightened. “Thank you.”
I accepted the money and followed Paris outside to a two-seater tucked under a shady spot.
“Why didn’t you go to college out of state?” I asked.
“My parents talked me out of it. Bedlam offered me a great scholarship. They said it was nuts to turn that down and then take out thousands of student loans to go out of state. Mom said when I started my new life outside of Bedlam, I’d want to do it debt-free.”
I inclined my head. “Sensible woman.”
“She is,” Paris said, even while rolling her eyes. “I couldn’t fault her logic, and I know she just wants what’s best for me. I’ve lived here for nineteen years. Two more won’t kill me.” She squeezed my hand. “But everything does work out for a reason, because we met.”
Paris was nice. A super sweet person introducing me to her friends and taking me out for bagels, though all we knew about each other was from being names in an online class. Why was she so nice? What did she want from me?