After Richard storms out, Haley realizes she might cry. Which she deserves. A big, fat crying jag, complete with tissues, choco-late, and crap television bingeing.
Because the day keeps getting worse. And it started out pretty badly.
This morning, responding to Jenny’s text, she’d arrived back at the room, winded, to a locked door. Jenny was tucked atop her bed, at the corner where the walls meet, knees drawn up to her chest.
“Where’s the fire?” Haley announced, only half joking, then dead--stopped when she saw Jenny’s agonized expression. “Oh no. What?”
“He’s stalking me!” Jenny said. Strangled voice. Like someone wrapped a hand around her throat.
“Who is? What happened?” Haley lowered herself on the bed beside Jenny.
“Jordan! Who else? He wrote on our whiteboard. While I left to get breakfast! He must have been watching, outside, waiting for me to leave the building!”
Haley rose, went to the door, and opened it. The whiteboard adhered to the outside was completely blank. Which was odd; it was usually peppered with messages she and Jenny didn’t bother erasing.
“There’s nothing here,” Haley said. She closed the door.
“I wiped it.”
“Why?” She couldn’t help the exasperation in her voice. Her mind had already made the immediate leap to evidence. Something to show when they reported this.
“I couldn’t leave it! It was awful!”
“What did it say?”
“‘Lying Bitch.’ Oh god. I am so freaked out. I just keep thinking of him outside the building, waiting!”
Haley sat beside her again. “How do you know it was him? Did you see him?”
“Who else would it be?”
“I know, but did you see him?” Haley repeated.
Jenny stared. “Why are you asking like that? Like you don’t believe me?”
“Of course I believe you! But how do you know it’s Jordan?”
“Who else would it be?” Jenny’s voice had grown shrill with repetition.
“Oh . . . I don’t know. Any of a dozen guys on Jordan’s witness list? At this point you know he’s told his friends what’s going on. Maybe one of them got mad?”
“But we’re not supposed to be talking about it! He’s not supposed to talk about it!” Her breath came in gasps. Her eyes were wide, wild.
“Jen.” Haley tried to counter the rising hysteria in her roommate’s voice by speaking calmly. “Talk is inevitable. People are going to ask him why they’re being called by an investigator. You should have heard Tamra this morning: a zillion questions. You said yourself things were going to start happening.”
“But not this! Not stalking! My father is right. They should have thrown him off campus.”
Haley took a deep breath. Glanced at her watch. Here’s what wasn’t happening: class. She couldn’t leave her like this.
“Okay. Let’s think. When I left for breakfast, you were still here.” Jenny nodded. “When did you leave?”
“Maybe ten minutes after you.”
“Did you notice the board on your way out?”
A thin line formed between Jenny’s eyebrows, as if she didn’t understand Haley’s question. “Notice the board?”
“Did you notice whether the words were written there when you were leaving for breakfast?”
Jenny blanched. “You mean, did he write them while I was inside the room?”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m wondering. Did you even notice?”
“I don’t know.” Jenny’s eyes filled. “I don’t remember looking at the board on my way out, so I don’t know. Maybe he did. Oh god. That’s really creepy. Him standing outside my door while I’m in here?” Jenny grabbed her pillow. Buried her face in it. Yelled into it. “I want this to be over!”
“I know, I know you do,” Haley said quietly. “Listen: that was a dumb question. I didn’t notice the board, either. I’ll bet he wasn’t outside the door while you were in here. You would have heard him, you know? We have a pretty squeaky pen. I always hear Madison writing stuff.”
Jenny lowered the pillow. Her eyes were red with tears, but she attempted to smile.
“Definitely squeakiest pen on the hall,” she agreed.
“So let’s not worry about when you noticed it. All that matters is that you saw it when you came back from breakfast. Now, here’s something: does Jordan usually wear a baseball cap?”
“How would I know that?”
“Did you notice a guy with a baseball cap on our hall, or just outside our building?”
“Half the guys on this campus wear baseball caps. Why?”
“Eric from downstairs says a guy with a cap was writing on our door this morning.”
“That was him.” Jenny said this definitively. No room for argument.
“Well . . . maybe,” Haley said. “Might have been someone else. This guy I know from math? He’s been trying to reach me.” Haley summoned a mental image of Richard’s hair. She’d spent a lot of time lately wondering if it was blond or brown. She couldn’t remember ever seeing it cap--covered.