Richard freezes.
Jordan and Exley, seated close together on the couch, looking at something on Exley’s phone. He’s got a PhD, Jordan said. People Hafta Drink.
They want to feel good, and that’s what the Doctor’s there for.
How could he have missed it?
As Richard quick--steps away from the booth, he texts Haley.
Where r u?
She replies immediately.
Library. Y?
Meet me at ur room now?
K. ??
see u there
The library is closer to Haley’s dorm than the union, so Richard fully expects her to beat him there. When he reaches her door, he knocks.
“It’s open,” he hears.
The shock Richard feels is reflected on Carrie’s face when he steps into the room. She’s sitting up, reading on the bed with the bare mattress. Haley is nowhere in sight.
“Well,” Carrie says once she recovers from her surprise. “If it isn’t loverboy.”
. . .
Joe flicks on the light. She’s not there.
He searches for the stench. Checks the sheets, the wastebasket. Inside the closet. Shoes.
He finds it in the recycle bin where Jasper stores his empties. It’s yellow--green, strewn with chunks. It coats the bottles, the bottom and sides of the bin. Joe gags.
He carries the thing out of his room, downstairs to the kitchen. His eyes dart the halls, scan the teeming dance room, but there’s no sign of her. In the kitchen, people move quickly out of his way when he heads for the industrial sink with the hose.
He breathes through his mouth, rinsing the gunk from the tub. As he aims the spray, he hears shouts, glass rattling.
“What’s that?” he asks.
“Bockus got locked out,” someone says.
Joe laughs, shaking his head. “What a tool.”
. . .
31
Haley
Haley hears raised voices in her supposedly empty room.
“Honestly, Richard. Do you expect me to believe that?” Carrie’s voice drips sarcasm as Haley pushes open her door.
I should do a better job remembering to lock. It was one of the few things that caused friction when she and Jenny were still living together: Haley liked windows open and doors unlocked; Jenny always closed and bolted.
Haley feels a stupid expression form on her face as she walks in on Carrie and Richard. Feels embarrassed, as if she’s interrupting. As if this isn’t her room.
They seem like a couple to Haley, even though she knows they’re not.
“Hey,” Richard says. He looks upset.
Carrie looks pissed.
Haley drops her pack. “Okay. This is awkward.”
Carrie, who half reclines on Jen’s bare bed, swings her legs over the side and sits up.
“She was in here when I got here,” and “The room was unlocked,” they say simultaneously.
“Would you like me to step out? It’s no problem,” Haley offers, moving toward the door.
“No!” they both exclaim.
Richard, who has been leaning against one of the desks, passes a hand tiredly over his face. He pulls out the desk chair and sits. “You’re the last one who should go.”
“You’re the first,” Carrie mutters.
“Actually, I think maybe it should be you, Carrie,” Haley says sharply.
Richard and Carrie look surprised.
Haley’s surprised, too. But she’s sick of these women picking on Richard.
They’d been piling on the night before. She’d stopped by Out House to visit Jenny, and they were all there: Mona, Carrie, and Gail. They were “discussing” the speaker the college had just scheduled for a campus event, a guy named Matt Trainor who did assemblies on sexual consent.
Carrie wasn’t pleased. Since The Board thing happened, she’d been pushing for a whole day of canceled classes, replaced by workshops focused on rape prevention. Like the old--fashioned teach--ins of the ’60s, she said. Matt Trainor fell way short of her expectations.
“The guy’s an entertainer,” she’d insisted. She had Jenny’s bare foot in her lap and was painting her toenails as she spoke. Jenny flashed Haley a contented smile when she walked in. She held a large brown mug in both hands and wore a bright, dragon--pattern kimono Haley didn’t recognize. “His videos remind me of the hypnotist that visited campus a couple years back.”
“Oh, I remember him! That guy was a riot,” Mona said.
Carrie glared at her.
“First,” Gail parried, “we need an entertainer. Think Mary Poppins: a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”
“These are adults. Not children,” Carrie growled.
“This is a poorly evolved mob,” Gail replied. “You start scolding them, they’ll throw rocks. Second, he delivers the message we’re after. We need to think beyond bystander intervention at parties or victim support the day after. We need to change the culture of sexuality on our campus. That begins with conversation. Trainor’s program gets people talking.”
“He turns serious issues into jokes,” Carrie said.
“Laughter heals,” Gail insisted.
“He reminds me of Richard,” Carrie said. “Took nothing seriously.”
“Who’s Richard?” Jenny asked.
“This guy I used to hook up with,” Carrie said.