“All right, then,” Nigel called down to them. “Up here and follow after me.”
Max swarmed up the stairs with the other boys. Miss Awolowo’s voice called after them.
“Good luck, Nigel! Good luck, boys! Meet back in the foyer at five for a quick tour before dinner. Listen for the chimes!”
Max hurried after Nigel, alongside dozens of other students.
“Okay, boys—keep up, keep up,” the Recruiter said. “North Wing’s for the gents here at Rowan; the ladies stay in the South Wing, so if you find yourself without a urinal in sight, you know you’re in the wrong place.”
The boys giggled as they climbed a spiral staircase whose creaky wooden banister had been worn to a smooth polish. Nigel’s voice echoed from above.
“As it happens, your class is on the third floor. Unlucky you. Third and Fourth Years will torment you from the second floor. Fifth and Sixth Years enjoy first-floor convenience and feel very much entitled to it.”
Max emerged from the stairwell into a long, broad hallway arched with heavy beams. It was lined on either side with dozens of gleaming green doors. Nigel led them toward the far end of the hallway. Straggling behind, Max noticed that each door had a large, ornate keyhole and a shiny silver numeral in its center. Next to each door was a towering plaque of polished black wood and brass, the first two dozen of which were engraved with names.
Reaching the end of the hall—where, Max noted, the plaques were blank—Nigel turned to the boys, who began to fidget.
“Let’s see…sixty-nine, seventy, and Omar there makes seventy-one. Excellent—didn’t lose anyone along the way! Hooray for me. Now, when I say the word, go hunt for your name on the plaques next to the doors. When you see your name, hold right there and do nothing else. Everyone understand?”
A stocky, handsome boy with chestnut hair and bright blue eyes raised his hand. His Irish accent was so thick that Max could hardly understand him.
“Our names are already on them?”
“What’s your name, O curious creature?”
“Connor Lynch.”
“No,” said Nigel, rubbing his hands together. “But they will be. That’s part of the fun. You don’t pick your roommates and neither do we; that’s the Manse’s job…. Everyone ready? Go find your room!”
To Max it seemed like a frantic Easter egg hunt as the other boys sprinted or bumped into one another to scour the nameplates up and down the hall.
“I’ve found mine!” called a short boy who looked like a mouse.
“Me too!” cried another, losing his retainer.
Max walked slowly down the hall as the other boys shouted in excitement and jumped about. Max wanted to be excited, too, but he felt queasy—the lurking presence within him was stirring once again. He stopped before Room 318 and stared at the plaque next to the door. As though scripted by an invisible hand, two names appeared where before there had been none. Max ran his fingers over his name, feeling the letters etched deep into the brass. A cough sounded behind him.
“My name’s there, too, isn’t it?”
Max turned at the voice, which sounded American. He looked down at a small boy with skin as pale as milk. The boy’s features were small and faint, except for purplish circles beneath his eyes. He looked unhealthy, like an underexposed photograph.
“Are you David Menlo?” asked Max.
The boy nodded and coughed again.
“I’m Max.”
Just then, Max heard Nigel’s voice rise above the din.
“Aha! Stop right there, Jesse Chu! Didn’t you hear me before? Do not do anything else until I instruct you to!”
A chunky Asian boy across the hall scowled and yanked his hand away from his doorknob as though it was hot. Nigel walked briskly toward him, wagging a finger. He stopped, however, as he saw Max and David standing by their door.
“Hey there—who are you two missing?”
Max glanced again at the plaque, realizing the other groups had four or even five boys in them.
“No one,” said Max. “Our names are the only ones.”
“Really?” said Nigel, giving a curious smile and leaning in for a closer look. “How very strange.”
He shook his head before cupping his hands to be heard throughout the long hallway.
“Now, when I instruct you to, I want you to open the doors and step inside your respective rooms. Once inside, you will lock the door behind you and shut your eyes. You will soon feel dizzy—it is to be expected. Keep your eyes shut until the feeling subsides entirely. To be safe, I recommend that you count to three once the dizziness stops before you have a look around. Everyone clear?”
Max nodded with the others, terrified.
“All right, gents. Please enter your rooms and let the configurations begin.”
Max looked at David, who inclined his head, suggesting Max should open the door. The two tentatively stepped into a small dark room with a plain stone floor and knotty wood walls.
“Are you ready?” Max whispered. “When I lock the door, shut your eyes. When the dizziness stops, let me know and we’ll both count to three. Okay?”
Taking quick, shallow breaths and trying to ignore the furious patter of his heart, Max locked the door and squeezed his eyes shut.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Slowly, however, his body felt as though it was accelerating to a tremendous speed while spinning like a top. The sensation intensified for what seemed to be a full minute, culminating in a gagging wave of nausea.
He was on the verge of being sick when the spinning stopped. His body felt almost weightless, as though drifting slowly back to the earth. Moments later, the feeling had subsided. He hissed at David.
“David? Has it stopped?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Okay. Count with me. One. Two. Three!”
Max opened his eyes and drew a sharp breath.
Instead of the small square room, they now stood on the top stair of a very large circular chamber with a glass-domed roof. Through the glass, Max gazed up at the moon and stars, but they appeared much larger than he had ever seen with his naked eye. They rotated slowly beyond the glass. Max gasped as faint gold threads materialized to outline a celestial centaur before silently fading. A moment later, a giant scorpion was highlighted from among the many stars twinkling above.
At the level of the door and top step was a broad, brass-railed balcony. It led in either direction to enormous, curtained sleigh beds of polished wood, positioned at opposite ends of the room.
Without a word, Max and David descended the steps to a sunken floor. At its center was a large octagonal table inlaid with designs of moons and stars, resting on a thick ivory-colored rug. Beneath each balcony were identical curved niches. Each niche had a cozy couch, tall bookcases, and a wardrobe, all lit from above by lights recessed into the surrounding golden wood. At the far end, a stone fireplace crackled with a small fire. With a shock of recognition, Max saw his duffel bag folded neatly by the wardrobe along with his drawing pads and pencils. The rest of his things were similarly arranged.
“What do you think?” David breathed beside him.
Max whirled and shook David by the shoulders.
“I think it’s amazing!”
With a series of triumphant whoops, the two raced up to the balcony and then ran in opposite directions to leap onto the sleigh beds. Max sprawled on a soft comforter stitched with golden suns before brushing aside the curtains. David was grinning from the opposite bed, kicking his feet against its navy curtain embroidered with silver moons.
There was a knock on the door.
“Hey there!” Nigel’s voice sounded a bit worried. “Max? David? Open up, boys, and let’s have a look. Boys?”
They galloped back along the balconies and swung open the door. Nigel stood outside with the Irish boy, Connor.
“Oh, thank goodness! Had me worried there that you’d gone and lost yourselves! Mind if I have a peek? I’m always curious how these configurations turn out—never seen two the same.”
As Nigel entered the room, he froze and scanned the threshold.
“No vomit. Well done, gentlemen! These are new loafers, after all!”