Part 46 (1/2)
All at once the world began s.h.i.+fting around me, jerking wildly, and I fell. In a dark corner I saw the figure of a woman, hunched and weeping, but she had no face, only a blank void where eyes and nose and mouth should be. She reached a hand for me in mute appeal, but her fingers were broken. The shaking grew worse, the world tumbling and turning around me, and I forgot I was being chased and he was there.
You've been difficult, you little s.l.u.t. Take off your dress and wake up.
Wake up.
”Wake up,” Jennifer snapped at me, not gently but not angrily, either.
My head came up from the pillow. I was covered head to toe in cold, acid sweat. The light outside was still bruised from dawn, and cut lines on the tile floor through the blinds. Jennifer quickly drew her hand back from my shoulder as I curled up in a ball, twisted up in my blankets, and lay there panting.
She crouched next to the bed.
”You started shouting in your sleep. I don't understand what you were saying.”
”Oh. Sorry. I had a bad dream.”
She gave me a cryptic nod. ”Can you stay in the bed for a second?”
I nodded, and she gracefully slipped back up into the top bunk. I heard her s.h.i.+ft around, the bed jerked, and she came down in a crouch, dressed in sweatclothes, and slipped on a pair of running shoes.
No one I've ever met exercised as much as she did. She was either studying, sleeping, or running or, later, riding a bicycle. She seemed to live on granola bars and cold oatmeal.
While Jennifer was out running, I went to the showers for the first time. It made me nervous, but there was plenty of privacy, a big curtain for each stall and room to change in front of the shower itself.
After that I didn't know what to do with myself, so I took my schedule and went to the book store. I came back with two armloads of plastic bags, the handles cutting into my fingers, and neatly stacked the books on the little shelf on my desk. For the next hour or so, I started reading a microeconomics textbook, tapping my foot on the tiles. There was a tap at my window, a soft sound on the gla.s.s, then another, and another. I looked over and saw Victor peering through the gla.s.s at me, grinning.
My room was on the second floor.
I threw up the sash.
”What are you doing?”
”Let me in.”
I fumbled with the screen, lifted it up. The windows were very large. I jumped out of the way as Victor clambered inside. He was barefoot, his shoes hanging from his belt, tied by their laces. He wiped sweat off his forehead with his hand, then scooped me up in his arms. He literally lifted me off the floor as he pulled me against him, and kissed me. This time I touched him back, putting my hands on his sides, just above his hips. The muscles bunched and tightened under his skin as he moved. The kiss was like a mouthful of warm honey, and left me breathless and shaking. He put his arms around me.
”What are you up to?”
”Reading,” I said, glancing at the book.
”What is that?”
”Principles of Microeconomics, Third Edition.”
”You're reading a textbook?”
”What?”
He grinned at me. ”I didn't think you were that boring.”
”I'm not boring.” I sighed. ”The book is boring.”
”You'll have time to read that later. Come with me.”
”Where?”
”Anywhere but here.”
Jennifer picked that moment to come back. She walked in, gathered up her robe and toiletry bag, and left, all while scowling at Victor.
”I think she's starting to like me.”
”I don't think she likes you at all.”
He sighed. ”One day you will understand this. We earth humans call it 'humor'.”
”Oh. You were being sarcastic.”
”Yeah. She has a key, right? Come on.”
I locked up and followed him outside. He parked in the overflow, tucking the Firebird into a corner s.p.a.ce so the car in the next spot over was far enough away to swing the wide door open. As always, he opened mine first before getting in himself. I unlocked his door for him.
”So where are we going?”
”You have anything in mind?”
”Not really,” I said. ”I don't know what to do if I'm not studying.”
”You know, they have a drive-in down here.”
”A drive-in theater? It's what, ten in the morning? It won't be dark for hours.”
”Hours and hours,” said Victor. ”We'll just have to find something to do until then. I have an idea. Have you ever been to the beach?”
”No.”
”Let's go. It's only about an hour drive. If you obey all traffic control devices and posted speed limits.”
The way he said it strongly implied he didn't plan on it.
”Okay.”
I've never seen any of this before. I stared out the windows as he drove. The whole place was so flat. I could see for miles and miles, the distance obscured only by trees here and there, or buildings. It wasn't like home, where the rode rose and fell. I expected the ocean to be something like the river. Living in Philadelphia, my idea of the coastline was the Delaware river. A few times I glanced over at the instrument cl.u.s.ter, and felt my stomach drop when I realized we were topping ninety miles an hour. Except for a few gentle curves, the road was mostly straight. Victor slowed dramatically when a sign appeared warning of the end of the expressway, and the traffic grew heavier. He turned off past a car dealers.h.i.+p, and the car rumbled over an iron bridge over a narrow ca.n.a.l.
”You've seriously never been here?”
I shook my head.
”No trips to Jersey, either? No Cape May, no Atlantic City?”