“Oh, yeah,” Duffy says. “And there was that cafeteria thing last year. That couple from town broke in and took all that meat.”

  “They were hungry, Duffy,” Emily says. “They had children and needed food. Do you know what it’s like to be hungry?”

  “I’m not saying anything negative,” Duffy says. “I just don’t like stealing.”

  “And a few years ago, somebody broke into the Robert Frost house in New England and trashed the place,” Emily says. “That’s disgusting too. This is all disgusting.”

  “There’s a lack of respect,” the captain says. “It’s pervasive. But doesn’t anyone inspect here?”

  “The dorms get inspected,” I say. “The fire marshal from Bluefield comes every year and checks them out with the chief. But nobody lives here. It’s not really used for classes or anything. . . .”

  “It’s still a fire hazard,” the captain says.

  “Inspectors can be bought off,” Natalia says. “It’s a small town. Who knows what goes down? I mean, the college covers up a lot of unpleasant events they don’t want getting out. My freshman year, a girl in my dorm died from alcohol poisoning.”

  “Who?” Sydney asks.

  “Katie Gunn.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Sydney says. “But I thought . . .”

  “They said she died of natural causes,” Natalia says. “They said she had undiagnosed seizures no one knew about. But she drank a fifth of Wild Turkey the night she died. And vomited all over her room while she slept. I knew her roommate. They covered it up because it looks bad. It doesn’t fit the whole Hyde College image.”

  “What happened to Katie was a tragedy,” I say. “The college doesn’t like to cause panic. But we have our own issues to deal with right now.”

  “Are you going to smash the window, then?” Sydney asks. “I’m all for that.”

  “We can do that when—”

  “Sir?”

  “—we have to—”

  “Sir? I think you—”

  “Oh, shit,” Sydney says. “Emily?”

  I turn.

  Emily stands, both hands pressed against her stomach. She’s white as milk. Wobbly.

  “Emily?” I say.

  “Fuck me,” she says. “I feel sick. So fucking sick . . .”

  43

  EMILY’S BODY FOLDS IN half. Her cheeks puff, and her eyes squeeze shut.

  We all rush toward her.

  No no no no no.

  “Fuck, she’s dying,” Sydney says.

  “Emily.” I place my hand on her back, try to think of something that might help. “Emily?”

  “I’m sick. So fucking sick . . .” She drops back into the chair. “Ooooof . . .”

  “Get her some water,” the captain says. “Give her air.”

  I step back along with everyone else. Natalia leaves the room, heading toward the kitchen.

  “Emily? Do you want to lie down?” I ask.

  Duffy comes over with a trash can and places it on the floor in front of Emily. “You can puke in there. It might be better if you puke. You know, get the poison out. Stick your fingers down your throat if you have to.”

  “She might not be poisoned.”

  “She ate the food, Captain,” I say. “All of us in here did.”

  “Where did Natalia go?” Sydney asks. “She’s not here.”

  Natalia comes back in, holding a glass of water. “I’m trying to help, Sydney. Chill, for God’s sake.”

  “Well . . .” Sydney lifts her arms in a hopeless gesture. “Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”

  I take the glass from Natalia and offer it to Emily. “Would you like to sip this?”

  “I might . . . if I do . . .” Her eyes remain squeezed shut. “I might puke.”

  I hand the glass back to Natalia. “Would you like to lie down, Emily?”

  “There’s that couch in the other room,” Duffy says. “The one Milo is on.”

  “You want to move Milo’s body so Emily can lie down?” Natalia asks.

  “Yes, I would,” Duffy says. “Life is for the living.”

  “I don’t want to move,” she says. “It hurts. It hurts so bad.”

  “This is it, sir. Proof the food is poisoned too. Milo and Mr. Hyde didn’t eat it, but Emily did.”

  “We’re all fucked,” Sydney says.

  “But you only ate the sides, right, Emily?” I ask. “You’re a vegetarian.”

  She rocks back and forth, midsection clutched. “Well . . . I did eat a little rabbit. That god-awful rabbit . . .”

  “How much of it did you eat?” the captain asks.

  “A few bites. Just a few.”

  “Could be a smaller dose, sir. Less of an effect than on the ones who died.”

  “But they didn’t eat,” Duffy says. “She did.”

  “But what about us?” Sydney asks. “We all ate it, so we’re fucked. I think I feel sick now.”

  “Sydney?” Duffy asks, stepping toward her.

  “I just . . .” She fans her face with her hand. “It’s the stress . . . the craziness here maybe. . . .”

  “Okay, go check the other windows,” I say. “Now. Duffy and Sydney. Just go.”

  They move, but Natalia’s voice stops them. “Wait.”

  “What?” Duffy asks.

  “Sydney, do you want me to go with you?”

  “What?” Sydney asks. “No. I’m okay. I don’t think I’m really sick. . . . I’m just . . . scared.”

  “I know. Do you want me to come along?” Natalia asks again.

  “We’ve got it,” Duffy says. “I’ll keep an eye on Sydney. You help Emily.”

  They leave the room, Duffy leading the way. I bend back down. “Emily?”

  “It still hurts. . . .” Her breath comes in short huffs and puffs. Like she just ran a marathon. “It’s a steady pain. . . .”

  “Okay, okay,” I say. “Try to take some deep breaths. We’re here for you, okay? We’re with you. We’ll get out one of these windows.”

  “Mr. Gaines?”

  “What, Natalia?”

  “Can I tell you something?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Well,” she says. “It’s . . . Okay, I’ll just say it. And it’s about Sydney and Duffy, okay?”

  44

  “WHAT IS IT, NATALIA?” I ask. “Are you sick?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” Natalia looks toward the door of the dining room, making sure no one is there. Then she looks at the still-doubled-over Emily. “Do you mind if I tell him, Emily?”

  “Oh,” Emily says, more of a word than a grunt of pain. “You’re getting into that?”

  “I think it’s time,” Natalia says. “I mean, what about Sydney? He’s clearly into her.”

  “What are you two talking about?” the captain asks.

  “Yes, what?” I ask.

  “Go ahead,” Emily says. “I think . . . maybe I’m . . . I don’t want to talk. . . .”

  “Sure,” the captain says. “Keep breathing deep. We’re with you.”

  “Okay, okay.” Natalia looks at all of us. “So here goes. Let me know if I get anything wrong, Emily.”

  “I’m trying not to vom right now, but I’m listening. . . .”

  “Okay, Mr. Gaines, so I guess freshman year Duffy was crushing on a girl who lived in Emily’s dorm. Right? Her name was Sarah Drury. And they talked and hung out and all that, but then Sarah was kind of not interested in Duffy anymore. He wasn’t her type, and she met another guy. And they started dating.”

  “Not Milo,” the captain says.

  “No,” Emily says, wincing. “This isn’t a Jane Austen novel.”

  “Okay,” Natalia says. “But Duffy kept coming around . . . you know, showing up at her room. Showing up at parties and stuff wherever she went. Even, like, standing out in the hallway when her classes were over. Totally creepy.”

  “Lots of students show up at the same parties. And outside classrooms. It’s a small campus,” I say.

  “Yeah, but these would be parties where he didn’t know anyone, where he wasn’t supposed to be. He was really freaking this girl out.”

  “It’s true, Mr. Gaines,” Emily says, gasping. “I was there for this. I knew Sarah.”

  “Well, you can tell he’s into Sydney, and Sydney was hooking up with Milo. And now . . .” Natalia gestures toward the front of the house, where Milo lies. “And then Mr. Hyde said that about Sydney during tea, and he’s . . . you know, gone. Do you see what I’m saying? Duffy’s very . . . You know, he’s hovering over Sydney. And now he’s off with her.”

  “He did get very angry when that brick hit the tire of his truck,” the captain says.

  “Did you see what he looked like when Mr. Hyde was being all flirty with Sydney?” Emily says, her voice a little stronger. “Duffy looked like he wanted to kill him.”

  “Okay,” I say, “I don’t like these accusations.”

  But Duffy said he hated the Hyde family. And he sounded like he really meant it.

  “Will you just go check on them?” Natalia asks. “Or I’ll go do it if nobody else will.”

  I look at the dining room door. All of Duffy’s jokes and aw-shucks charm start to feel . . . discordant. Off. Misplaced.

  “Emily, are you feeling any better?”

  “I’m not any worse.” She sniffles. “I’m still alive.”

  “Captain, can you keep an eye on her? And if anything happens, can you call me right away?”

  “I will, sir.”

  “Okay, I’ll go see what’s going on with Duffy and Sydney.”

  My body feels light, empty, as I walk to the hallway, almost like I’m floating. Or disconnected from myself. Nothing feels real.

  I step into the hallway and listen. Voices reach me.

  “It’s the kitchen,” Natalia says from right behind me.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “I’m coming with you. There should be a woman along. So Sydney feels safe.”

  When we reach the entrance to the kitchen, we hear the conversation more clearly.

  “Not now, Duffy, okay?”

  “Just once . . .”

  “Duffy—”

  Sydney backs away from Duffy when they see us at the kitchen entrance. Her face flushes. “Oh,” Sydney says, “you’re here.”

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “Peachy,” Duffy says. “We were just— I mean, the window here. We were just about to check it. . . .”

  Sydney stands with her hands folded. She looks flustered.

  There’s one window in the kitchen, and it’s large. It sits above the sink and reveals trees and more trees. Looking out that window, I can see just how far away from any form of help we are.

  Duffy swings his body so he’s sitting on the counter.

  “Are you okay, Sydney?” Natalia asks. “Are you safe?”

  “I’m fine,” Sydney says, but she doesn’t sound entirely certain. “It’s okay. We were just . . . talking.”

  It doesn’t take Duffy long to check the window. “No soap, boss. Nailed shut.”

  “Figures,” I say.

  “Are you sure, Sydney?” Natalia asks.

  “She said she’s okay,” Duffy says. “Give it a rest.”

  “I’m talking to her, not you,” Natalia says.

  “And she says she’s fine. Are you trying to imply something about me, Natalia?”

  “I want to make sure Sydney feels safe,” she says. “Unlike Sarah Drury.”

  “Sydney can take care of herself.”

  “Can I just say something, then?” Sydney asks. “Since you’re both kind of talking about me as though I’m not here.”

  “I’m trying to help,” Natalia says. “Duffy has a reputation—”

  “Okay,” I say. “Sydney, what is it?”

  “Thank you,” she says. “I really don’t feel safe in here, but not because of Duffy. It’s starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me. I really need to get out.”

  “We’re going to figure that out,” I say. “I promise.”

  “I really want the scholarship. And I thought I might win it, even with Milo here. I’m a pretty good writer. Always have been. But I don’t think this is really worth it.”

  “We’re going to get out, Sydney,” Duffy says. “Mr. Gaines is right. And I’m going to be true to my word—if you want to leave, I’ll go with you. Okay?”

  Sydney looks unsettled. She takes a deep breath. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

  “Are you pissed about the sundown thing still?” he asks. “Look, my papaw was a pretty enlightened guy. He put a big Obama sign out on his property. Somebody came by and riddled it with shotgun pellets. It looked like Swiss cheese. But he did put it out and try.”

  “It’s not just the sundown thing,” Sydney says. “I knew Sarah Drury too. I don’t know everything that happened, but . . .”

  “Oh, great. You too.”

  “Did you two check the parlor?” I ask.

  “All the windows there are locked as well,” Sydney says. “And Mr. Hyde is still . . . you know . . . on the floor.”

  “Let’s look upstairs,” Natalia says. “Maybe Duffy can stay down here?”

  “I’ll go wherever I want—”

  “I was wondering something,” Sydney says. “Duffy, did your mom start to work for the Hyde Corporation when you had to sell the family farm?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said earlier your mom worked for a subsidiary of the Hyde Corporation. And that they were really hardcore. I guess I just assumed she went to work there when you had to sell the farm.”

  “Why do you think we had to sell the farm?” he asks.

  Sydney shrugs. “I’m from Illinois. A lot of people sold off their family farms. It was just too hard to make it.”

  “We didn’t sell it all, just a large chunk. We still have a tiny piece left.”

  “So . . . did you happen to sell it to the Hyde family?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

  He looks at Natalia and me like he’s forgotten we were in the room. “What? No, we didn’t. But they contributed to us having to sell it. They’re involved in a lot of stuff, own a lot of companies. As my papaw used to say, they have their fingers in a lot of pies. And one of them was poultry. They put up a poultry-processing plant in my hometown. Sounds good, right? I mean, they need feed for all those chickens. But they wouldn’t buy grain from any of the local farmers. We stopped raising cattle at some point and started trying to grow things. But they trucked it in from far away. They’d rather do that than buy from us to save a few pennies. It really hurt things with the farm. . . .”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My mom did go to work for them. In the poultry plant.”

  “That’s tough work,” Sydney says. “There’s one in the town where my aunt lives.”

  “It’s not tough work. It’s shit work. Bad ventilation. Low pay. That’s why they mostly hire . . . well, people who are . . .”

  Natalia sighs. “You can go ahead and say it. They hire people who look like me to do that work.”

  “That’s right,” Duffy says. “Sorry. They think they can get away with treating them any way they want. I don’t like the way those workers get treated.”

  “Most sane people don’t,” Natalia says.

  “My mom and some of the other women who worked there tried to get the workers organized. Band together for better pay and conditions. All that.” He reaches up, fiddles with the string tie around his neck. “The bigwigs at the plant got wind of it, and my mom and the other women got fired. Then the Hyde Corporation blackballed them around town. Said they were troublemakers, tried to keep them from being able to get other jobs.”

  “That’s terrible,” I say.

  “I was already in school here. But I wanted to quit and go home. I knew the same people who bankrolled this school made those decisions about my mom’s job. But she wanted me to stay and finish my education. Any way I could. So I did. Can’t argue with Mom. She has visions of me getting a degree and saving the farm. Not sure about that . . .”

  “Wow,” Sydney says.

  “We just don’t have the money, unless I win this. My mom . . . she hurt her back working in that plant. All they do is prescribe her pills. Lots and lots of pills. I’d like to get her to stop that, but I don’t know. And my dad, he took a job in Michigan, working in a plant up there. We don’t see him much. Not that we saw him much before he left.”

  “That’s shitty, Duffy,” Sydney says.

  Duffy cocks his head to the side, indicating the parlor. “People get what they deserve. The world works those things out, doesn’t it?”

  His words are cold, and I shiver.

  “Maybe we should check upstairs,” Natalia says. “Real quick.”

  “Did you check the door?” Sydney asks.

  “I did. Earlier. It’s locked.”

  “Not that one,” she says, pointing. “That one.”

  “That door? That goes down to the basement,” I say. “I guess more properly to the cellar. It has a dirt floor and a low ceiling. They stored vegetables and other food down there way back in the old days. I got a peek down there once. It was full of old junk. Boxes and crates. Old lawn equipment the college stored there. Mowers and rakes. They just threw anything there they didn’t know what to do with. Oh, and it’s full of spiders and mice. You can’t even walk around.”

  “Is there a way out down there?” Sydney asks, shivering.

  “There’s an exit into the yard through a set of bulkhead doors, but I assume they’re locked from the outside.”

  “You assume?”

  “They’d have to be if Chief was thorough. And he is.”

  “The chief has a key to everything, right?” Sydney asks.

  “Everything on campus.”