A Drop of Night(12)

What was that about? My heart is beating painfully inside my chest, a tiny mallet against bone.

“Anouk,” Miss Sei says. I turn. She’s waiting at the foot of the staircase, watching me. “Please stay with your colleagues.”

She starts up the stairs, six-inch heels going off like a pair of nail guns. I hurry to rejoin the others.

“Dinner will be served early tonight.” Miss Sei looks straight ahead as she talks, eyes fixed on a point in the middle distance. “Not all the staff has arrived yet. I’m sure you’ll forgive any lapses in hospitality. Please feel free to freshen up and rest in your rooms. Be ready to meet Professor Dorf in the entrance hall at five-thirty. That is all.”

Jules casts a halfhearted look back down the stairs toward the cars and the luggage. Lilly pats the strap of her backpack and smiles sweetly at him.

We arrive at the second-story hallway. Miss Sei opens a huge door. “Mr. Maiburgh, Mr. Park, Mr. Makra. This will be your room. Miss Peerenboom and Miss Watts, please follow me.”

She heads down the hallway again, and I catch a glimpse of her face, like a mask, tense and frozen. I should probably feel bad for her. Babysitting teenagers is a big step down from chief science officer of the Sapani Corporation. I would be seething, too.

She doesn’t say anything as she opens our door—-just stands next to it, watching us with those knife-sharp eyes. I slide past her into the room. Catch a whiff of something coming off her, bitter lemons and rosemary, like really strong soap. Under it is another smell, duller. Chemical.

As soon as the door closes and Miss Sei’s footsteps have retreated down the hallway, Lilly throws down her backpack. Lets out all her breath. Collapses on the bed like she just ran a marathon. “This is so weird. Did you see this place? It’s like Hogwarts. But bad.”

I stand stiffly, looking around me. The ceiling is high, fifteen feet at least. Dark green silk covers the walls. Tassels and silver brocade pillows drip off everything. It’s cold. I can hear the whisper of an air system, but all the heat must be rising to the ceiling, curling under the sumptuous plasterwork. I definitely can’t feel it down here.

Lilly laughs suddenly and rolls off the bed. “So what do you think of the boyyyys?” She crawls on hands and knees over to her backpack and starts digging around in it. “Hayden’s stuck up, but I think he’s just insecure. Like, he needs friendship.”

I don’t answer. Lilly pulls out a very large, clear plastic toiletry bag and resumes her crawl.

“I like Jules,” she says. “He’s hilarious.”

“Of course he’s hilarious, have you seen his face? It’s called overcompensating.”

Lilly stops crawling. Looks over her shoulder like I just ate a puppy. “That’s not cool, Anouk. It’s not.” She stands and walks the rest of the way to the bathroom, her face closed up like a box.

“What?” I say, spreading my arms in a Hey-don’t-shoot-the-messenger stance. “People who are considered less attractive by society have to find other ways to make themselves desirable. It’s science.”

“It’s mean.” She tugs open the bathroom door and disappears inside. I hear the rush of a faucet. When she speaks again her voice is flat, echoing through the door. “D’you know what was up with the bodyguards?”

Apparently she’s done discussing boys with me. Good.

“I was wondering the same thing,” I say. “They don’t want anyone to know what they found here—”

“But then why invite students?” Lilly appears at the door, rubbing something furiously into the ends of her hair.

I turn to the window. The light outside is lead gray and flat, like it’s already evening. The trees make a tight square around the property. Jules asked that exact same question. I brushed him off, but it’s a valid question. What are we doing here? Why Lilly? Why me? Why the others, all of us so completely different from each other? Blue folders in the mail, embossed letterheads, and thick stationery go a long way to making things seem sensible and official. And I really wanted this to happen, so I told myself it was sensible. Like people who believe in daily horoscopes or pass on chain mail. Like people who do non-sensible things.

Lilly goes back into the bathroom. Shouts: “This place is bare. There’s only one towel. Did you check for Wi-Fi?”

I study the massive four-poster. It’s as big as a whole room by itself, but there’s only one. I’ll be sleeping on the couch.

“If there is, I doubt they’ll let you use it,” I call back, and wander to the window, digging my phone from my pocket. At least ten Wi-Fi options line up on the screen. All locked.

I toss my phone onto one of the chairs. Lilly comes out of the bathroom holding a cup of amber liquid. She’s clutching it in both hands like it might escape.

“They have brandy,” she says, awestruck. “In the bathroom.”

“I thought you said it was bare.”

“Yeah, but brandy.”

She takes a sip, makes a face, and sets the cup down on a dresser. It’s going to leave a ring, but I don’t say anything. My head feels heavy. Lilly gets busy pulling chargers and cable tangles from her backpack. I crawl onto the bed. I don’t really plan on sleeping. I just lie there, staring up at the canopy. Drift in and out of consciousness. At some point I pull the covers up over my shoes and jeans. . . .