Asylum (Asylum, #1)(11)
Dan thought of his own night and the sleep he definitely hadn’t gotten. He seemed to be the only one whom the basement had really affected. He was also the only one who had dug deeper into the asylum’s history. He didn’t want Abby and Jordan to think he’d gone all obsessive, and was glad he hadn’t said anything to Abby. It was time to change the subject before he said something he’d regret later. “So, Jordan, Abby and I were just talking about what classes we want to take.”
“Okay . . . ?”
“Well, we were just thinking of some we might take together. You interested?”
“Sure,” Jordan said, although he took out his phone and began texting at light speed with only his thumb, turning away slightly to shield the screen from them. Dan didn’t give it a second thought; who Jordan texted was his own business.
Talk of courses carried them the remaining distance to registration. Dan’s mood lifted with every step. Abby and he agreed on two classes together, but while Abby and Jordan were taking Life Drawing, Dan would be in History of Psychiatry. He probably knew a lot of the subject matter already, but he knew classes at NHCP were designed to push even the smartest kids.
Posted on a wooden pillar off to the side of the admin building were flyers for a harp concert, an L.A.R.P. demonstration, and a casual bocce ball match. The morning mist had yet to burn off, and the students milling around looked almost like ghosts in a dream. A good dream.
“Can you imagine doing this every day?” Dan said.
“Picking classes? No, it’s exhausting.” Abby slipped her course catalog back into her patchwork messenger bag.
“No, I mean this. Walking around campus on a nice day with kids who actually want to be here, going to classes you actually want to take.”
“Amen,” said Jordan.
“Amen too,” said Abby, and she linked arms with Jordan and Dan.
Dan was content with himself for once. He had two new friends and classes he was actually excited to attend. One day in, the summer was looking up.
After registration, the students were split into a few smaller, more manageable groups and funneled into rooms off the main floor of Wilfurd Commons. The director of the program was there to help guide the flow of traffic, waving and joking with a few of the professors who idled out in the hall. Inside their designated room, the friends were greeted by a professor and a red-headed guy who was handing out information on the various services available to them, emergency numbers, and maps of campus. The guy seemed to recognize Jordan, greeting him with a friendly “What’s up” before moving on to the next kid in line.
“Haven’t we heard all this a thousand times already?” Jordan groused as they took their seats. A dozen or so rows of chairs had been set up in front of a pull-down screen. They sat at the end of the third row, backpacks tucked under their feet. “I mean, I know I read this somewhere already. The pamphlets, the website . . .”
“Some of these kids have never been away from home before,” Dan replied. Abby sat between him and Jordan, perusing a neon-green handout.
“Have you?” Abby asked. It was a friendly, conversational question, but Dan froze, not sure how to answer. He didn’t like to talk about the foster homes he’d been in before lucking out with Paul and Sandy.
He was glad when the professor motioned for everyone to be quiet, waiting by the projector until the students had stopped talking.
“That’s Joe,” Jordan said, nodding toward the stocky, red-headed student. “He’s a hall monitor on my floor.”
“Kinda cute.”
“A hall monitor? No way, Abs, that’s forbidden fruit. Ha ha, fruit, get it?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Abby muttered, rolling her eyes.
“Ahhh, I crack me up,” Jordan added, wiping away a nonexistent tear.
“That makes one of us.”
The dark-haired girl sitting ahead of them turned and glared, silencing Abby and Jordan with a look. Behind her back, Jordan stuck out his tongue as the professor finally started talking.
“This is Joe McMullan, and I’m Professor Reyes. I know you’re all probably very bored with orientation stuff, but this will be quick and painless, I promise.”
Her name sounded familiar. Dan reached quietly into his pocket and pulled out his schedule. Scanning the list, he found that she was his History of Psychiatry professor. He tucked the schedule away, fixing his attention to the front of the room again. She was shorter than Joe by at least a head, and looked approachable enough, with ruddy cheeks and a gap in her teeth. She wore all black accented by a chunky necklace of turquoise stones.
“First, a few words on dorm safety . . .”
Dan let his eyes wander around the room. A few seats down he saw Felix sitting bolt upright in his chair. He sighed, thinking he really ought to include his roommate more, and maybe see if an hour or two kicking back as a group would bring Felix out of his shell. But he genuinely liked what he had going with Abby and Jordan, and if Felix made things weird, Dan would be blamed for forcing him into the dynamic.
“Brookline has a rich and complex past,” Professor Reyes was saying. “So if you have any questions, ask anytime! History is nothing to be afraid of.”
It was wrong, all wrong. Dan was in the wrong place. There must have been some mistake. He didn’t deserve to be here. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t. So why was he chained to the wall? He struggled until there was blood on his wrists from where the shackles held him.