Suspicious Minds (Stranger Things Novels #1)(8)

He stilled, giving her that long considering look again.

She went on, encouraged by not being kicked out yet.

Terry stood up so they’d be face-to-face, not him looming above her. “I volunteered to take Stacey’s place, because I…could sense this is important. It’s too weird otherwise. Labs don’t call college-age women in to give them drugs. Not just for that, at least.”

“What is it you think this is, then?” Dr. Brenner asked.

Terry shrugged. “I read the release forms. All I can tell is that whatever this is, it’s something…big. I want to be a part of it.”

“Hm.” The grunt hit a skeptical note.

“What do I need to qualify?” she asked. “Tell me.”

“Are you single?”

Andrew’s face flashed in her head. “I’m unmarried.”

“Healthy?” he asked.

“I’ve never missed a single shift at the diner where I work.”

He nodded, approving. “Have you ever had sexual intercourse?”

She went stiff. This wasn’t the kind of conversation women had with unfamiliar men. Unfamiliar government doctors seemed even less appropriate.

“I’m afraid I need candor from our participants,” he said with a tone of apology.

“Yes.” Terry didn’t elaborate.

Another nod. “And have you ever given birth?”

“No,” she said.

“Are you strong-willed?”

Terry considered. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“I suspect you do meet the basic criteria. But…” He paused, studying her.

He didn’t seem sold, not yet.

She searched her memory for what Alice had said about that advertisement in the paper. She didn’t think he’d be interested in the qualities she might list in her outstanding abilities column: able to serve six to eight tables without forgetting anyone’s order (harder than it sounded), never mixing up caf and decaf, doing homework at the last minute and still getting decent grades, making Andrew laugh when he didn’t want to, occasionally cheering up Becky…

“And I am remarkable,” she said.

“Fine,” he said, as if a scale had tipped. Or maybe he was humoring her. “I suppose you are. Now sit down.”

Terry hated being told what to do, but again, she sat.





3.


Andrew was parked behind the vans outside the psych building in his emerald green Plymouth Barracuda fastback, which he lovingly washed and detailed at least once a week. He’d insisted that Terry might need a ride if Stacey’s experience was any indication. The day had stretched out longer than she’d expected. He must have been waiting awhile.

She waved at Andrew as she trotted across the grass, and tried to decide how much of what had happened inside she planned to tell him. He was skeptical about the wisdom of her coming here. Though he was nice about it.

She climbed into the car. “I’m starving,” she said, stalling. “You want to go somewhere for a bite? My treat.”

“I take it you got paid the fifteen dollars,” Andrew said, looking her over like he was making sure she was in one piece. “Sure, wherever you want to go.”

“Let’s go the Starlight,” Terry suggested. It was Friday night and she didn’t have to work until 9:00 a.m. the next day. Summer heat made the evening feel like a warm oven. In other words: the perfect drive-in weather. The movies wouldn’t start for a couple of hours, but they could get a prime spot and the little café would be open already. “You wanted to see The Wild Bunch. I think it’s still playing.”

“Your wish…” He put the car in gear, steered them out through the mostly deserted campus. “I was about to storm the building to see if they’d kidnapped you. How was it? Were you right or wrong?”

“Right, I think.” Terry gathered her hands in her lap.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

To her relief, he didn’t question it. “What happened?”

“So far the doctor just asked me lots of questions. But he agreed to let me stay in.”

“No mysterious injections,” Andrew said, glancing over.

“No mysterious injections,” she echoed. It was true. “But I think it was a different guy. Next time, who knows? It…It did feel like something that matters.”

The radio announcer gave the latest Vietnam death toll, reporting on a battle. Andrew reached over and turned up the radio. “Another buddy of Dave’s from high school died over there.”

They all knew people who’d died over there. Terry could see their faces easily; she always pictured the boys who’d been killed as their high school yearbook photos. Smiling out, black-and-white, trapped.

Andrew was on a student deferment, but she knew he felt nervous about graduating the next spring. The only talk they’d had about it indicated he would enroll in grad school, and stay in school perpetually as long as he needed to.

“It’s so awful,” Terry said, loathing the understatement. Some things were terrible enough that trying to describe them in words never seemed to work.

Andrew nodded and kept listening to the news.

Terry thought about her final moments with Dr. Brenner. She had convinced him at last, in some way she didn’t fully understand, to classify her as a “high potential.” The rest of the sessions would take place off-campus in a dedicated government lab. He’d conceded it was important research, on the cutting edge. Exactly what that meant, she still had little idea. She had to be back at the psych lab in three weeks, from where they’d ride to the outside facility each week thereafter.