"Come on, Jenna, live dangerously."
Jenna Blake raised an eyebrow suspiciously at the chunk of raw fish that dangled in front of her face on the end of a small fork. Sushi. Even the word disgusted her.
"Melody, that is so nasty," Jenna said, shuddering.
With a shake of her head and a mischievous grin, Melody LaChance popped the piece into her mouth, chewed a bit, and swallowed.
"Jenna, darlin'," she said, her southern accent more pronounced than usual, "ya'll have to broaden your horizons."
"Oh, right," Jenna replied with a sardonic chuckle. "Says the girl who has Captain Crunch for breakfast every single day."
Melody blinked, embarrassed, and then shrugged. "You know what they say. If it ain't broke..."
"You could at least try Crunch Berries," Jenna prodded. "They're still in the Crunch family, right? But it'd be something different -- "
"Don't push me, Blake," Melody said, squinting to look intimidating.
Jenna laughed. "I'm glad you didn't have rehearsal tonight," she said.
Although Jenna loved musicals, she had always been too self-conscious to audition for one. So she was both proud and envious that her best friend had the lead role of Maria Von Trapp in Somerset University's fall production of The Sound of Music.
"Even though the show's in two weeks, the director, Alicia, thought we needed a night off," Melody explained. "I think it's more likely that Miss Alicia needed the night off, but who am I to complain?"
"Who are you?" Jenna asked, fluttering her eyelashes. "Why, Melody, you're the star!"
Melody blinked and narrowed her eyes again. "You're mocking me, girl."
"Yup," Jenna said, nodding enthusiastically.
Melody thrust another piece of sushi at Jenna, and Jenna backed up so fast she nearly toppled over. Melody laughed, and it was Jenna's turn to shoot her a withering glance.
"Be nice, or the sushi monster will get you," Melody said.
Jenna rolled her eyes and tried to erase the thought of sushi from her head with a bite of her Hibachi chicken. Their waiter came over to see if everything was satisfactory -- which it was. After he walked off, Jenna glanced out the window at the bright lights and the odd collection of humanity that thronged Harvard Square.
She loved it here. Here meaning so many different things. Miyamoto's Japanese Steak House -- which was famous for its sushi bar -- had fast become one of her favorite restaurants. But she didn't just mean Miyamoto's. She meant all of it: the vibrant life of Harvard Square; Boston, only a couple of T stops south of Cambridge; and Somerset University, two T stops north.
Jenna had been pretty fortunate as a kid. Although her parents were divorced, her mom, April, was a surgeon, so they'd never had to worry about money. They weren't rich, but Jenna usually got what she wanted from Santa on Christmas morning.
But she had never really been on her own before she went to college. She'd been to places around the world most kids never get to see, but she hadn't really been out in the world and made meaningful contacts until she got to Somerset.
She knew how good she had it. A great school, a great mom, a new relationship with her father -- Frank Logan was a professor at Somerset, so he and Jenna were just starting to get to know each other -- and then there were her friends. Jenna took college seriously and spent a lot of time studying. Much of the time when she wasn't studying she was working at Somerset Medical Center. But in what she very sarcastically referred to as her "copious free time" she hung out with Melody, Mel's brother Hunter, and with Yoshiko Kitsuta, her roommate.
Yeah, she was lucky all right.
In the few dark times she did have, waking in the middle of the night or walking along a poorly lit campus pathway, Jenna would feel fear surge up within her again. She was easily startled, what Hunter LaChance called "twitchy." On the other hand she consoled herself with the knowledge that she was getting better -- not quite as twitchy anymore.
It wasn't as though she didn't have reason to be twitchy -- not after what she'd been through. In the first two weeks of school, Jenna had gotten involved in a genuine mystery, a series of deaths that turned out to be politically motivated assassinations. In fact, she was so wrapped up in it that she had become a target herself, and was nearly killed on two separate occasions. Even her father had been injured, shot in the shoulder, and now, a few weeks later, he was still sore.
The one good thing that had come out of all that insanity, though, was her job. Jenna was a diener, or pathology assistant, for Dr. Walter Slikowski, the county medical examiner, who worked out of Somerset Medical Center. She had always been interested in medicine, but the sight of blood and the thought that lives could depend on her made her very nervous, so her father had suggested she work with patients who were already dead. It was funny at the time, but now Jenna couldn't be happier.
Plus, it was a great compromise for her parents. Her mother wanted her to be a doctor, of course. But her father, a criminology professor, had always urged her toward his field, which was only natural. Truth be told, Jenna really did enjoy the forensic aspects of pathology. Every corpse was a mystery to her, a puzzle, and there was something about that that she really found fascinating.
Jenna loved puzzles.
Of course, all her friends thought working with the dead was completely revolting. And, when she thought about it, there was something about grossing them out that appealed to her as well. She liked being different -- to a point. Unfortunately, she'd also found out that working around dead bodies was not exactly turning her into a guy magnet. There was one guy, Damon Harris, whom she'd gone out with a few times. He lived on the same floor in Sparrow Hall that Jenna did. But there was no real spark between them, and they were just friends now.
Other than Damon, she hadn't had much luck meeting guys -- or, at least, guys who were interested in her. The one guy she actually had a little crush on was a local homicide detective named Danny Mariano, and he was thirteen years older than Jenna, which was a no-no as far as she was concerned.
Which brought her back to Melody and how grateful she was to have a friend she could really kick back with and be herself. It was so effortless to be with Melody, to just hang out. They might talk nonstop or just sit quietly. Jenna had never had a sister, but she imagined that it was supposed to be like this.
As if she were reading Jenna's mind, Melody looked over at her and smiled. Jenna grinned back, then glanced around the restaurant. It was busy, but not completely packed. Probably because it was a late hour for dinner, after nine o'clock.
She swallowed another piece of Hibachi chicken and realized that she was stuffed. With a sigh, she pushed back from the table and picked up her glass of watered-down Coke. She swirled the remaining ice in the glass as she sipped from the thin straw.
Melody drank ginger ale, which Jenna thought was disgusting. Why anyone would want to imbibe something that tasted like rusty rainwater was beyond her.
"Done?" Melody asked.
"Totally."
"But you still have room for chocolate chip ice cream from Herrell's, right?"
"Of course," Jenna replied, staring at her friend as though the question were absurd.
Which it was.
A short time later they were wandering through the Square toward Herrell's Ice Cream while Jenna babbled on about the aesthetic value of a chocolate-covered waffle cone, when she heard the muffled thump of music.
"Wonder where that's coming from."
Melody stopped to listen and raised her eyebrows in recognition. "Delgado's," she said confidently. "I think Greek Tragedy is playing there tonight. They're not bad."
Jenna shrugged. "Never heard of them."
"Hunter loves them, if that means anything," Melody explained. "And, hey, speaking of my little brother, where is he? Did he have an excuse for blowing us off?"
Jenna pulled open the door to Herrell's and held it for Melody.
"Not really," she explained, her mind going back to Hunter's casual dismissal of their plans for the evening. "He just said he had some things to do, and that was that. Actually, I've got to say, he's been acting kind of weird lately."
Jenna moved toward the counter, eyes drifting toward the menu. It was relatively late, so the place was almost empty. Just a grungy-looking couple at the counter placing an order, and two older, well-dressed men at a small table. When Jenna realized that Melody wasn't right behind her, she stopped and turned.
Melody was staring at her with a tiny grin on her face.
"What?" Jenna asked.
"You're amazing."
Jenna's expression was half smile and half frown. "What?" she demanded again.
"Hunter," Melody said. "You know he has a total crush on you."
"Oh, please," Jenna said, turning back toward the menu. "I thought he was over that."
"That's what you want to think," Melody informed her. "But you know he's into you. And he did make a sort of snarky remark about how much time we've been spending together. I think he's jealous."
Jenna grimaced at that. She liked Hunter, she really did. She met him even before she met Melody, and they'd hit it off right away. Hunter LaChance was a sweet guy with boyish good looks and a genuine kindness about him. He was a good listener, which Jenna decided was a talent rare among the male gender, but he was so completely not Jenna's type. There wasn't even the remotest hint of a spark there. She didn't want Hunter to take a romantic interest in her, because she didn't want him to be hurt. In fact, she'd tried to discourage him as much as possible, without telling him there wasn't a chance in hell.
She continued to think about Hunter as the two of them ordered their ice cream -- both got waffle cones. Jenna couldn't help feeling a little bad about not returning Hunter's feelings. But then a thought struck her.
"Okay, so he's jealous," she said. "But is he jealous of you, because he likes me and you're with me all the time, or jealous of me, because he hasn't been able to spend as much time with his big sister as he'd like? You guys are pretty close."
Melody thought about that for a few seconds. Then she shrugged.
"Maybe both."
It was quarter past nine when Yoshiko Kitsuta returned to Sparrow Hall. She'd been visiting her friend Rochelle Hamlin down hill. They were in Colonial American History together and had been brainstorming topics for a term paper that was due before Thanksgiving. They had plenty of time, but decided it'd be easier to get started and hit the libray if they each had someone urging them on. The buddy system, Rochelle called it. Yoshiko was all for it.
I would never have started this early without Rochelle.
Sparrow Hall was split down the middle between guys and girls. Half of every floor was male, and half female. Each floor had a common area in the center where some studying, too much partying, and the battle of the sexes went on, day after day.
Yoshiko trotted up the north stairs, on the girls' side, to the third floor. When she pushed through the stairwell door, the halls were pretty calm. It was a Wednesday night, late enough so that most people were either in their rooms studying or off doing something that was too early to return from.
The latter would include Jenna, Yoshiko knew. Her roomie was out with Melody, which meant she'd have the room to herself for a bit. Fine with her. She could relax, maybe call home. Send some e-mails. Yoshiko and Jenna were good friends, which was nice, particularly since she'd heard so many horror stories about other kids' roommates.
But they weren't best friends, and that was okay, too. They could hang out together, and they each liked each other's friends, but they had different interests and friends of their own. Yoshiko thought it worked best that way. They lived together, and if they spent every waking moment together, she figured they'd grow sick of each other pretty quick.
So, yeah, it was cool.
Still, she hadn't hung out with Jenna in almost a week. If Jenna wasn't working, she was out with Melody or sitting in on one of Melody's rehearsals, wishing she had had the guts to audition. Then when Jenna was home, she was studying.
Maybe, Yoshiko thought, it's time to schedule a roomie night.
She was halfway down the hall when she spotted a lone figure sitting in a chair in the common area. A small smile played across her face, and she took a breath. It was Hunter, who was reading a book, oblivious to everything around him.
As usual, Yoshiko thought. Hunter was pretty oblivious, especially when it came to her. Yoshiko was pretty outgoing. She dressed well -- made a point of it, in fact, because it made her happy. She was, in general, pretty confident, but she'd never had a real boyfriend, and so she tended to dam up when it came to one-on-one conversations with boys who might be potential boyfriends. Especially Hunter.
Hunter was something else to Yoshiko.
She had grown up in Hawaii, on the island of Oahu, and the boys back home had pretty much treated her like a sister. Or, worse, one of the guys. Hunter was cute, respectful, had the bluest eyes, and...he liked Jenna.
With a sigh, Yoshiko walked past her room, 311, to the common area. She plopped down in a big, ugly brown chair, and held her backpack on her lap.
"Hey," she finally said.
Hunter looked up. When he saw her, he smiled warmly. Yoshiko's heart did a little flip.
"Hi. What are you doing back? Didn't you go to the Square with Mel and Jenna?"
Yoshiko shook her head. "I'm a slave to my studies."
Hunter held up the book he'd been reading. Things Fall Apart, by Chinua Achebe. "Me, too."
There was an awkward moment of silence. Hunter and Yoshiko were friends, but their friendship was pretty much defined by the larger group that included Jenna and Melody. When Yoshiko started to get up from her chair, ready to go to her room, Hunter stopped her.
"Hey," he said. "I think I've had enough of being a responsible student for tonight." He took a quick glance at his watch. "This senior, Bill Sheehan, is doing his stand-up act at the campus center at ten. Do you want to go?"
Yoshiko's eyes widened, but only for a moment. Then she grinned, and was happy to see that Hunter grinned back.
"Let me just dump my stuff, get cleaned up a little, and I'll meet you back here in ten minutes," she told him.
"Cool," Hunter said, nodding. "Ten minutes."
Yoshiko hurried back to her room. She dumped her bag, then set about washing her face in the sink, putting on makeup and changing her clothes, all at lightning speed.
Just as she was slipping into a pair of Candies that were a little daring for her, there was a knock at the door.
"I'm coming," she said, smiling broadly. It wasn't really a date, she knew. But it sort of felt like one, and that was a start.
Tossing her shoulder-length black hair back, she pulled the door open, expecting to see Hunter waiting for her in the hall.
It wasn't Hunter.
Norm Crandall yanked open the door to the basement inside Delgado's, and swore under his breath. The music was still slamming into his brain -- he'd had a bitch of a headache all night -- and now some idiot college punk had puked his guts up right in front of the stage.
The scene that had followed, with the kids spreading out and forming a circle so nobody would step in the vomit, had been enough to bring a smile to Norm's face. But now he was scowling again.
He didn't mind mopping up beer. Didn't mind washing the floor, righting the chairs, cleaning up a broken glass now and then. None of that bothered him. But puke was puke.
Norm stomped down the ancient wooden stairs to the basement, his mind wandering angrily back to the room upstairs. It wasn't until he was three or four steps from the bottom that he blinked in the dim light and realized that he wasn't alone. There was somebody lying on the floor down there.
With a loud curse, Norm shouted at the girl -- for he could see long hair and assumed it had to be a girl -- to get her ass up and out of there. When she didn't move, his mind finally made the leap. He started to fear the worst. That maybe she'd gotten drunk, gone through the wrong door, and fallen down the stairs or something. Something bad.
He knew it was something bad.
Especially when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, and the sole of his shoe slid as if he'd stepped in a patch of oil. He looked down at the dark stain on the ground, and he knew. The stain was almost black in the dim light, but he knew.
"Oh, hell," Norm Crandall said weakly, sadly.
"Poor kid," he added, as he reached out to touch the shoulder of the girl.
Her back was to him, and she was so still. He gave her shoulder a little tug, and the body sort spilled over onto its back. And Norman saw the gaping hole torn in her chest, the jutting bone, and the horrible emptiness where there should have been...something.
But there was nothing.
Cursing, he turned and started to stumble up the stairs toward the pounding music above. Norm Crandall almost threw up.
The only thing that stopped him was knowing who would have to clean it up.
Copyright © 1999 by Christopher Golden
--This text refers to an out of print or unavailable edition of this title.
