Crave (Crave Series)

by Tracy Wolff

  “Are you sure you aren’t busy? I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to explore the library a little bit. I love the gargoyle theme. Very Gothic.”

  “It is, right? Ms. Royce is cool like that.”

  “Oh, yeah? Let me guess. Flannel shirts and a hipster vibe? That kind of thing?”

  “You would think. But she’s actually more a hippie skirt and flower crown kind of woman.”

  “Now I want to meet her even more.” We’re on the other side of the library from where I came in and we pass through a sitting area with a bunch of black couches, each one dotted with purple throw pillows bearing different quotes from classic horror movies. My favorite is Norman Bates’s famous line from Psycho: “We all go a little mad sometimes.” Although I’m also partial to the pillow next to it: “Be afraid. Be very afraid,” from The Fly.

  “Ms. Royce is big on Halloween,” Lia says with a laugh. “I don’t think she’s put everything away yet.”

  Oh, right. Halloween was three days ago. I’ve been so focused on everything else that I just about forgot about it completely this year, even though Heather spent months making her costume from scratch.

  I put the book I picked up earlier down on the nearest table—I’ll come back for it when the librarian is here— Lia pushes the main door open and gestures for me to precede her. I wait while she turns off the lights, then locks the door. “The library is usually closed on Sunday nights, but I’m doing an independent study this semester, so Ms. Royce lets me work late sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

  “No need to apologize, Grace.” She shoots me a vaguely exasperated look. “How were you supposed to know? I’m just telling you why I have to lock things back up.”

  “Good point,” I admit, a little surprised at how nice she’s being.

  She starts down the hallway. “So I’m assuming, since you aren’t at the party Macy organized for you, that your first full day at our illustrious school hasn’t been as smooth as your cousin hoped it’d be?”

  She’s got that right, but I’m not going to admit it when that would sound like I’m throwing Macy under the bus. Especially since Macy isn’t the problem. Everything else is, but not her. “The party was good. I’ve just had a really long day. I needed a break for a few minutes.”

  “I bet. Unless you’re coming from Vancouver or something, getting here is never easy.”

  “Yeah, I’m definitely not from Vancouver.” I shiver a little as an unexpected wind whips through the hallway.

  I glance around, looking for where it could be coming from, then get distracted as Lia raises her brows and says, “Alaska is a long way from California.”

  “How did you know I’m from California?” Maybe that’s why everyone is staring at me—I must be wearing my not-from-here vibe like a parka.

  “Foster must have mentioned it when he let us know you were coming,” she answers. “And I’ve got to say, San Diego is pretty much the worst possible place to move here from.”

  “It’s the worst possible place to move anywhere from,” I agree. “But especially here.”

  “No doubt.” She looks me up and down, then smirks. “So are you freezing in that dress?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve been freezing since I landed in Anchorage. Doesn’t matter what I wear—even before Macy talked me into putting on this thing.”

  “Guess we better get you that tea, then.” She nods to the staircase that’s just come into view. “My room’s on the fourth floor, if that’s okay?”

  “Oh, ours is, too. Mine and Macy’s, I mean.”

  “Awesome.”

  Lia keeps talking as we make our way to the stairs, pointing out different rooms she thinks I need to know—the chem lab, the study lounge, the snack shop. Part of me wants to pull out my phone and take notes—or, better yet, draw a map, since I’m hopeless with directions. Maybe if I can figure out something as simple as the layout of the castle, other things will fall into place, too. And then I can start to feel safe again—something I haven’t felt in a really long time.

  We finally make it back to Lia’s room—she’s in what I’m assuming is the West hallway, judging by its location in relation to mine. I’m a little surprised when she stops in front of the one door on the hallway, maybe on the whole floor, that doesn’t have some kind of decoration on it.

  My surprise must show, because she says, “It’s been a rough year. I just wasn’t up to decorating when I got back here.”

  “That sucks. The rough-year part, I mean. Not the decorating part.”

  “I knew what you meant.” She smiles sadly. “My boyfriend died several months ago, and everyone thinks I should be over it. But we were together a really long time. It’s not that easy to just let him go. As I’m sure you know.”

  It’s been a month since my parents died, and I still feel like I’m in shock half the time. “No, it’s not.”

  Like I wake up every morning and for a minute, just a minute, I don’t remember why I have that sinking feeling in my stomach.

  I don’t remember that they’re gone and I’m never going to see them again.

  I don’t remember that I’m alone.

  And then it hits me all over again, and so does the grief.

  Getting on that first plane yesterday morning was the hardest thing I’ve ever done—besides identifying them—and I think it’s because it made their deaths sink in just a little more.

  Lia and I just kind of stand there in the middle of her dorm room for a second, two people who look fine on the outside but who are destroyed on the inside. We don’t talk, don’t say anything at all. Just stay where we are and absorb the fact that someone else hurts as much as we do.

  It’s a bizarre feeling. And an oddly comforting one.

  Eventually, Lia moves over to her desk, where she has an electric kettle plugged in. She pours some water into it from the pitcher she also has on her desk, then turns it on before opening a jar of what looks like potpourri and scooping it into two tea strainers.

  “Can I help with anything?” I ask, even though she seems to have things under control. It’s nice to see her go through the ritual of making tea from homemade leaves. It reminds me of my mom and all the hours we spent in the kitchen assembling all her different blends.

  “I’ve got it.” She nods to the second bed in the room, which she has set up as a kind of couch/daybed thing with a red comforter and a bunch of jewel-toned throw pillows. “Go ahead and sit down.”

  I do, wishing I was in yoga pants or joggers instead of this dress so I could sit like a normal person. Lia doesn’t talk much as she makes the tea, and I don’t, either. Kind of hard to know where to take the conversation now that we’ve covered everything from dying languages to dead loved ones.

  The silence drags on, and I start to feel uncomfortable. But it doesn’t take long for the teakettle to boil, thankfully, and then Lia’s setting a cup of tea down in front of me. “It’s my own special blend,” she says, holding her cup up to her mouth and blowing softly. “I hope you like it.”

  “I’m sure it’s awesome.” I wrap my hands around my cup and nearly shudder with relief at finally being able to warm up my fingers. Even if it tastes terrible, it’s worth it to have a chance at not being cold.

  “These cups are beautiful,” I tell her after taking a sip. “Are they Japanese?”

  “Yes,” Lia says with a smile. “From my favorite shop back home in Tokyo. My mom sends me a new set every semester. It helps with the homesickness.”

  “That’s awesome.” I think of my own mom and the way she always bought me a new tea mug every Christmas. Looks like Lia and I really do have a lot in common.

  “So how did the party go? I assume not well, considering you ended up in the library, but did you at least get to meet some people?”

  “I did, yeah. They see
med nice enough.”

  She laughs. “You’re a really bad liar.”

  “Yeah, well, it seemed polite to try.” I take a sip of the tea, which has a really powerful floral taste that I’m not sure I care for. But it’s hot, and that’s enough to have me taking another sip. “I’ve been told that before, though. The bad-liar part, I mean.”

  “You should probably work on that. At Katmere, knowing how to lie well is practically Survival 101.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I guess I’m in serious trouble, then.”

  “I guess you are.” There’s no humor in her answer this time, and I realize suddenly that there was none in her original statement, either.

  “Wait,” I say, strangely discomfited by that fact. “What do you guys have to lie about that’s so important?”

  That’s when Lia looks me straight in the eye and answers, “Everything.”

  13

  Just

  Bite Me

  I have no idea how to respond to that. I mean, what am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to think?

  “Don’t look so scandalized,” she tells me after a few seconds of awkward silence. “I’m just teasing, Grace.”

  “Oh, right.” I laugh along with her, because what else can I do? Still, it doesn’t feel right. Maybe because of how serious she looked when she told me that she lies about everything. Or maybe because I can’t help wondering if that was the truth and these are just lies… Either way, there’s not much else for me to do but shrug and say, “I figured you were just messing with me.”

  “I totally was. You should have seen your face.”

  “I bet,” I answer with a laugh.

  She doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and neither do I, until the silence starts to feel awkward. In self- defense, I finally blurt out, “What language were you reading earlier? It sounded so cool.”

  Lia looks at me for a second, like she’s debating if she wants to answer or not. Finally, she answers, “Akkadian. It’s the language that evolved from ancient Sumerian.”

  “Really? So it’s three thousand years old?”

  She looks surprised. “Something like that, yeah.”

  “That’s incredible. I’ve always been so impressed with linguists and anthropologists who do that, you know? Like it’s one thing to figure out what the different letters mean and the words they make.” I shake my head in awe. “But to figure out what they sound like? It kind of blows my mind.”

  “Right?” Her eyes glow with excitement. “The foundation of language is so—”

  My phone vibrates with several text messages in a row, cutting her off. I pull it out, figuring Macy finally got tired of waiting for me to come back. Sure enough, my home screen is a series of texts from my cousin, each one a little more frantic than the one before it. Looks like she’s been texting me for a while but I had my ringer off.

  Macy: Hey, where’d you go?

  Macy: I keep waiting for you to come back

  Macy: Hey, where are you????

  Macy: I’m coming to find you

  Macy: Are you okay????

  Macy: Answer me!!!!!

  Macy: What’s going on?

  Macy: Are. You. OK?????

  I text her back a quick, I’m good, and my phone immediately buzzes again. A glance at my cousin’s all-caps WHERE ARE YOU? and I know I’d better find her before she loses it completely.

  “Sorry, Lia, but I’ve got to go. Macy’s freaking out.”

  “Why? Because you left the party? She’ll get over it.”

  “Yeah, but I think she’s actually worried.” I don’t tell her about what happened with those guys last night, don’t mention that that’s probably why Macy is so upset that she can’t find me. Instead, I focus on my phone and text back Lia’s room before standing up. “Thanks for the tea.”

  “At least stay a couple more minutes, finish your drink.” She looks half amused, half disappointed as she continues. “You don’t want your cousin to think she can boss you around.”

  I carry my cup over to the bathroom sink. “She’s not bossing me around. I think she’s afraid I’m upset or something.” It seems easier to give that explanation than to go into everything that happened with Marc and Quinn. “Besides, if I know her, she’s on her way to your room right now.”

  “You’re probably right. Macy does tend to be the hysterical type.”

  “I didn’t say that—” A knock on the door cuts me off.

  Lia just grins at me in an I told you so kind of way. “Don’t worry about washing the cup,” she says, taking it from my hands. “Just go show Macy that you’re not crying your eyes out. And that I didn’t murder you.”

  “She wouldn’t think that. She’s just worried about me.” Still, I make a beeline for the door, then throw it open to reveal my cousin—as predicted—on the other side. “I’m right here,” I tell her with a smile.

  “Oh, thank God!” She throws her arms around me. “I thought something had happened to you.”

  “What could possibly happen to me when nearly everyone else is at the party? I just went for a walk,” I try to joke.

  “I don’t know.” She looks suddenly uncertain. “Lots of things…”

  “I think Macy was worried you might have gone outside,” Lia interjects. “If you had wandered out in that dress, you’d be close to dead by now.”

  “Yes, exactly!” Macy looks like she’s seized on the excuse. “I didn’t want you to freeze to death before your first full day in Alaska is over.” It’s a strange answer, especially considering she knows what almost happened to me last night and that I was terrified of being thrown outside for just that reason. But now isn’t exactly the time to get into all that, so I turn to Lia instead. And say, “Thanks for everything.”

  “No worries.” She grins at me. “Stop by again sometime. We’ll do mani-pedis or facials or something.”

  “Sounds good. And I’d love to hear more about your research.”

  “Mani-pedis?” Macy repeats, sounding surprised. “Research?”

  Lia rolls her eyes. “Obviously, you’re invited, too.” And then she closes the door in our faces.

  Which…let’s be honest, seems weird, considering how friendly she’s been all night. Then again, the second Macy showed up, everything about Lia got a lot sharper. Maybe her abrupt good night has more to do with my cousin than it does with me.

  And then Macy whispers, “I can’t believe you got invited to do mani-pedis with Lia Tanaka. After being invited to her room.”

  She doesn’t sound jealous, just confused. Like it’s the strangest thing in the world for Lia and me to have something in common. “It wasn’t hard. She seems really nice.”

  “‘Nice’ isn’t the adjective I would normally use to describe her,” Macy answers as we start down the hall. “She’s the most popular girl in school and normally takes great pains to remind people of that. Although lately, she’s been really reclusive.”

  “Yeah, well, after losing her boyfriend, I figure she’s entitled.”

  Macy’s eyes go huge. “She told you about that?”

  “Yeah.” A sickening thought occurs to me. “Is it a secret?”

  “No. It’s just… I’ve heard she doesn’t talk about Hudson.” Her voice is off when she says it, and suddenly she’s looking anywhere but at me. I’m pretty sure it’s because she’s uncomfortable and not because the thousand-year-old tapestry she’s currently looking at and has probably seen a million times is more interesting than our conversation. I just wish I knew why.

  “That’s not that surprising, is it?” I answer. “And she didn’t really talk about him to me. Just told me that he died.”

  “Yeah. Almost a year ago. It kind of rattled the school.” She’s still not looking at me, which is growing weirder by the second.

  “Was he a studen
t here?”

  “He was, but he graduated the year before he died. Still, it really freaked a lot of us out.”

  “I bet.” I want to ask what happened, but she’s so uncomfortable that it seems rude, so I let it go.

  We walk in silence for a couple of minutes, giving the subject time to dissipate. Once it does, Macy bounces back to her normal self and asks, “Are you hungry? You didn’t eat anything at the party.”

  I start to say yes—I haven’t eaten since the bowl of Frosted Flakes Macy poured me this morning from her stash—but the altitude sickness must be back, because the mention of food has my stomach rumbling, and not in a good way. “You know, I think I’m just going to go to bed. I’m not feeling so great.”

  For the first time, Macy looks worried. “If you aren’t feeling better in the morning, I think we’d better stop by the nurse. You’ve been here more than twenty-four hours now. You should be starting to get used to the altitude.”

  “When I googled it, it said twenty-four to forty-eight hours. If I’m not better after tomorrow’s classes, I’ll go. Okay?”

  “If you’re not better after tomorrow’s classes, I’m pretty sure my dad will drag you there himself. He’s been frantic about you since you asked him to leave you in San Diego to finish up your quarter.”

  Another awkward silence starts to descend, and honestly, I just can’t take it right now. So it’s my turn to change the subject when I say, “I can’t believe how tired I am. What time is it anyway?”

  Macy laughs. “It’s eight o’clock, party animal.”

  “I’ll party next week. After I finally get some sleep…and after this gross altitude sickness goes away.” I put a hand to my stomach as the nausea from earlier returns with a vengeance.