“Okay, Beanette.”
The door closed. I didn’t get a chance to say “I love you,” so I said it to the closed door. The words, spoken but unheard, fell to the floor, where they shattered like glass. Everything so fragile, and I love her so much. That, I think, is fragile too.
I sniffed the air, and still I didn’t smell a thing.
I should have asked what it smelled like.
Later, Dorm
Kaitlyn is:
1. A prophet
2. Demonstrably insane
3. An incredible force
4. Bipolar
5. A ghost
6. A big dog in a little cage
Which of these seems likely, Dr. Lansing?
So sick of her. Sick of her ideas. Sick of it all. I am not a symptom! She’s the symptom. She’s sick.
Sick!
Sick!
Sick!
Sick!
Sick!
SICK!
From: RealxChick
To: AriHait558
Date: 19 Sept 2004
Subject: A Disgrace to My Gender
So I finally caved and emailed you. What a crappy night so far.
Grumpy.
From: AriHait558
To: RealxChick
Date: 19 Sept 2004
Subject: Re: A Disgrace to My Gender
It never ceases to amaze me the rules girls put on their lives.
I saw you near the art block the other day, and you looked right through me. Hence my silence. I suppose I’m a little too weird to acknowledge during school? Maybe your friends will disown you if they find out you’re secretly befriending the weird guy in the bowler hat.
A.
[There is no reply from Kaitlyn on the server.]
Diary of Kaitlyn Johnson
Sunday, 19 September 2004, 10:00 pm
Basement
You have dark hair. (I’ve always wanted dark hair.) Your eyes will be brown, a color that holds secrets well. Isn’t that fitting? You’re tall, because I’m not. You have three tattoos—an asp on your left wrist, a sparrow on your right ankle, and a dagger on your thigh. You have plump lips that are for kissing, not talking, and your eyes sparkle with inner light. You like to listen.
What do you think, Dee? Have I described you accurately? Do you need a more distinctive feature to tell you apart from the rabble of the world? How about this: You have one brown eye and one green eye. You take in through the green and cage with the brown. You have a nose stud too, and you always wear black.
Welcome to my head, Dee. Please, look around.
I’m in the bowels of the main building, exploring the basement. It’s so cold.
I swear, Dee, this place is as big as the entire main building. Chairs, tables, boxes, uniforms, equipment, netting, the old (and new) hall curtains, mannequins, old mattresses from the boardinghouse, skeletal teaching props—you name it. Not only did I reach a point where I thought I’d never find an exit, but I also lost track of the window that gave me entry. Just my luck, being trapped down there with useless things. Maybe, I thought, I’ll die down here. It got me thinking about whether I’m a prop in Carly’s life, or she’s one in mine.
There’s another room down there, Dee. Totally cut off from everything else. A tiny little box of a room with its own staircase—grimy and moist—up to a secret servants’ corridor that leads between walls and out into the kitchen. This room is the only part of this building not cluttered with stuff. The only thing in there is a big Victorian cupboard—an armoire. It gave me the chills. Even though it’s just an empty room, it felt as if someone was in there with me. Maybe more than one person. At any rate, I felt watched.
Lame, I know.
Because, Dee, I’m the thing in the dark, just like the Viking used to tell me. I’m the creature coming up from the basement, the thing under the bed. I have nothing to fear in the dark. I am the dark.
I am afraid.
[A piece of paper, upon which Kaitlyn scrawled a hurried diary entry, was slipped into the back of the journal. It is dated 20 September, 4:00 AM.]
Ari came to the main building looking for me. He said that when I didn’t answer his email and didn’t come to the chapel, he got worried (contrived much?). He saw me from the top of the hill, heading there. By the time he got there, I was already climbing out through the broken window.
“So this is where you sneak off to,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
I glanced back at the building, feeling oddly protective. “Sometimes.”
“Fancy a swim?”
Dee, I had forgotten! I’d forgotten how badly I wanted to visit the swimming pool, having been so preoccupied with the attic. He grinned and nodded towards the building, and honestly, I just gave in! I showed him the window I’ve broken, and we climbed inside. We didn’t linger long—instead, we ran up the stairs, and along the main corridor, past the billiard room, gallery, and main foyer, into the pool room, where we stripped down to our underwear and slipped in.
It was beautiful—and warm! So warm. We had to be quiet, since Coach O’Grady and Mrs. Mayle both have their apartments in this main building round the back, but it was the most fun I’ve had in years.
I thought, for a moment, Ari might try to kiss me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about that, but then he didn’t, and we just giggled and raced quietly in the pool. I’m going to keep this to myself, Dee. I’m going to keep Ari to myself.
I’m glad he didn’t kiss me.
I’m glad I’m still untouched.
13 131 days until the incident
Session #46 Audio
Dr. Annabeth Lansing (AL) and Carly “Kaitlyn” Johnson (CJ)
Friday, 24 September 2004, 7:57 PM
(AL): Am I speaking with Carly? Or Kaitlyn?
(CJ): Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell?
(AL): Hello, Kaitlyn.
(CJ): It’s Carly.
(AL): It’s better if you’re completely honest. You know that.
[Pause]
(CJ): Dr. Lansing, it’s Carly.
(AL): This is excellent. I didn’t see you last session.
(CJ): No. Kaitlyn?
(AL): She was concerned about not being able to see Jaime.
(CJ): I was wondering about that. About the delay.
(AL): A visit was arranged. I’m assuming Kaitlyn was around, not you.
(CJ): No… I was there. I meant I was wondering before the visit.
(AL): Tell me about the visit. How did it go?
(CJ): Jaime’s… different. I don’t want to talk about it.
(AL): I heard from Meredith Bailey. She tells me that Jaime was disturbed by a smell in your room.
(CJ): I don’t want to talk about it.
(AL): Carly, you need to tell me if Kaitlyn is smoking marijuana again.
(CJ): I would have told you.
