EIGHT
O n Saturday morning I get a phone call from Sarah, my media professor, who apparently doesn’t believe in weekends. She got my message the night before about me changing my media project, and she loves the idea.
“I think a podcast on Jay Hoque’s disappearance would be fantastic. This is exactly what I meant by a personal connection. I assume you knew him?”
“No, actually, I didn’t. But I just moved into his former dorm room. Is that good for a personal connection?”
“Yeah, it’s great. Even better than knowing him. Your investigation will be completely unbiased. An insider and outsider at the same time.” She gives some examples of investigative journalism pieces where the author had a personal, but distant, connection with the victim. “A good starting point would be to speak to the student who wrote the recent article about him in the school paper. Maybe you can collaborate, even interview her for an episode.”
“Oh, okay ... who was it?” I don’t remember looking at the byline when I read it.
“Gracie Song. She’s in my Thursday class. I can ask her if she’ll speak to you.”
Of course it’s Gracie. We have a bit of a truce now, but she doesn’t trust me. When she finds out that I’m investigating Jay’s disappearance, she’ll definitely think I’m obsessed with him. But I don’t have much of a choice. “I know Gracie. She lives in my residence. I’ll ask her.”
“Great. Talk to her and let me know your progress on Wednesday.”
After running down to the dining hall to grab a smoothie bowl, I bring it back to the room to start on my homework. But I’m having trouble focusing. This is my first Saturday without Mia, and it seems so ... quiet. Alone. Maybe I should work in the library? It’s not like I’m not used to being alone. My dad travels a lot for work, and Mom always works on weekends. And my brother left Alderville a while ago. But this feels weird. I expected my Saturdays in university to be busier. I expected there would be more people around.
I open my Instagram and scroll for a while. There’s nothing interesting going on. My ex-boyfriend, Chase, back in Alderville posted about some work he’s doing on his car. I leave a comment saying it’s looking good. Mia has a new post—pictures of her going out with Lance and his friends last night. I really should stop following her. I check, and she’s still following me, too, but I haven’t posted anything since I left West Hall. I thought I was being really mature by not deleting her from my socials when I left our room, but now I think I’m torturing myself. She’s still got the boyfriend and all her new friends. All I have is a stuffed octopus, a neighbor who dislikes me, and a roommate who doesn’t actually exist. I mute Mia’s feed.
I’m going to have to get used to being alone, now that I don’t have a roommate. Or at least now that I don’t have a conventional roommate. I check ResConnect, and Jay isn’t listed as a resident of the room, which means he’s out. Sigh. I do have a ton of schoolwork, though. I pull out my politics text and start on the readings for Monday.
After finishing my politics readings, I go to my media project. It’s time to start investigating what happened to Jay. I open a fresh Moleskine notebook—Dad bought me a bunch of these when I started school, saying all reporters needed black notebooks—and put headings on the first three pages: Possible things that could have happened , People to talk to , Investigate Further , and finally, Suspects . I add Birdwatcher to the suspect list, even though I have no idea who that is. I add black Corolla after it.
Jay claimed that, yes, he hooked up with a bunch of girls at TCU, but he didn’t think he upset any of them enough for them to stalk him, or even hurt him. He said Emma is the only one who may have been upset, because she wanted a relationship when he didn’t. I add Emma to the suspect list.
Of course, it’s possible that Jay is the only one responsible for his disappearance. Maybe he needed to escape something big and bad, so he ran away? But if that were the case, wouldn’t he know about the big bad thing less than a month before he leaves? It also could have been an accident. In fact, the leading causes of death for men his age are accidents and suicide. He could have gone for a walk on a dark road and been hit by a car. Or attacked by a bear.
Wait. I’m in the city now. No bears.
Surely there are more ways to get hurt in the city than out in the country. At least, according to my mother there are. I write down possibilities: mugging , drug overdose , hit by a streetcar , drowning ...
I feel sick to my stomach. Poor Jay. I don’t have a clue what, but I know something happened to him. I exhale, remembering what Sarah said. I need to stay unbiased and unconnected.
Despite what Jay said last night, I add died by suicide and ran away to the list. Jay was adamant that he could not be intentionally responsible for his disappearance, but a lot can happen in a few weeks.
Also, why am I so sure that Jay’s being honest with me? Maybe he is depressed and doesn’t want to admit it. Or maybe he’s into some shady shit that put a target on him. Why would he tell a first-year that he’s never met all about the messy bits of his life?
I look at Ted. How would an octopus solve this? Is it wise to trust Jay, or should I treat him like an unreliable narrator? But why would Jay lie to me? I am the only person he knows who can find out what happened to him. Or what will happen.
I have to believe him, even if he is a shady, commitment-phobic fuckboy. If I doubt Jay’s honesty, I may as well give up completely, because I’ll have nothing to work with.
I go back to my list of what could have happened. An accident of some sort seems the most likely, but also the hardest for me to solve. Jay could have somehow left the room that night without anyone noticing, and just about anything could have happened to him on the busy downtown Toronto streets. But if it was an accident, the police would have found him by now, wouldn’t they? Even a hit and run leaves a body behind. Or if there were murderous animals terrorizing the city, there’d be more missing people, right? Or, you know, remains.
Local hospitals have already been checked. Hell, after his disappearance, there was a full search of the nearby parks and green spaces. I look around the room. The only ways in or out are through the door and, I suppose, the window near his bed. I check the window. There’s nothing remarkable about it, and from what I can tell, there is no security alarm on it.
The window does open ... but only about four inches because of a little metal thing stopping it, presumably to keep idiotic students from chucking something out the window. Or to keep students from jumping out. Removing the locking thing needs a key. I make a note to find out who has that key, but it seems very unlikely that Jay left through the window. Also, we’re on the third floor. So he went out the door.
According to one of the articles about the case, Jay was seen on cameras in the stairwell going up the stairs at six, back down again at eight, and then up again a few minutes later. Someone also saw him in the lobby area on the first floor at eight. I make a note to find out who it was. Also, are the only security cameras in the building in the stairwell and at the front door?
There was no activity on his student card after he was logged coming into the building around six. No dining hall purchases, no library loans, no entry to any university building that requires a card swipe. The card readers only log when someone comes into a building, not when they leave it. In the Investigate Further column, I add card readers and are there more cameras?
I look at my mostly empty notebook. I hope Jay has more leads than this. I add Gracie to the list of people I need to talk to. But I need to tread carefully. I don’t want to make things even more awkward with her.
Over the course of the day, I check ResConnect a few times, but Jay’s name is never there. It’s possible he’ll never be there. Our timelines are only 85 percent the same—it’s possible that in his timeline, he’ll disappear before November 6.
But at eight o’clock sharp, a message comes through ResConnect.
Jay: Okay, just got in. What did you come up with?
I tell him we should start by figuring out how he got out of the room.
Jay: Probably the same way I always leave. Through the door, then the stairs. Didn’t the stairwell camera catch me?
Aleeza: No, you were seen going up at six, then going down at eight, and up again a few minutes later. Could you have left through the window?
Jay: The window doesn’t open all the way. And I’m not a huge fan of heights, I can’t see me going out a three-story window.
Aleeza: Maybe you had no choice.
Jay: I would have caused a holy ruckus. I can scream loud. Believe me, it’s unlikely.
I write afraid of heights in my notebook.
Jay: Can you try and see the camera footage?
Aleeza: Why?
Jay: I don’t know. Maybe they missed something. Or you can describe it to me and I’ll notice if I look strange.
Aleeza: Okay, I’ll ask campus police on Monday. I also want to find out if there are any more cameras in East House.
Jay: Okay.
I’m realizing that there is little Jay can do to help me figure out how he got out of the building, since he hasn’t actually done it yet. It makes more sense for him to help me with suspects and motive.
Aleeza: I’m going to try to talk to Gracie. You know her ... she lives next door.
Jay: Yeah, I know her a little. Do you think she saw something?
Aleeza: Maybe. But she wrote that recent article about you in the school paper. She may be able to help.
Jay: Okay. I like Gracie. Do you have suspects yet?
Aleeza: My suspects are the Birdwatcher, the driver of the black Corolla, and Emma. But I doubt Emma’s behind it because she’s willingly talking to the press. I don’t think she’s that dumb. Were you cheating on her?
Jay: We were never exclusive.
Aleeza: Did she know that?
Jay: Of course. I don’t lead anyone on. I keep things casual, and I make that clear.
This is so weird. Me. Aleeza Kassam. Talking to a guy about his hookup habits. But ... I still feel uneasy. If I hooked up with someone like Jay, I’d probably want more than casual, too, right? But if he sent clear “casual” vibes, then I would make sure that’s all I wanted before hopping into bed with him.
I don’t have a ton of experience with guys. I’ve had only one boyfriend, my ex, Chase, who I dated for four months before I moved away from Alderville. We broke up when I left town because we both knew we weren’t really into each other enough for long distance. We’re still friends. Sort of.
But even someone like me who’s not the hookup type, and who has barely dated, can see that Jay isn’t—or wasn’t—relationship material. Sexy, but not one to settle down. If Jay made his intentions clear, then why would any girl be upset at him enough to actually hurt him?
Maybe he’s not being honest with me, though. Maybe he did promise more.
Aleeza: Is it possible someone thought they could change you or something? Maybe they all wanted to be the one to tame the wild rake.
Jay: Oh my god, did you call me a rake?
Aleeza: Yeah, like a libertine. A playboy.
Jay: I know what a rake is. It’s HILARIOUS you’re calling me one.
Aleeza: I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me.
Jay: I would never, Roomie. Okay, yeah that’s possible, but I think I would’ve got that vibe from a girl in person, you know? I’m still pretty friendly with girls I hooked up with. Only Emma is weird, and she only got that way after we stopped talking.
I can’t believe he’s calling Emma weird because she was into him. I roll my eyes. This is why I steer clear of fuckboys.
Aleeza: How many girls are we talking about?
Jay: Not a huge number.
Aleeza: Numbers are relative. Some might say 25 isn’t a huge number, but in this context ...
Jay: Okay, four since I started uni. Hooked up with some of them more than once.
Four. It’s more than my number of one, but not as many as I was assuming. I suddenly remember Jay saying I was cute when I told him to look at my Instagram. He was probably humoring me. I doubt short girls with frizzy hair are his type. Then again, I have no idea what the girls he slept with look like. Well, I’ve seen Emma in that newspaper article. She is ... gorgeous. Is he being open with me precisely because I’m not the type of girl he normally goes for?
But four isn’t really that big a number.
Aleeza: Did you really ghost Emma?
Jay: Definitely not. She ghosted me. I was the last one to text her. She kept it on read, but never responded. I figured that was it.
Aleeza: Is it possible that your recollection of the relationship isn’t the same as hers?
Jay: It wasn’t a relationship. I always wondered if she was more into my friends than me.
I clearly need to speak to Emma Coffey.
Aleeza: Who else might be the Birdwatcher? The other three girls maybe? What are their names?
After a few seconds, he sends me three names. I don’t know any of them, but I jot them down in my notebook.
Aleeza: Why did you tell them you didn’t want a commitment?
Jay: Are you asking me the actual reason I don’t want a commitment, or the reason I told them?
Aleeza: The second one. Actually, both.
I don’t know if I have the right to ask for the actual reason, but I want to understand him better. And ... I’m curious.
Jay: I didn’t give them a reason. It’s not their business. I told them all—before sex by the way—that I wasn’t looking for anything serious.
Aleeza: Has anyone ever backed out after you said it? Put their clothes back on and said all right, I’m out.
Jay: No.
That does not surprise me one bit. I wouldn’t walk away. I have no idea why this is all annoying me so much. Or if he can tell how irritated I am at him. One thing is clear—Jay Hoque and I are from completely different worlds.
Aleeza: Okay what’s the real reason? Why are you such a commitment-phobe?
Jay: I don’t know. I don’t think I’m a commitment-phobe. Like I’m not scared or anything. I’m just not wired that way.
Aleeza: You don’t want to settle down with someone?
Jay: No, do you?
Aleeza: Well, not now, but yeah, eventually.
Jay: Husband, mortgage, and 2.5 kids. Or wife.
Aleeza: I’m straight. But isn’t all that—a family and a home, what everyone wants? Isn’t that the dream?
Jay: You’re a little naive, Roomie. Where are you from anyway?
Aleeza: Why does that matter?
Jay: It doesn’t. But we’re roommates. We should know about each other, right?
Aleeza : I was born in Toronto, but I grew up in Alderville. It’s a small town east of here on the Bay of Quinte.
Jay: I know it. Super white. My mom’s boss loaned us her cottage about twenty minutes from Alderville once. Amazing food around there. What was it like growing up in a tourist town?
Aleeza: It was fine.
It wasn’t always, but I don’t want to get into it.
Jay: I think you’ll change after you’ve been in the city longer. You have a boyfriend out there in your cute, small town?
Aleeza: I did. We broke up before I started university.
Jay: Proves my point.
Aleeza: What point does that prove? And what does a small town have to do with you being afraid of commitment?
Jay: My mom used to hang out in one of those all-white communities. Finding a happily ever after in a place you’re not supposed to be in is nearly impossible.
Aleeza: Are you saying I wasn’t supposed to be in Alderville, or you’re not supposed to be here at TCU?
Jay: Both. Neither.
Aleeza: You make no sense. Anyway, my parents are still happily married. And in Alderville.
Jay: I’ll bet they are. What do they do?
Aleeza: Mom’s a librarian. Dad’s an IT consultant.
Jay: Sounds idyllic.
I exhale. I don’t know why talking to Jay makes me feel exactly like I did the first time I took the subway alone in Toronto. Like everyone knows the unwritten etiquette that I’m clueless about. It’s probably not that necessary to get into all this personal stuff anyway.
Aleeza: I think I have enough to start with for now. I’ll talk to campus police and Gracie and let you know what they say.
Jay: Okay. Should we meet here tomorrow at eight again?
Aleeza: Okay. That works.
Jay: Bye Roomie.
Aleeza: Good night, Jay.