Chapter 8 – Haley
Wednesday morning, when I meet up with Layla and Jasmine for our history class, we sit together like we did before, with Layla in the aisle seat so Jason can keep an eye on her. Like before, I’m sitting between Layla and Jasmine.
Halfway through the class, I realize something’s wrong with Layla when she pulls her earbuds out of her hoodie pocket with shaking fingers and shoves them into her ears. She fiddles with her phone, presumably starting her playlist.
She abruptly shoves her tablet and digital pencil into her book bag. Then she clutches the armrests of her seat, holding on so tightly her knuckles are turning white. She closes her eyes as if she’s concentrating on the music and trying to shut everything else out. Her posture is stiff as a board.
My heart breaks for Layla. No one should suffer like this. I nudge Jasmine, who automatically looks over at Layla and frowns.
Before we even attempt to get Jason’s attention, he’s there at Layla’s side, crouching in the aisle beside her. As he peels her fingers from their death grips on the armrests, she opens her eyes and meets his concerned gaze. Jason hands me Layla’s audio recorder and nods toward the lecturer.
I nod, realizing he’s asking me to record the rest of the lecture for her. Then he stands, takes Layla’s hand, and walks her out of the lecture hall.
I glance at Jasmine, but she doesn’t seem overly concerned. I imagine this has happened before.
“She’ll be okay,” Jasmine whispers. “They’ll wait for us out in the hall.”
For the rest of the class, I balance Layla’s audio recorder on the arm of my seat, while I take notes on my tablet.
Poor Layla. I had no idea her hallucinations interfered so much in her daily life.
It’s no wonder she needs Jason with her.
It can happen anywhere, and when it does, she’s so vulnerable.
When class ends, Jasmine and I shuffle out the door amidst a throng of students. We spot Jason almost immediately as he waves at us from a bench where he and Layla are sitting. He’s got his arm around Layla, and she’s leaning against him. She looks exhausted.
“Here’s your recorder,” I say as I hand her the small device.
Jason takes the recorder from Layla and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “I’m afraid we’d better pass on lunch today, ladies. I want to take Layla home.”
“Sorry about skipping out on you,” Layla says. “It just got to be too much.”
I sit beside her on the bench, and when Jason releases her, I put my arm across her shoulders. “You don’t ever have to apologize, Layla.”
“Is it better now?” Jasmine asks her.
Layla nods, but she doesn’t say anything. She really does look wiped out.
We stay with her a few more minutes, just to make sure she’s okay. Before we part ways, she asks, “Are you guys free Friday night? We’d like to invite you over for dinner. Philip and Liam, too, of course.”
“I think we’d love to,” I say.
Layla smiles. “Thanks. Jason and I have something special we want to discuss with you guys.”
After we part ways, I make my way across campus to the cafeteria to get something for lunch. I grab a burger, fries, and a soft drink. Not long after I find an available table and sit to eat, Mark Hoffman sits down across the table from me.
He pulls out his laptop and makes himself at home. “How’s it going?”
“Fine.” I keep my eyes on my food, hoping he’ll get the hint and leave. This guy is seriously lacking in the emotional intelligence department.
In this huge cafeteria, why does he have to sit near me? Can’t he take a hint? I’m not interested.
“Your food looks good,” he says. “I had a big breakfast this morning, so I’m not hungry.” When I don’t reply, he says, “Would you like to go over our lab instructions for this afternoon?”
“I’ve already done that lab. I know what to do.”
“Oh. Okay.” He just sits there. One minute he’s typing on his laptop, and the next he’s watching me eat. “So, how long have you and what’s his name been together?”
“His name is Philip.” I’m eating as fast as I can so I can get out of here.
“Okay then. How long have you and Philip been together?”
“For over a year,” I say.
Officially, Philip and I have been dating for about three months. But we met over a year ago, and from the moment we met there was an undeniable connection between us. Even if we couldn’t be alone together, emotionally we were already dating.
“He’s older than you are.”
“A little bit.”
“What does he do for a living?”
“He’s in security.”
“Like a security guard?”
“Not exactly. He’s in electronic surveillance.”
“Did he go to college?”
I nod, even though it’s none of Mark’s business. “He has a degree in computer science.”
“Huh.” Mark turns his attention back to his laptop for a moment. Eventually, he says, “You’re young, Haley. You should keep your options open. Don’t just settle for the first guy you meet. There’s a wide pool of guys for you to choose from. Guys with really bright futures.”
I hate hearing him disparage Philip. Mark knows absolutely nothing about him.
I can’t eat another bite, so I stand. “I’ve got to run now. I’ll see you in class.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
I find a quiet place to sit outside and review my chem lab notes for today’s experiments. When I get to class, Mark is already there, seated at our table. Ms. Davis is passing out the report templates we’ll use to document our experiments and write our conclusions.
“Your completed report is due Friday,” she says to the class. “Work as a team. Participation is a large percentage of your grade.”
I focus on the assignment and discourage chit-chat with Mark.
When the class is over, he follows me out into the hallway. “How about we go grab a private study room at the library to work on our report? It’s due in two days, so we don’t have a lot of time.”
I really want to say no, but he’s got a point. We’ll have to meet up sometime either today or tomorrow to get it done on time. I might as well get this over with. “All right.”
He looks surprised. “Awesome. Let’s go.”
We walk across the central courtyard to the library and find an available study room.
There’s just a table with four chairs in here.
It’s hardly bigger than a closet. We take our seats and spread out our notes and report template on the table.
It’s not going to take long to complete the lab report, but it needs to be done right.
It’s a short report, so we’re done in about an hour.
Mark leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It wasn’t,” I agree. “Thanks.”
“Do you have plans for dinner tonight? Would you like to go into town with me and get something? Just as friends, of course.”
This guy just won’t give up. “No, thanks. I’ve got too much homework.”
He frowns. “Our dorm is sponsoring a Game Night Friday evening. Are you planning to attend?”
“Nope. I already have plans Friday night.” Thank you, Layla.
He gathers up his class materials. “With your boyfriend?”
“Yes.”
“Your loss,” he says as he shoves his things into his backpack. “I guess I’ll see you in class Friday.” And then he walks away.
On my way back to the dorm, I stop at the student union to grab a yogurt and I find a seat outside and eat it on the green. As I watch all the students coming and going, I feel such a sense of freedom.
College is nothing like high school, where students are put under a pretty strict schedule and herded from class to class like cattle. This is totally different. We make our own schedules. It’s a whole different vibe, and I love it.
Back at my dorm, I dig my keychain out of my purse and unlock the door. When I step inside and flip on the light switch, I notice there’s a sheet of paper at my feet. It’s another one of those flyers for Friday’s Game Night. Someone must have slipped it under the door.
There’s a handwritten note on it in small capital letters.
I HOPE TO SEE YOU THERE, HALEY.
My heart skips a beat when I see my name written on the flyer. There’s no signature, though, so I have no idea who left this for me.
I wad up the sheet of paper and throw it in the trash can.
* * *
That night, I call all my parents. First my dad and Erin.
They want to know all about my classes and how I like the dorm.
I tell them everything’s great, of course.
I don’t tell them about creepy Mark or the anonymous note written on the Game Night flyer.
I don’t want to give them any reason to worry about me.
After I talk to my dad, I call my mom and Dave. They ask me the same questions, and I give them the same answers. I hate keeping things from my parents, but I know they’ll worry like crazy if I tell them, so I keep it to myself.
My last phone call is to Philip. I know hearing his voice will make me forget about everything else.
“Hey, babe. How’s it going?” He’s breathing hard.
“It sounds like you’re busy. Should I call back later?”
“No! I’m done anyway. Today was shoulder day, and then, because I wasn’t sore enough, I ran five miles on the treadmill. I just need some water.” He guzzles what sounds like an entire water bottle.
“Do you need to grab a shower now?”
“It can wait. I’d rather talk to you.”
He asks me about my day. I tell him about Layla’s incident in our history class. I leave out any mention of Mark and the flyer. “What about you? How was your day?”
“Much less eventful than yesterday, that’s for sure.”
“Hey, before I forget, Layla and Jason invited us over to their place Friday evening for dinner. Jasmine and Liam, too. She said there’s something they want to talk to us about.”
“Sounds great.”
“So, it’s okay if I tell them we’ll be there?”
“Sure. I’ll stop by your dorm Friday and pick you up.”
We chat for a while, and then I tell him I’d better get off the phone to do homework.
“I’ll see you Friday,” Philip says. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“As soon as you can.”
“I’ll need to shower after work, so how about six?”
“Perfect. It’s a date.”
“You bet it is. I’ll see you then.”