CHAPTER 5
I should’ve been studying for my online physics exam.
Definitely not Googling Dracadia University.
Especially since it wasn’t a possibility for me.
Being at a university that far away, with a full-time schedule, would mean not being able to cover half of Bee’s tuition.
Not only that, but Conner would definitely freak out if I’d told him I couldn’t cover my share of the rent anymore.
He’d undoubtedly throw Bee’s tuition in my face, and pull her right out of Bright Horizons.
Clicking on the images of the university hurt, though.
Nestled on an island, the school had once been an old monastery for clergymen–a place predominantly built for religious study.
While it appeared that a few newer buildings had been added to the campus, it maintained the same overall look of the gothic academic architecture seen at old schools like Harvard and Yale.
The enormous building I’d seen in Professor Wilkins’ picture sat on a steep cliff, as if the foundation itself had been built into the rock formation.
It looked to be centuries old, with its lichen-covered stones and intricately carved masonry rarely seen nowadays.
A stone wall separated the campus from the surrounding woods, and what looked like a small town sat in the foothills of the cliff. The campus reminded me of something out of Dead Poets Society . Rich with tradition, opportunity.
A dream.
One too far out of reach for me.
For kicks, though, I entered the admissions address into the search bar and logged in with the temporary credentials provided to me in the letter.
There, on the screen, was an account already set up for me, just as Dean Langmore had mentioned–a profile lacking an image, but a number sequence had been assigned, and all of my general information had already been populated.
Below my name, a button to register for classes taunted me to click it.
I checked the URL again against the one I’d Googled. Everything seemed legit.
Unfortunately, I had too much on my plate.
With a sigh, I clicked out of the search and eased back into my chair, staring up at the painting of the tree and the swing and the vast ocean beyond it. Somehow, it captured my sense of longing right then.
“I wish you were here, Mama,” I whispered to myself.
“I could really use your advice right now.” When I wasn’t occasionally spotting ghostly visions of her, I’d sometimes hear her in my head.
That soft-spoken voice which cracked any time she’d tried to yell at me and Bee.
I smiled at the memory of laughing whenever she’d gotten mad at us and that gentle voice had failed to intimidate.
Leaning forward again, I pulled up the search bar and typed in Noctisoma . Now that I finally had a name, perhaps the internet might offer more information.
A few medical studies popped up through Medscape, but when I clicked, it only offered a brief synopsis–nothing in-depth, or accessible to me without the proper login credentials.
I pulled up the CDC website and typed the parasite there.
Only a data report for a Geneva conference had listed it amongst pages and pages of other parasites.
There was literally nothing .
To be thorough, I typed in black worms and Dracadia University .
The first article to populate the screen was from a Dracadian Gazette , dated only a few weeks ago, whose headline read: Homeless Woman Assaults Provost With Intent To Kill .
It went on to describe a woman believed to be named Andrea Kepling, who’d been living in one of the abandoned houses on the island and had broken into the home of a Dr. Lippincott, the Provost of Dracadia University.
Armed with a pickaxe, she’d accused him of putting worms in her belly, according to Lippincott’s wife, who’d witnessed the attack.
I paused there. At the peak of my mother’s illness, she’d accused me of putting something inside of her, too.
Infecting her intentionally. Those had been the times when her eyes had turned spacey, her pupils blown.
They’d been the times she’d looked positively feral enough to kill me.
I couldn’t imagine having someone break into my home in that state. With a pickaxe, no less.
Apparently, the woman had managed to wound Lippincott’s leg, but escaped before authorities arrived.
The associated police sketch of Andrea didn’t look like a criminal, though. In some ways, she reminded me of my mother, with her long hair and weary eyes.
At a knock on the door, I groaned and closed my laptop. “I’m studying.”
“Just need to chat for a second,” Conner’s muffled voice said from the other side of the door.
“Fine. A second.”
He cracked the door open and peeked inside before stepping into the room.
“Hey, ah …” Rubbing his hands together, he cleared his throat.
“I know that things have been pretty hard for you lately. And, uh … you know, you could’ve left a long time ago.
But you hung around here and helped with Bee …
and I know …. I know you didn’t have to do that. ”
I didn’t like where this might be going. Conner rarely acknowledged my contributions. If anything, he often criticized me for turning down extra shifts at the hospital–shifts I’d reluctantly turned down to get some studying in.
“I want to make things easier on you.”
Definitely didn’t like where it might be going. That wasn’t Conner. Conner was a blue-collar who’d lectured me at sixteen years old that nothing in life was free. Something was amiss. “Okay.”
“We’ve talked about this before …” The moment his hand raised to rub the back of his neck and his gaze fell from mine, I knew exactly what he was going to say, and I breathed a sigh.
“I know. You want to rent out Mom’s old room.” I supposed it was out of respect for me and Bee that he hadn’t yet, and I’d appreciated that for a number of years. Struggling for the sake of her memory didn’t make sense, though. It’d been long enough. “It’s fine.”
“You’re sure, kid? I mean … you know, I could wait a little bit longer.”
“No,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “We need the money.” In the pause that followed, I glanced up to see him picking at his fingers, seemingly anxious. Maybe he’d been nervous to ask me about the room. I was nervous, too. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, shoot.”
“Remember after my mom died, I told you about–”
“The worms. Yeah. I remember.” Brows furrowed, he lowered his gaze. “I don’t …. I don’t blame you, kid, that was a pretty rough scene with your mom bleeding out everywhere.”
“You’re sure you didn’t see anything in the tub?” I’d always found it strange how vividly that visual remained in my head for something that hadn’t actually happened.
“Why are you asking me this?” An air of suspicion bled through his voice. “You read the coroner’s report, Lil. The autopsy. Multiple times. It’s all there.”
Sighing, I slouched back in my chair. I had, but Professor Wilkins had also said that not all physicians were aware of the organism as a human pathogen. Perhaps they’d missed it in autopsy. “I know. I just … thought maybe you’d seen something else.”
“Everything I saw is detailed in that report,” he said. “You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. I just miss her.” There was no point in arguing with him. He supposedly hadn’t seen what I’d seen. Maybe the blood had darkened the water too much. Maybe all of the worms had gotten down the drain somehow.
“Yeah.” He let out a long exhale and cleared his throat. “So, uh. What would you say if I asked Angelo to come stay here?”
A turbulent dread curled through my stomach as my mood quickly shifted, and I shook my head. “You’re not serious, are you?”
“I just figured he’s over here all the time. And he’s living in that shithole down on Sumler.”
“No. No! C’mon, Conner! Seriously?”
“He’s my best friend, Lilia.” He ran his hands through his hair, the stress etched into his expression more apparent to me in that moment.
Fingers clutching the pillows around me, I stifled the urge to throw something across the room at him. “The guy’s a creep, Conner. You know he cornered me the last time he was here, and basically threatened to kill me.”
With a dismissive wave, he shook his head. “Nah. He wouldn’t do that. He’s just a dick, is all.”
“That is not a dick. That’s a goddamn predator!”
Hands splayed to the side, he shrugged. “’The fuck do you want me to do, Lilia? Huh?”
“Tell him hell, no ! That’s what I want. He’s a freak.”
“Who could help with the fucking bills! I’m drowning here!”
“I’m not opposed to a roommate, but not Angelo. Please. I still have to live here and work!”
“And I work, too!” The way he thumped his finger into his chest gave off the caveman vibes I loathed. “I work, and this fucking apartment is in my name. So, I get to say who lives here!”
The one thing that I wish my mother would’ve thought through a bit more before her death. Not that she’d had a lot of choices–I’d only been sixteen at the time, and certainly couldn’t have had the apartment in my name. But adding Conner had made for some really tense and frustrating situations.
“It’d be a fuck of a lot easier around here,” he said.
“And what happens when Bee comes home for the holidays? You really want her around him? You think that’s good for her mental health?”
“Bee is fine! She doesn’t need a fucking quack school and therapists. She needs friends! A life!”
The rage exploded inside of me, and I shot to my feet, hands balled to tight fists at my sides.
“She has a life. And friends! She’s doing better because she’s finally getting the help she needs!
Someone is finally listening to her. And now you want to destroy that by inviting Angelo The Creep over for slumber parties!
He’s a loser, Conner. You need to ditch him before he gets us wrapped up in something dangerous! ”
“He saved my fucking life!”