Chapter 6
SIX
DAISY
Me
There’s not enough caffeine in the world to keep me awake today
Willa
Next time you should volunteer yourself as tribute…
If you’re going to be sleep deprived, might as well make it worth it
“Do you have anything going on after this?” Vanessa asks, when the teaching assistant in charge of our study group dismisses us.
I don’t have any other classes as part of my placement, but taking at least one course was the only way I could convince Colorado State to defer my spring semester until next year.
Creative Writing 101 seemed like the perfect choice, even if it’s mostly taught by a teaching assistant who–according to Vanessa–spends more time talking about his own manuscript than anything else.
I slide my laptop into my backpack and check the time on my phone. “I’m meeting Tarah in an hour.”
“Perfect, you’ve got just enough time.”
“Time for what?” I ask, following her out of the Bronte Lecture Hall.
All of the rooms in the Southbay art department are named after prominent women artists throughout history. The thought of how many men it probably pisses off on a daily basis is enough to make me love it.
She swings her bag over her shoulder and grins back at me over her shoulder. “You’ll see. Follow me.”
Vanessa leads the way out of the literature building and across the quad to the library. The doors slide open as we approach.
“Where are we going?” I ask, when Vanessa leads me straight to the elevators. She presses the button for the sixth floor of the library like her life depends on it.
I eye the directory trying to figure out why she’s taking me to the physics floor when neither of us are majoring in STEM.
The doors slide shut and she turns to face me, the movement so fast that her hair whips around her. “First you have to promise me that you won’t repeat any of what I’m about to show you.”
“Should I be concerned? Are you researching how to dissolve a body or something?”
She rolls her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching upwards. “As if I would do that so publicly.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“I solemnly swear I’m not a serial killer or assisting one. Now promise.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Even if I wanted to, the list of people I know here is too short to really count.
“Perfect,” she chirps, just as the doors slide open on the sixth floor.
I follow her out of the elevator and into the stairway, taking two steps at a time behind her as she quickly ascends the stairs.
“There’s another floor?”
“Most people don’t know it exists because the elevator only goes to the sixth floor. It’s the perfect place to hide out,” she says, stepping onto the landing of the seventh floor.
She ignores the “no trespassing” and pulls the door to the floor open.
I glance at the sign next to the door. “I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here.”
“Don’t worry about that. I put up the sign.”
“You did?”
“The perks of working the weekend shift here.” She grins, stepping through the door. “Besides it’s not like anyone comes up here in the first place.”
The open concept floor is set up with groupings of study tables and lounge furniture. The entire left side of the wall is a complete window concept overlooking most of Southbay in the distance.
“Wow.”
“It’s pretty cool, right?”
“I can’t believe no one else have found this.”
“Students are lazy. If there’s no elevator taking them straight there, most people will ditch the two sets of stairs and just settle for a corner table somewhere between a book stack.”
There is a perfect view of the city from up here, the bay area stretching wide beyond it. I imagine myself curling up with my laptop in one of the chairs, getting lost in a story with the city as my only background.
“That’s the waterfront down there,” she says, pointing towards the stretch of dark blue in the horizon. “On clear summer days you can see the ships coming in from miles away.”
“It’s so peaceful up here.”
She hums her agreement. “I come up here most days to study, but I end up just watching the water instead.”
“I could get used to this.”
“You can come up here anytime you want. No one will bother you apart from the cleaners when they remember it exists.”
“Vee, are you up here?”
I tense at the sound of the door to the stairway creaking open.
“Don’t worry, it’s just Lauren.”
"I think this semester is going to be the end of me.” Someone—Lauren, I assume—calls and I glance over my shoulder to see a petite girl striding towards us, her brown ponytail swinging wildly behind her with every step.
“You say that every year,” Vanessa laughs, as Lauren falls into the chair next to her.
She sets her backpack down on the floor beside her with a heavy thud and lets her head fall back against the couch. She turns in the direction of Vanessa, but her attention lands on me instead.
She gasps dramatically, wiping her head around to look at Vanessa. “You brought someone new to your most sacred hiding spot? Should I be worried you’re replacing me as your best friend?”
“Don’t give me any good ideas,” Vanessa jokes before gesturing towards me. “This is Daisy. She’s on loan from Colorado State. Daisy, Lauren.”
Lauren raises a brow. “On loan?”
“I’m on placement with Tarah Striker.”
“You won the mentorship with Striker?” She gapes at me. “Holy shit, you must be really good. I can barely string a sentence together without banging my head against the table.”
“Lauren is a STEM major.”
“Words aren’t my specialty, but I can mix you a poison if you ever need it.” She winks.
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
“So what do you think of Southbay so far?”
“I haven’t had a chance to explore much. Without a car to get around, the snow has kept me inside mostly.”
“Didn’t want to ask Connor for a ride?” Vanessa snickers.
Lauren gasps. “You’re Connor’s new roommate?”
“Unfortunately.” I grimace. “Don’t be surprised if you find me sleeping here from now on.”
“You might want to invest in a sleep mask. The light sensors are a bitch when you’re trying to nap.”
“Let me know if you ever need a ride anywhere,” Vanessa offers.
“We should take her to Sip-N-Paint,” Lauren exclaims, before I can say anything.
“Ohmygod, I love that place. Imagine pottery painting with an unlimited bar. As long as you’re painting, they’re pouring.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“Very dangerous, but so fun.” Vanessa grins, flicking her hair over one shoulder. “Plus, it’s a great creative outlet.”
Lauren snorts. “I’m not sure Finn agrees.”
“He loves the mug I made him last year.”
“Of course he loves it. You painted best hockey player ever on it.”
“If the shoe fits.” She beams.
“I’m sure the rest of the guys agree.”
“They keep stealing it.” Vanesa frowns, then turns to me to add, “Finn lives in a house off campus with four of the guys from his team. They get a little competitive sometimes.”
Lauren snorts. “Just a little?”
“Okay a lot. They all texted me over Christmas asking who my favorite players was,” she laughs. “Finn was pissed when I remained neutral.”
“I would’ve paid money to see that!” Lauren gasps.
“I’ll let you play referee next time.”
“No thanks, I still haven’t recovered from the time Tanner asks me to judge who had the nicest ass out of all of them.”
“They sound like a handful,” I laugh.
“Every single one of them,” Vanessa agrees. “You should come to a game one day. You would love it.”
“Sure,” I tell her, just as the alarm on my phone goes off for my meeting with Tarah. “I should go or I’ll be late.”
“Good luck!”