22. Spring Break #3
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Doing?”
“You came back early?” he says.
“Oh yeah, I did. I was home with my parents and it was just… a lot. So, yeah, I came back early.”
Her voice is thick and slurred. Is she drunk? Rhode wonders. “What were you doing in North?” he asks.
“Oh, well, I… I was bored and I went for a walk and that’s where I ended up. When I heard you, I got scared and I hid. I thought maybe you were Mr. James. I did not want to get caught in a dark hallway with that dude.” She smiles. “Sorry I ran.”
“How did you get into the dorm?” Rhode asks. “Wasn’t it locked?”
“It was locked, but my key card worked.”
“It did ?”
“I mean, yeah, how else would I have gotten in?”
Rhode doesn’t have an answer to this, but there’s no way Simone’s key card worked at North.
The key cards are stringently building-specific, otherwise the kids would be sneaking into the other dorm nonstop.
This was also true of the faculty’s key cards—to ward off parents’ concerns about male faculty members randomly entering their daughters’ dorms. The only people with full access to Classic North and South were Audre Robinson, Cordelia Spooner, and Mr. James.
“Let me walk you back to South,” he says.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Rhode says. “I’ll help you fend off Mr. James.”
As they amble over to Classic South, Rhode wonders if this is his chance. They’re all alone on campus.
“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” he asks. “We can get lunch, or go to the movies?”
“Thanks,” Simone says, “but I have a lot of prep work.”
When she goes to swipe her key card, Rhode grabs her by the wrist. “Let me try mine,” he says. He waves his key card in front of the pad. A red light flashes and emits an angry burping noise. Access denied. “Hmmm, that’s interesting. You’re sure your card worked in North?”
“It did, yes, Rhode,” Simone says snippily. She flashes her own key card and gets past the other side of the door, pulling it closed behind her as though Rhode is some kind of predator. She doesn’t wave or anything.
It did, yes, Rhode, Rhode mimics as he walks back to Classic North.
When he gets to his room, everything is in order, but he can’t help feeling something is amiss.
Simone was just out for a walk, and ended up in the hall of the boys’ dorm ?
Was she checking the rooms for cash, valuables, contraband ?
Did she find someone’s hidden flask? Because she was definitely intoxicated.
Rhode decides to do his own walkabout, floor by floor. The dorm has been cleaned over break; each hallway smells like artificial pine.
It’s only when Rhode reaches the sixth floor that he sees a light and hears faint strains of a Tame Impala song. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; deep down, Rhode knew Simone’s presence in the building had something to do with Andrew Eastman.
Rhode knocks, thinking, You are so busted, buddy.
But when East opens the door, he’s as chill as ever; he has a copy of Demon Copperhead in one hand. Over East’s shoulder, Rhode sees a neatly made bed; the pillow holds the soft indentation of someone who was lying down reading.
The desk and dresser are clear, the trash is empty.
“Hey, Mr. Rivera,” East says. “You just get back?”
“I did.” Rhode clears his throat. “What are you doing here? Students aren’t supposed to return yet.”
“Yeah, I know,” East says. “I was out in LA with my mom, but it’s a long break, so we mutually decided I should come back early.”
“Ah, okay…?”
“My mom told the school, I think?” East says. “Or she told my dad and my dad told Ms. Robinson, I’m not sure which. But yeah, I’ve just been chilling. I have a truck here so I’ve been hitting KFC pretty hard.”
Why does Rhode always feel so off-balance around this kid? Maybe because East reminds Rhode of the guys at Tiffin twenty-some years earlier who intimidated him: Todd Littman, who defined BMOC, and Curt Barker, who mercilessly teased Rhode about being a virgin.
“Have you seen Miss Bergeron?” Rhode asks. “Since you’ve been back? Was she… here tonight?”
A bland, baffled expression crosses East’s face. “Miss Bergeron? Nope, haven’t seen her.”
Rhode holds East’s gaze. Is the kid lying? There’s no way to tell.
But then, Rhode sees something on the floor over by the foot of East’s bed: a wine cork.
“Excuse me,” Rhode says, and he nudges past East to pick the cork up. “What is this ?”
East gives Rhode his seductive half smile. “It’s a cork.”
“What is a wine cork doing on the floor of your bedroom?” Rhode asks, though he knows. Obviously! Simone was up here drinking wine with East—and maybe more than that. It’s no wonder Simone lost her floor fellow position at McGill.
“It must have fallen out of my duffel,” East says, reclaiming the cork from Rhode. “My mom and I went to Pasjoli in Santa Monica. Have you ever eaten there?”
“No,” Rhode says. He’s never been to LA, though there was, for a hot minute, talk of adapting The Prince of Little Twelfth into a feature film. But that had died on the vine.
“Well, you should,” East says. He palms the cork. “Thanks for checking in, Mr. Rivera. If you need me to run you to the market tomorrow for provisions, just let me know.”
Rhode thinks, I will not be distracted by your charming use of the words “market” and “provisions”! I know you’re lying to me. I just can’t prove it.
“Thanks,” Rhode says. He has no option but to leave.
The instant he gets back to his room, he texts Simone: Guess who else is back early? Andrew Eastman! Hard to believe you didn’t bump into him when you were prowling around North. Rhode adds the head-scratching emoji.
Three dots rise, then disappear, which is all the confirmation Rhode needs. Simone’s key card didn’t work at Classic North. East let her in and they drank wine!
Rhode may not be justified in calling Simone a bitch—if she doesn’t like him, she doesn’t like him—but he feels just fine calling her a liar.