She Has A Broken Thing Where Her Heart Should Be - J.D. Barker Page 0,128

of them would inevitably cross that invisible barrier and find their way over to me. I suppose I was a good-looking guy, probably seen as some kind of challenge to them, off in my isolated corner. Damn near every girl reminded me of Stella, though. The ones who didn’t reminded me of Gerdy, and that hurt just as bad, sometimes worse.

This girl said her name was Kaylie. She wore a flowered sundress over black tights and under a denim jacket. Her hair was strawberry blonde and curled under just above her shoulders.

More Gerdy than Stella.

A doctoral student working on her PhD in psych, she told me when she first introduced herself.

An unknown beverage sloshed around in her red Solo cup.

I took a drink of my Pepsi. “You don’t want to hypnotize me. I’m boring.”

“You don’t look boring. You’ve got this brooding, James Dean thing going on.”

“James Dean, huh?”

“Totally. A rebel for sure.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t be talking to me. What if I’m dangerous?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you dangerous?”

Everyone I care about seems to die, so yeah, probably.

“Are you any good at it?” I said.

“At what?”

“Hypnosis.”

She shrugged. “My roommates say I am. Professor McDougal said I’m the best he’s had in his class in a decade, but I think he’s just trying to get in my pants.”

“You’re not wearing pants.”

She looked down at her legs and processed this information in that slow way drunk people do. Then she looked back at me and smiled. “Nope. No pants.”

I spotted Willy across the crowd, watching me. He gave me a thumbs-up and nodded vigorously.

“I should probably get home,” I said, glancing in the direction of my apartment.

“You can’t leave until the snow is gone, that’s the rule.”

“Well, you did say I was a rebel.”

“Please let me hypnotize you.”

“What do you think you’ll learn?”

She tilted her head. Some of whatever was in her cup spilled over the side and landed on my shoe. “For starters, why you’re at a party and you’re not drinking.”

“Maybe I’m not very good at it.”

She stepped closer and took a drink. This time, I smelled the rum. “It’s not that hard.”

“You’re not doing it right, either. You’re drinking rum at a keg party.”

She brought a single finger to her lips and smiled. “Shh. Maybe I’m a rebel…too.”

Willy was still watching, and I wondered if he’d phone Matteo tonight to report in or hold off until morning. He would at some point.

I counted at least twelve people wearing white coats.

“Do you live on campus?” I asked her.

She nodded to the left. “East Residences.”

“How about I walk you home,” I said.

“Okay.”

Apparently, the melting snow had been forgotten.

Kaylie and I crossed the quad and took a shortcut past the tennis courts. At some point, her hand found mine.

She lived in Geary Hall on the second floor.

She fumbled with the lock, pushed the door open, and stumbled in, falling on a bed to the left. Her roommates weren’t home.

I turned on the light, closed the door, and helped her out of her shoes and jacket. Her cup of rum disappeared somewhere along the walk. I hadn’t noticed her drop it or set it down.

I could have slept with her, but I didn’t.

Instead, I waited until she fell asleep, then turned her on her side. A quilt was bunched up at the foot of the bed. I pulled it over her shoulders and tucked her in.

The walk back to my apartment on Mifflin should have taken about twenty minutes, but I didn’t get back until around four in the morning. Willy’s door was closed. I could hear him snoring.

There was an envelope on my bed.

The envelope wasn’t thick enough to contain cash, and unlike the others, this one had my mailing address printed neatly on the front with a canceled stamp postmarked Pittsburgh, PA. The return address was Matteo’s office. Inside, I found a folded letter along with a smaller envelope:

Jack,

Dewitt asked me to send this to you. Your aunt left it for you before she died, with instructions to give it to you on your eighteenth birthday. I apologize for the delay, completely my fault—he dropped it on my desk with a Post-it note on the top, and it got buried before I saw it—you’ve seen my desk! (I’m working on it. I swear!) If he’d hand me things instead of…sorry, I’m sure you don’t care. Again, I apologize for the delay.

Hope you’re kicking some butt at Penn! Go, Lions!

Sincerely,

Tess

Dewitt? I chuckled. I had completely forgotten Matteo’s first name was Dewitt.

I dropped the