killer wants to go to college by elizabeth shawnessey

8/2/2019 Killer Wants to Go to College by Elizabeth Shawnessey

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SUPERNATURAL KILLER WANTS TO GO TO COLLEGE

ELIZABETH SHAWNESSEY 1


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HISTORIANS NOTE:

This novel takes place between the season oneepisodes of Hell House and Something Wicked.

AUTHORS NOTE:

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the

authors imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be considered real. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely

coincidental. Additionally, the characters of Sam, Dean, and John Winchester belong wholly

to creator Eric Kripke, his writing staff, the actors who portray them, and the CW Network.

The character of Amy Winchester is of the authors creation and copyrighted accordingly.


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Copyright Elizabeth Shawnessey, 2012


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PROLOGUE

DuPonte HouseNew Haven, Connecticut

Wednesday, August 30, 200611:18 PM

The DuPonte House, sitting deserted on the corner of George Street and Sherman Avenue,was thriving with music that was sure to drive the neighbors nestled in their surrounding,elaborate Victorian homes crazy. However, the owners of the house, the sons of a high-powered lawyer who let his kids get away with whatever they wanted, were unconcernedwith how much noise they were making, even after keeping in mind that they werethrowing their annual beginning-of-the-year party smack-dab in the middle of the week.

Chase DuPonte and his brother, Charles, fluttered between crowds of collegestudents, most from Yale while others had come from University of Connecticut andSouthern Connecticut statethe latter of which being avoided by the prestigious schoolcrowd due to the fact that even a monkey could get into SCUmaking their rounds,shaking hands or exchanging kisses with the attendees. As Charles slipped in and out ofthrongs of girls talking with each other in corners, boys taking shots at the bar, and couplesthrusting against one another in the three-thousand-square-foot home, Chase stoppedbeside a cluster of co-eds discussing their course load, scoffing at them for worrying aboutschool when it had only started earlier that morning. Leaning toward one of the girls, anddraping his arm around her shoulders, Chase began to talk in length about skating throughhis final year at the university, hoping to achieve a degree that would satisfy his father andallow him to work at law firm Richard DuPonte owned once he graduated. Of course,though, this was all for show. The girl in which he chose to wrap his arm around knew thatwell, due to the fact that she had dated him for the greater part of her freshman year atYale.

Rachel Richardson always seemed to attract the scumbags, starting with her first

boyfriend in junior high school and continuing on until today. She had gone from RodneyWright in eighth grade to Adam Greene last year, both of which contesting for number-oneasshole. They had cheated on her, stepped on her, and all-around used her as though shewere nothing but a toy to be played with. With each break upnone of which being herfault since the boys seemed to head off the confrontation once they found out she knew shewas being cheated onshe had vowed to pick better men, or at least wait for someone tocome along on a white horse. But it appeared, clearly, that no matter how many times sheswore to herself that she was going to try something different, she always seemed to goback to the familiar.

Unfortunately, out of all the guys she dated, there had only been one that had stuckaround long after breaking it off. Chase DuPonte, who seemed about as entitled as his fatherand his lust for power, didnt seem to understand the word no, always showing up at

Rachels dorm room or her apartment in Cicero, Indiana to try to whisk her away on somepeculiar adventure. With every sudden appearance, she had always pushed him away, tellinghim that he needed to find a new hobby or something a bit more colorful, before slammingthe door shut in his face. Ultimately, though, all that seemed to do was present a challengeto the over-confident million-heir, causing him to spring his presence on her more often andpersist even more than the previous attempt. And it seemed, however, the more hecontinued to push, the less resistant she was to his pursuits.

Which was how she had wound up at his party. The past few days at school hadbeen nothing but stressful, with move-in day and the time-honored shopping week taking


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up most of her schedule. She had spent Monday and Tuesday trying to situate the suppliedfurniture in McClellan Hall into something functional, only to get into an argument with allthreeof her other roommates over whether or not the couch should be in the corner or thecenter of the room before placing it all back where it began, and earlier this morninghopping from class to class trying to find something that would fit into her schedule thatalso filled her graduation requirements. So far, she had only found one thing that seemed

interesting in a long line of structured lessons, Acting for Screen, but, regrettably, thecourse didnt mesh with her psychology major in any way. Deciding it wasnt worth takingup her elective space, she had decided that Thursday would be a better day to findsomething both geared toward her goal and intriguing. However, that was ifshe survivedthe DuPonte party first, and Chase seemed intent on making that difficult.

As he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, she was automatically disappointed inherself for agreeing to his proposal that she accompany him to his and his brothers party.Though Charles was, by far, a much better person than Chase, and probably wouldnt pesterher as much should she have chosen to go out with himand probably wouldnt havecheated on her with Stacy Miller, eitherRachel had agreed to go for Chases sake, makinga promise that she would stick around until midnight in case he needed someone to helppush the people out of his house. Though she knew his request was total bull, she also knewthat Chase was the best mojito maker in New Haven, meaning that she could down as manyof them as she wanted in between when she arrived at ten and when she slipped out ateleven. At the moment, she was working on her third drink, and even though she was awareof her ex-boyfriends hand on her arm, she couldnt be bothered to care.

He had caught her after her last sample class of the day, juggling through coursecatalogues and her mobile calendar as she tried to figure out what would fit into herschedule and where as she climbed the steps to her fifth floor dorm. The elevator had beenbroken due to some hefty guy on the level below trying to carry all of his electronicequipment up with him, meaning that everyone had to clamor up the stairs with heavybooks in their hands until it was fixed. It also meant that there was a possibility of runninginto Chase, who knew the resident advisor on the same floor as the elevator breaker. As shetried to hurry up the steps, attempting to look busy as she caught his football-player figureat the first threshold near the third-level landing, she noticed that he seemed to be waitingfor her as he stood in the archway, talking to someone who was tacking a new dry eraseboard to the door. Racing after her, he had blocked off the path to her floor, placing hishands on the railing to stop her in her tracks and only letting her pass once she agreed togo to his party. When he was gone, she swore to herself to show up late and leave early,despite her promise to stay until the witching hour started, and to come flocked withfriends.

Checking her watch as Chase continued on about his summer vacation in Bali,probably in some attempt to impress Taylor Rosen, another girl who stood in their group,Rachel caught herself glancing at her cheap Timex repeatedly, noticing that time seemed tostand still whenever she wasnt drinking. When Chase paused his elaborate story about thehouse his father had rented on a private island, the temple he had visited, and the hours hespent meditating with an Indonesian girl who was way hotter than anyone in this room,Rachel began sipping the air at the bottom of her mojito through her straw, hoping theannoying gurgling sound would signal Chase into making another. Ignoring her, hecontinued on, going off on a tall tale about his father buying an office complex near theocean to do business with foreign clients.

He has a lot of international interest, especially in Indonesia and Indochina. He getsa few Australian clients, some I wont mention right now, but its mainly in those two areas.I mean, I know he likes the United States, but why stop there, you know? Chase said,


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sipping his drink as he paused, realizing that his was empty as well. Money comes from allover, not just in the U-S-of-A. Sometimes foreign politicians and leaders will hire fromAmerica because we know how to fight dirty to get what we want, and they need that towin. Anyway, can I get any of you a drink? Maybe freshen you up?

Shaking her glass and letting the ice clatter together, Rachel placed her drink in hishand and waited for him to leave, feeling almost embarrassed that she had allowed him to

hold onto her while he went off on that spiel. However, after three, and soon four, rum-laceddrinks, she couldnt feel much of anything aside from tipsy. Smiling at her friends as theytalked amongst themselves about wanting to ditch Chase before he came back, probablytrying to keep Rachel out of the conversation in case she wanted to stay, she listened toTaylor as she kept her eyes on the front door, tracing a path through the crowd to find aquick exit. After a long moment, the two other girls beside her, Celia Brown and TracyRitter, turned to leave, glancing at Rachel before taking off.

You coming with? Taylor asked. Were going to go over to Matt Keisers.Apparently hes having some kind of thing at his house thats better than this.

Unfortunately, before she could reply, Chase returned with both of their drinks,looking surprised at the three girls in front of him attempting to abandon his party. As hetried to smooth-talk them into staying, attempting to sweeten the deal with access to the

make-out room upstairs, Rachel downed her drink in record time, letting the cold liquid hither teeth and cause her to squirm under the sensation. Making a mental note, that sheprobably wouldnt remember, to see a dentist sometime soon to ensure she didnt have somesort of cavity, Rachel watched her friends leave without her, dooming her to having toaccompany Chase around the room until she could find a way to slip out from under hisgrasp. Ultimately, though, that was going to be difficult, especially considering he wassteering her farther and farther away from the front door.

Thankfully, after fifteen minutes, she found her exit, following Chase into thebackyard and blending in with a crowd of girls she thought she recognized from one of herprior sociology classes. As she stood by, waiting for Chase to forget she was there while hedivulged the story about his trip to Bali with a new group of co-eds, she listened to theconversation around her, becoming bored with it as she finished the last of her drink and

threw the glass onto the grass.You have to consider the ramifications of free health care, one of the girls was

saying, pushing up her spectacles as she spoke. If it goes unchecked, the country wouldwind up billions of dollars more in debt. President Bush has already pushed the bill back asfar as it can go, but the democrats are still trying to get it passed. If we make everythingfree, how will other things be paid for? The national deficit is already at

Loudly scoffing, Rachel pushed her way past the group in front of her, feeling thefourth mojito hit her like a rock. As she staggered toward the gate leading out onto a busystreet, she wandered toward her car parked across the way, hoping no one was coming thatwould hit her or try to stop her from driving the two blocks back to campus. Opening thedoor to her white Infinity, she got behind the wheel, closing herself off and starting theengine. Everything in her line of vision was swirling a bit from the change of height, and asshe continued to watch the world shift in front of her, she felt her stomach began to squirm.Ignoring the feeling, she pulled her car away from the curb and headed slowly back towardthe student parking lot near McClellan Hall, keeping her fingers crossed that all the cops intown were busy patrolling the pubs in the area, probably hearing about the start-of-termcrawl taking place near Chapel Street.

Thankfully, as she pulled into one of the few stalls outside of the school, she foundthat she was practically alone, the place appearing deserted while she stumbled toward therolling plains of Old Campus. Under overhead lamps and the growing first-quarter moon,


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Rachel attempted to find her way through the labyrinth of cement, cobblestones, and brickbuildings, gracious when she had finally stammered into the heavy entrance door ofMcClellan Hall. Wrenching it open, she let the light consume the stone floors and wallspunctuated with polished wood doors adorned with dry-erase boards, each containing somekind of message for one of the four people inside.

The entire building was eerily silent as she headed toward the stairs near the back of

the long corridor, her shuffling feet echoing with each step. Reaching for the thick banisterof the stairs, Rachel paused a moment, wondering whether or not it had been wise for herfive-foot-four frame to take in that much alcohol after a dry summer at home. Realizing thatthere might be a lesson in there somewhere, hidden underneath the liquor and lime juice,Rachel scoffed at herself before laughing, not caring that her voice was even more boomingthan her steps. Shaking her head, she started up, stopping after a few minutes when sherecognized the fact that the task was becoming more difficult the more the room spun infront of her eyes. Feeling nauseated, she pressed her forehead against the concrete wall,sensing the coolness spreading throughout her body. When she felt better, she continuedup, grabbing her keys out of her front pocket the closer she got to the fifth floor.

By the time she got to the landing of the topmost level of McClellan Hall, Rachelwas certain she was going to vomit. The higher up she climbed, the less stationary things

seemed. The ground tilted, the walls rotated, and the air became balmy, reminding her ofthat time she had been in Texas for the Fourth of July. As she raced to her suite at the endof the corridor, throwing open the door and almost breaking the key, Rachel headedstraight for the bathroom between the two rooms inside. Falling to her knees, she barelygot the lid up before she watched everything she ate that day become regurgitated, her bodybuckling under the force of the heaves. After a long moment, when she thought there wasnothing left, she sat back against the cold wall of the bathroom, panting.

Unfortunately, the relief was short-lived. While she sat on the linoleum floor,listening to her own heavy breathing, the sound of something weighty being dropped in thenext room over caused her to jolt upright. Knowing that all three of her roommates were atMatt Keisers party and wouldnt be back until later, Rachel got to her feet, flushing thetoilet as she cautiously left the bathroom. The dorm room in front of her, which was called a

suite at the university, was the same as it had been before she left: the spacious, apartment-style common area askew with two futons in an awkward position in front of a televisioncabinet, its two end tables and lamps far from the arms of the couches. The door was shut,though not locked, but judging by the thickness of the sound she heard, it hadnt beenanyone slamming it behind them after entering the room.

Crossing over to the closed archway, Rachel locked the door, then turned to lookaround. For some reason, even after having just puked her guts out only minutes ago, shewas on high alert, though the thud of something being dropped wasnt enough to cause suchalarm. It was as if a presence had entered the room, infecting the air. The longer she stoodwith her back to the jamb, the more Rachel could feel the heaviness of the atmosphere, like adark cloud was hovering overhead. Swallowing hard, she pushed herself off the wall andheaded for the bedroom she shared with Denise Greene, hoping that whatever had fallenhad been nothing more than the girls secret bowling ball or something.

Walking slowly, Rachel reached her hands forward blindly, unable to see muchthrough the weak glow of the moon spilling in through the numerous windows. Pawing thelight switch as soon as she was inside her bedroom, she flicked it up and down, only torealize that it wasnt working. Becoming more unnerved, Rachel shut the door behind her,hoping whatever was causing the sensation out in the common area would stay containedthere until she had reinforcements or until morning came.

However, as soon as she was closed off from the rest of the suite, something worse


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than the dense air outside blanketed the room. The odor of rotten eggs suddenly grewthroughout the space, starting like a spray of aerosol and becoming stronger with eachbreath Rachel took. Gagging, and feeling her stomach churn like it had prior to vomiting,she reached up to clip her nose shut with her fingers, breathing through her mouth as sheheaded for the window. Pushing open the wide panes, she relished in the warm breeze andtook in the smell of summer as the foul stench carried outside. Looking down at the

courtyard underneath the building, she could see nothing but the muted hunter green of thegrass and dark brown of the walkway below. As she placed her hands on the sill to peerfurther down, she felt a grainy powder touch her palm. Gazing at it, she narrowed her eyesto get a better look, noticing that whatever it was seemed to be yellow and the source of thestink. Gagging again, she brushed her hands together, letting the wind take the granuleswith it as it floated past.

Suddenly, before she could completely relax again, Rachel heard the loud thud comefrom somewhere inside the suite. Turning around to look, she swallowed hard and preparedto glance through the dark. Unfortunately, before she could pivot all the way, a pair ofhands grasped her, spinning her back into her previous position. Placing her palms backwhere they were in the sill, and getting more yellow powder on them, Rachel attempted tofight back, pushing against the window to try to get away from it. Ultimately, the hands

were stronger, shoving as hard as possible to try to send her over the edge.No! Rachel screamed, her stomach falling against the ledge and knocking the

breath out of her. Stop!All she heard in response was a laugh. Feeling her feet being picked up by the

strong hands, Rachel tried to grasp onto the windowsill, unable to reach anything but thebrick siding of the building. Before she could plead for whoever was about to tip her overnot to, her sneakers left the ground, her body plummeting straight for the cobblestonewalkway below.


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ONE

Abnormal Psychology 3, YaleNew Haven, Connecticut

Thursday, August 31, 200611:12 AM

A crowd had gathered around the spot Rachel Richardson had fallen, blanketing thebloodstain in the cobblestone walkway and covering it with candles, flowers, and pictures topay homage to the girl who had apparently jumped to her death. It had only been twelvehours since the event, the news of Rachels suicide shocking the campus as it spread school-wide in a matter of minutes, with detectives only working a short while to determinewhether or not they had a true suicide on their hands or something of formulated murder,though the latter seemed unlikely. Overnight, the place had been taped off, photographed,and searched for evidence, with none of the police coming up with anything out of theordinary before they allowed students to set up their vigil.

However, the remembrance was only a small part of how stunned the students ofYale University were. As the story of the girl who had found her, Riley Hill, spreadthroughout classrooms and dorms, the tale had made its own twists and turns, butremaining mostly true to its original form: Riley had been walking back to her suite afterhaving dinner with her boyfriend, thinking about everything else exceptfor where she wasgoing in the dark. While she walked, her head had been in the clouds before it was rippedback down to reality the moment she stepped into a puddle of thick liquid. Looking at theground, she saw the broken, bloody body of Rachel Richardson, a girl she had barely knownbut had once shared a class with. From there, she had called the cops, who had taken herdown to the station for questioning. By the time she returned the next morning, herroommates had been able to piece together the story from the murmurs Riley let slip,spreading the tale around campus for those who were interested.

As the account wound its way through ears and mouths, classes and registration

were still due to proceed. Shopping week continued, ID cards were still being handed out,and sororities were still being rushed. Although what had happened to Rachel had beentragic, life still moved on, with the girls fellow students passing the place she had hit thepavement and stopping by to show their respects between classes. Ultimately, though, theshock would undoubtedly die off, soon to be replaced with curiosity and questions. Why didshe jump? Why was no one there to stop her? How come she didnt leave behind a note?

In a classroom across campus, all of those questions ran through Amy Winchestersmind as she sat in the back of the abnormal psychology class she was auditing. While theprofessor continued on about the id, the ego, and the superego and how that reflected inwhat they would be doing during the semester should any of the thirty students that packedthe small auditorium choose to take his class, Amy felt herself checking out as she barelylistened, keeping her pen poised over the notebook in front of her to make it look as though

she was busy working rather than thinking. Around her, she could tell the same was true ofthe other students, especially the ones with red eyes and puffy cheeks. No one in ProfessorGrays class was paying attention, causing her to wonder whether the man was aware of itor choosing to press on in order to try to keep some sort of stability around campus.

Amy hadnt known Rachel Richardson all that well, only coming into contact withher once or twice over the years due to the fact that she was a friend of a friend. They hadnever hung out, never really talked, nor never really said much to one another aside fromthe occasional hello. Unfortunately, with a death on campus, she couldnt help b ut both feelsorry for the girl who had jumped and a little afraid. Ever since her summer with her


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could handle, giving her a few panic attacks along the way as she tried to hold her ownwhile the men talked to her, becoming almost certain that they would just knowwhat shewas up to with John and that he had asked her to watch them from a safe distance.Thankfully, she and John had left town before she could encounter the pair more than once,giving her time to calm down and sleep on it on the way to Green River, Arkansas.Unthankfully, it was there that the man decided to switch up Amys routine, asking her to

go undercover to find out what his targets were up to.Assuming the role, she had pretended to be both an Australian university student

traveling with her father, her most truthful disguise, and a police officer working on amurder case the two men seemed interested in learning about. Unfortunately, after a flashof a similar FBI badge that looked identical to the one she had found in Johns bedroom, andafter the older of the pair, who Amy had learned was named Dean, had begun to look asthough he recognized her underneath the blonde wig, fake glasses, and color contacts shewore to disguise herself, Amy had gotten skittish. Freaking out, she had left Green Riverwith John, barely giving him any information that could be deemed useful as to what themen had been doing in Arkansas.

Following him to Nebraska, where they had spent about two hours in town doingnothing, before heading to Maine for the rest of the summer, Amy had determined a

possible catalyst in Deans recollection of her. The crucifix she wore around her neck, apiece of jewelry she had gotten for her thirteenth birthday that had been the only thing shehad had of her real parents for years, had been somewhat of a neon sign. The small cross,made of silver with inlaid diamonds, was generic enough but also unique to her. Shedoubted, in all the towns across the nation that Dean and his partner had undoubtedly beento, that he had seen someone with the same trinket. Taking it off directly after stumblinginto just the partnerneglecting to do so beforehand, thinking the pair werent stayinganywhere near Brewer, MaineAmy had kept it in her pocket to have it close to her. Thething, which hadnt been removed in the almost-eight years since she had gotten it, hadbeen as much a part of her as her lungs or her ribs, and not having it on her would besimilar to removing a vital organ.

Unfortunately, it wasnt long before her and the necklace were soon parted. Afterthe last encounter with Dean and his partner in the parking lot of the diner in which sheworked, Amy had learned the truth about the armed and dangerous men John had askedher to watch. As the events of the night unfolded, leading up to the reveal that the pairwerent just John Winchesters targets, but also his sons, Amy had been blinded with somekind of irrational rage, taking off the one thing she had placed next to her heart for yearsand slamming it on the table near the door of the motel room. In some weird way, shethought it was supposed to symbolize her lack of want in joining the family that seemed tobe playing some sort of spy-versus-spy with one another, as though removing the piece ofjewelry she had been told had been her mothers was a sign to John that she was leavingthem to go about their business without her. Ultimately, though, as soon as she arrivedhome from splitting on her own from the man, she regretted the action, wanting the thingback as she sat in the center of some kind of Mexican standoff going on between heradoptive family.

From the moment she walked through the door, everything inside the Foresterhome had been silent, with doors to every room closed as though everyone had decided togo their separate ways for the summer. Her twin brothers, Thomas and Tristan, were splitup and across the house from one another, with Jennifer in the movie lounge and Joel in hisstudy, leaving Amy to wander between them as she tried to figure out what had happenedwhile she was gone. However, she had never gotten an answer, even after she had flownfrom Chicago OHare to Tweed Regional Airport in New Haven and spent the first day


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after landing being helped by Joel as he carried her boxes and furniture up the stairs to herfifth-floor dorm. When she was settled, he had left almost immediately, checking the car foranything possibly left behind before taking off in a hurry. Fortunately for her, Amy hadntspent much time dwelling on the oddness of the situation, instead focusing on her newroommate.

The girl had been a tall blonde named Sarah, thankfully much unlike her co-worker

of the same name from the Perkos Caf in Brewer. With brown, doe-eyes and a big smile,Amy had pegged the girl as friendly from the get-go, deciding to make each other morecomfortable by spending Tuesday night indoors with The Exorcism of Emily Rose playingloudly on the surround sound of a recreational area nestled in a hidden corner of thebuildings first floor that was soundproofed to be used for loud noises after a certain hour.As they squirmed, laughed, and tried to distract themselves from the grotesquenessonscreen, the two had made fast friends, even deciding to test out a few classes together onthe first day of shopping week the following morning. However, the two had goneseparate ways for the second half of the first day of school, with Sarah heading to MattKeisers party and leaving Amy alone to read in the common room of their two -bedroom,two-person suite housed in the added-on Swing Dormsa residence hall Amy had beenglad to be placed in. While she had been used to sharing a place closer to campus with four

peopletwo in each of the spacious, antique rooms sitting inside apartment-likeaccommodationsshe was thankful to have been put in the extra housing sitting far fromclasses. Though that meant a further walk to everything, it also meant she only had to sharethe bathroom, television, and Internet signal with only one other personwhich, in allhonesty, was worth it.

The only downside she could find to having been placed so far from everyone elsewas the fact that her new friend from back home in Northbrook, Illinois had been hired asthe resident advisor for Vanderbilt Hall on the opposite corner of the school. Bailey Yost,who had appeared on Amys doorstep near the end of summer carrying a plate of cookiesand a new-neighbor hello, had become a good acquaintance in the time that they had knowneach other. Also blonde, Baileys five-foot-two stature had spent most of the first couple ofdays back at school scolding freshman for making too much noise or trying to sneak beerinto their rooms. However, being the RA for the rowdiest bunch of students on campus alsomeant that she heard most of the gossip, up to and including what had happened withRachel Richardson. As soon as she had heard it, Bailey had passed along the message aboutthe girl, giving infinitely less details in the text Amy had received as she did duringbreakfast earlier in the morning. As she, Amy, and Sarah sat at a table near the middle ofone of the schools many dining halls, Bailey continued on about how the girl was found andwhether or not it was a suspected suicide. Since then, Amy had become just as botheredabout the death as half the campus seemed to be, floating from class-to-class with her mindonly partially in it.

Ultimately, though, the cause of her being so troubled by the suicide, aside from theobvious, was a mystery to her. She hadnt known the girl, so why was she so concerned overthe way she had died? For some unexplained reason, something in her gut squirmedwhenever she thought of it, reminding her of a sensation she had felt during the summerwhen she had been in the Perkos Caf. Her stomach had twisted and slithered as though asnake had found its way into her intestines, passing a few moments later and neverreturning. The more she thought about Rachel Richardson, the more she was reminded ofthat feeling, her stomach flopping as she remembered hearing about Riley Hill stepping inthe girls blood and stumbling upon the dead body. While that could easily be explained asnausea just from the imagery alone, Amy couldnt help but sense that this was somethingmore.


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Kicking the thought away as the rest of the class began to pack up, Amy shut hernotebook and shoved it into her bag, nodding to Sarah beside her as the two stood up. Onher roommates face was a look mirroring everyone elses as they headed out of the lecturehall, one that said this class hadnt been as interesting as it had been billed. Making amental note to cross it off the list when she arrived at her next subject, Theatre History,Amy trailed behind Sarah, straightening up next to her once they were out in the throng of

the corridor. For the first few days of the semester, everything seemed to be back in highschool, with lessons being released at the same time to make sure that everyone got anequal chance to check out the ones they wanted to get into. As people pushed past eachother to get into a room across the hall or fish swam upstream to get inside the wide, stone-walled buildings, Amy was reminded of St. Marys in Northbrook and how crowded thingswould get in between classes.

Thankfully, before she could dwell on it, Amy found herself out in the courtyardbeside Sarah, the two hitching up their book bags from where they had been dislodged inthe mob. The air was crisp and clear for a summer day, with some people sweating as theyattempted to make their way from Old Campus to their lessons clear across the school intime. Strolling slowly, Amy wrapped her hair around her finger in thought while Sarahdirected them to the place they would be splitting, outside of the mathematics building.

So, you going to that remembrance ceremony at the University Church later?Sarah asked as they walked, tying her hair up in a ponytail absently. Furrowing her brow inconfusion, especially since she hadnt heard anything about a ceremony, Amy glanced downat Sarah, her slightly-shorter gaze matching the bewilderment. I mean, its just that youlook so bothered by it, I thought you might be going.

Frowning, Amy considered it for a minute as they slowed to a stop beside theopening of the corridor Sarah was soon to head down. I dont think so. I didnt really knowher. I had friends who did, but thats about it.

Oh, Sarah shrugged. Anyway, see you later.Grinning in response, Amy watched as her roommate turned to head down the

hallway, disappearing into one of the classrooms, before turning to make her way towardthe drama department. It was true, she did have friends who had known Rachel, but Amy

had yet to see either Taylor Rosen or Celia Brown since getting to New Haven. In fact, shehadnt even thought about calling them, too shocked over the news of someone throwingthemselves out the window to remember. Making a mental note to see how they were onceher ten minutes of Theatre History were over, Amy picked up her pace to cross the grassygreen grounds, hoping that she wasnt going to be late and forced to stand in the back.


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TWO

University Church, YaleNew Haven, Connecticut

Thursday, August 31, 20068:37 PM

The procession leading past the doors into the University Church on the Yale campus hadwound its way around the courtyard outside, leading from where it had started across theschool grounds and ending where the small cathedral sat at the edge of Old Campus. Theceremony had begun at eight, with a group of students gathering outside of the British ArtMuseum on Chapel and High streets, before carrying its way back onto the universitygrounds, walking slowly behind Pastor Lee Reynolds, as he liked to be called, while he leadthe group holding a single candle that barely permeated the bleak night.

From where Amy followed near the back of the line, she had felt odd as she listenedto others sniffle and whimper prayers. Though she had known Rachel Richardson had beenpopular around schooldue mostly to the fact that she had once dated the son of thefamous attorney, Richard DuPonteshe had also known she wasnt well-enough liked tohave attracted a crowd as large as the one around her. When Amy had arrived outside ofthe museum across the street from the Starbucks she had frequented in the past, she hadseen only a handful of people. Thinking that maybe it would be a small affair, one thatinvolved others too wrapped up in their own grief to question what she was doing there, shehad stayed near the glass windows of the building, trying to blend in with the background.However, the longer she stood there, the more people began to join before the whole blockwas covered, causing her to wonder if all the other students were there for the same reasonshe was: out of curiosity.

For some reason, the idea that Rachel had committed suicide wasnt sitting wellwith Amy. The girl, from what she had heard during her consoling conversation with herfriends Taylor and Celia, had been acting normally all summer, and the only time they had

seen her looking depressed was during the party they had all attended the night before.According to Taylor, Rachel had been downing mojitos as though they were soon todisappear, but also according to Taylor, that was due largely to the fact that the girl hadagreed to join her ex-boyfriend at the shindigthe same boyfriend who had given her thetitle of popular at school. Ultimately, the more Taylor talked about how Rachel had beenmore than excited to finally be graduating, that she was finally going to be able to open herown business, and that she was planning to get her own apartment on Madison Avenuewhen she became successful, the more Amy was certain the girl hadnt thrown herself outthe window due to some mishap with an ex-boyfriend and a couple of cocktails. Though sheknew it was perfectly plausible that the girl could have drunkenly slipped and fallen out thewindow on her ownwhich could, possibly, still be ruled as suicide, though she didnt knowenough about law enforcement and accident rulings to know for sureAmy couldnt help

but feel as though that explanation was a shallow one as well.Unfortunately, while she knew whatever happened to Rachel Richardson wasnt herbusiness, her mind would continue to float back to the subject, no matter how many timesshe tried to distract herself. For the rest of the day following her Theatre History class,Amy had felt as though her head were in the clouds, trying to figure what had happenedjust by reviewing what she had learned from word-of-mouth. When that came up a bust, shehad let her morbid curiosity get the better of her and had walked past the vigil stationedwhere the girl had fallen, trying to remember back on her physics class from sophomoreyear and attempting to calculate trajectory. Giving up, she had hurried to her last class of


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the day, settling into the front row of Acting for Screen and barely paying attention asProfessor Emerson gave a rough outline on what he expected for the audition to get ontothe roster. Taking lazy notes, she had made a mental one to look up monologues on theInternet when she got back to her dorm, then followed everyone out onto the numeroussteps outside.

However, with too many mental notes clogging her brain, a few of them had

managed to slip through the cracks. Suddenly remembering, as she walked back to SwingHall two blocks down from where the drama buildings were on the city-sized campus, tocall her friends and ask how they were doing, Amy had listened and offered comfortingwords to her grieving ex-roommates as they tried to blame themselves for leaving the partytoo soon or for not being better people. When she had finally arrived at her room on thetopmost floor of the building, she had found Sarah there, watching with curious eyes whileAmy paced back and forth, listening and trying to determine what could have possibly sentRachel Richardson over the edgeliterally. When nothing came to fruition, she had hungup and made a plan with Sarah to go to the ceremony at eight. Unfortunately, before theycould leave, a phone call had pulled Sarah away, leaving Amy to fend for herself in a crowdof strangers.

Thankfully, the more people began to gather, the better she felt about crashing the

funeral of someone she didnt know, noticing that reporters from the Yale Daily Newswerestanding amongst the crowd with recording devices and notepads in their hands as theyjotted down quick snippets of what was going on. As the procession lead through the darkcampus, and as Amys thoughts lead her away from the throng, she began t o feel steadilymore at ease and not as though she stuck out like a sore thumb. Even more mercifully, asthe line gathered to head inside the church for the actual ceremony, both Sarah, andsurprisingly, Bailey, had appeared beside her, dressed in the respectful black and looking asthough they were worried they were late.

God, I thought we were going to have to do that awkward thing where you walk inway after everythings started and everyone glares at you, Sarah breathed, straighteningthe strap on her dress as she attempted to gather herself. It was clear she and Bailey hadrun across campus in an attempt to make good time. I probably would have just turnedaround and went back home. Whats happened so far?

Shrugging, Amy smirked. Nothing really.Just a line from the museum to here.I cant understand them alls point of that, Bailey grinned, her southern accent

swallowed as she spoke under her breath.Shrugging again, Amy turned her attention back to the doors of the church,

noticing that they were almost to the front. As the three waited patiently for the crowd toprogress inside, Amy gazed through the threshold to get a good look at the architecture.When she was younger, before the teenage years had set in and caused her to rebel againstthe idea, Joel and Jennifer Forester had often dragged Amy and the twins to church withthem down at St. Catherines in Glenview. As they sat through the sermons, barely pickingup its teachings while they squirmed in their seats from having to sit still for so long, Amywould often distract herself by looking at the stain glass windows, lighted ceilings, andfixture of Jesus on the Cross behind the pulpit. While the place had the look and feel of acommunity church, it hadnt been as impressive as some as the other Catholic cathedralsAmy had seen in books, movies, and magazines. The University Church, which Amy hadnever stepped into before today, seemed to fit the description of a real house of worship,with its gothic design, high overhead, and polished pews all being shadowed under the dimglow of the electronic torches installed in the wood-paneled walls between confessionals.

Following the crowd inside, Amy felt a commanding presence as soon as she walkeddown the aisle, finding a seat near the back between Bailey and Sarah before looking


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around. In every row, students were crammed into each available space while some stoodpacked beneath the overhang of the balcony. Upstairs, professors and personal friends ofRachel sat distant from one another, both Taylor and Celia among them. Higher up, theceiling design hovered above them, its ornate aqua and gold-leaf pattern stretching to theroof and continuing over to the alcove behind the podium housing an organ, a golden cross,and a flower wreath propped up on an easel, a studio picture of Rachel in the center and

staring out at the mass inside the church. Every now and again, the flash of a camera wouldgo off to encompass the head of the room, blinking and capturing the set-up for what wasundoubtedly the article sure to be printed in the next edition of the school newspaper.

For some reason, the idea of Rachels death catching this much attention wasstartling to her. While she understood the shock behind the sudden suicide, if thats what ittruly was, could be jarring to the student body, Amy didnt think this much of a turn-outwould be due to such an event. As she looked around, she noticed that a good chunk of theschool was there, along with a fair few members of the staff.

Shifting her thoughts away as the priest began to head for the pulpit, Amy noticedthat the man now donned a cope along with his cassock, looking more formal with the goldfabric draped over his shoulders rather than just the black shirt and tab collar. As hesituated himself, the whole cathedrals attention turned to him, complete silence under the

shuffling of feet and clothing meeting his stare as he looked out at them. From where shesat, Amy could tell that Pastor Reynolds demeanor was somber, his brow furrowed inthought as he stared down at the Bible open on the podium in front of him.

Friends, family, students and staff, he began steadily, his eyes sweeping the crowd.We are gathered here, not under happy circumstances, but under rather grim conditions.For the first time in a long time, death has occurred on our beloved campus, one at the handof the departeds own self. It is in such times that a community is formed, and looking out atyou all today, I can see that one has been built out of concern, curiosity, andcommandment.

Pausing a moment, Pastor Reynolds turned to the picture of Rachel Richardson,beckoning to her smiling face with his gentle hands. In the quiet, the sound of sobs andcoughing could be heard, as though members of the crowd were divided in awkwardnessand bereavement at the priests words.

While this ceremony is not the true funeral of the deceased, I have been asked bythe deceaseds family to proceed as such, although shortened, Pastor Reynolds continued,his lined face wrinkling. I would like to begin with asking you all to stand with me inprayer. Stopping once again, the man raised his hands to guide the crowd up as one,waiting for most of the students to bow their heads. Glancing over at Sarah, then at Bailey,Amy noticed that both of them were staring at the floor, though the latter girl was tappingher toes anxiously against the marble underfoot. Shrugging to herself, Amy looked down,folding her hands in front of her respectfully as Pastor Reynolds continued. In the name ofthe Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, may the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and thelove of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all. Amen. Please be seated.

Twenty minutes later, Amy followed the crowd out into the courtyard, trailing behindBailey as she hurried onto the grass to beat the throng trickling out the doorway. Besideher, Sarah walked slowly, looking just as bothered by the ceremony as Amy had beenbeforehand. The service hadnt been any different than the other funerals Amy had been toin the past, the most recent being her Aunt Pats, although sped up and shortened. Half-waythrough the reading of Psalms, however, it was clear that the crowd was beginning to getantsy, fidgeting much like when Amy was a child in church.

Now that the cathedral was clearing, people were talking more lively than before,


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standing in groups cluttered around the door and blocking the way out. As she steppedbetween clusters of people, following behind Bailey in her rush for fresh air, Amy reachedabsently for her necklace, swearing at herself again when she realized that she was graspingnothing but the top button of her cardigan sweater. Deciding to twirl her hair around herfinger instead, she watched as people headed in separate directions back toward their dorms,some hailing cabs to catch a ride elsewhere.

After a few minutes of waiting, Taylor and Celia finally caught up, their eyes redand puffy from crying, with Taylor laying her head on Amys shoulder as they stood besideone another. Pulling her friend closer for support, Amy squeezed tightly before letting herarm fall, Taylor straightening up soon following.

Who are your friends? she asked, wiping her eyes.Making introductions, Amy waited for the girls to shake hands or wave quickly at

one another before letting the silence fall again. Never particularly good at keepingconversation, especially when people were too distraught to speak, Amy waited for someoneto pipe up and make a suggestion, hoping it would lead them somewhere near her andSarahs side ofthe campus. While she realized it was a hike from where they were standing,it was also close to Taylors favorite restaurant a block away. If anything was going to makeher friend feel better, it was possible Mexican food and margaritas would be it. Ultimately,

though, Celia looked as though she would rather be alone, probably taking Taylor with her.Frowning, Amy peered over at her other former roommate as tears threatened to form inher eyes again.

I think Im gonnago, Celia said finally, turning to leave without another word.Yeah, me too, Taylor sighed, giving Amy a hug before rushing off.Watching them go, Amy bit her lip in thought as they disappeared into Connecticut

Hall a short distance away, wondering whether or not her friends were going to be alright.Before she could dwell on it, however, Bailey cleared her throat, diverting Amys attention.

So dinner?


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THREE

The DuPonte HouseNew Haven, Connecticut

Wednesday, September 6, 20069:18 PM

Amy sat curled up on the loveseat in the center of the small living room of her dorm withbooks spread out around her and a highlighter clamped between her teeth. It had officiallybeen a full week since Rachel Richardson had died, and also a full week since school hadstarted, meaning that the attention brought to the fatal accidentas it had been ruled bythe police departmentwas waning, only to be shed on classes and studying.

In the few days since picking her final schedule for the first semester of her senioryear, Amy had spent most of her time at the student book store, browsing the aisles witheither Bailey or Sarah as they each searched for whatever they would need for the upcomingterm. Buying textbooks, scantrons, calculators and more, the girls had quickly placed aheavy amount on their credit cards, all of them hoping against hope that they wouldnt bescolded by their individual parents for the number in the low hundreds. Thankfully, theyhad a month to wait before the bill came, meaning it was possible all their charges wouldbecome buried under other fees and taxes that were easily explainable.

However, dollar amounts were in the back of Amys mind as she sat reading therequired chapters that would be covered on the test this upcoming Friday. So far, she hadbeen deeply buried beneath sociology, theatre, and English homework that it was becomingimpossible to see the surface. On the tables and cushions around her, books were splayedout to their respective sections as she floated from one to the other, trying to pick up whatwas written in the dull paragraphs. Every now and again, she would look up to stare out thewindow across from her, only remembering that she had shut the curtains to deter herdistractions. Picking another spot to gaze at in the small, city-apartment-sized commonroom, Amy settled on the blank television, wondering if she needed a break.

Since being back in New Haven, the TV set in the living area had yet to be turnedon. The plasma screen, courtesy of Sarah, had been sitting unplugged from the time it hadbeen placed on the stand in front of the coffee table, with neither girl bothering to do thehonors. It was possible that, since Sarah was out most of the time, she hadnt had theoccasion to sit down and stare, always choosing to head to a party or another friends dorminstead. Amy, on the other hand, had taken a different approach. After all the televisionwatching, movie renting, and overall couch-potato-resembling she had done for most of thesummer, she hadnt wanted to plop herself down in front of the boob tube any more thanshe wanted to go to some soire with her new roommate. It seemed, for the time being, thething was going to have to remain off until one of the two girls occupying the suite took theinitiative.

Turning her attention back to the textbook in front of her, Amy tried to read the

first lines of the introduction she had to nearly memorize for the abnormal psychology classshe had been forced into taking, feeling her mind instead float over to picking a monologuefor Professor Emersons audition on the same Friday crammed with first-week exams. Forsome reason, Amy had thought her senior year of college was going to be much of the sameas the one in high school, with skating by and biding time until graduation. Ultimately,though, it seemed as if Yale was the exact opposite, expecting a thick course load as a last-ditch effort to get every lesson anyone might have missed shoved into one schedule. As adrama major, Amy had somehow managed to be placed in two psychology classes, anAmerican Classics English class, and a six-week session on theatre history. While she was


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sure there was a reason behind being placed there, it would also have been more helpful tohave spread each one out through the years rather than carrying them all at once.Unfortunately, most of the lectures she had been signed up for were available only toseniors, meaning that she had no choice but to take them during one of her two last terms.

Sighing loudly, Amy placed her highlighter in the spine of the book and shut it,throwing it aside as she rested her head into the back of the couch. For the past few days

before the prior Monday, things in the dorm had been exciting, with Taylor and Celiavisiting from Connecticut Hall and Bailey from where she RAd in Vanderbilt. As the four ofthem talked, ate pizza, and tried to beat each other at Sorry!, it had become increasinglyobvious that everyone was putting the past behind them to look toward the future. Inbetween her first round on the game board and being beaten by Bailey, Amy had decidedshe was through looking at everyone suspiciously like she had been at Rachelsremembrance service and beforehand, passing by the crime scene and mulling it over asthough it was her job to solve the whodunit. It had been a habit she had unsuspectinglypicked up from her time with John, having always been hyper-aware every time she entereda diner to work and looking out for the bad guys. Now she was doing it like it was secondnature, staring dubiously at everyone as though they were all suspects in an ongoinginvestigation. Wanting to be normal again, she had thrown the idea out the window, so to

speak, and made a promise to herself to stop being so vigilant.Thankfully, the pledge had stuck, becoming permanent the longer she hung out

with her friends. As they talked over their vacations, with Taylor reiterating the boy shehad met while in Belize and Amy pretending she hadnt left the house even though everyoneknew otherwise, Bailey listened intently, making moves in the game that wiped everyoneout. Giving up against her ruthless red pawns, the four had put the board away and goneout for coffee at the Starbucks across the street from where the funeral procession hadcongregated. There had been a moment where both Celia and Taylor had become sadpassing the spot, causing Amy to wonder whether or not the weekend was going to befurther canceled, only to be swallowed and buried the second Taylor saw someone she satnext to in class. Spending most of her time with him inside the coffee house, Taylor stayed afew tables away, talking with Cody and leaning too forward on the countertop. Smiling andlaughing quietly, the remaining three watched with amusement, making comments andinnocuous jokes until the guy got up to leave.

After awhile, Sarah had joined them, talking quickly about a party that was beingheld in the middle of the week by the DuPonte brothers, another Wednesday bash theywere hosting in an attempt to top the last one. According to Taylor, as she rejoined thegroup, the previous event hadnt been all that great in the first place, muttering a remarkthat it was Chase DuPontes fault Rachel had died. An awkward silence had fallen at thatpoint, one that wasnt cleared up as quickly as the one outsi de. Breaking into separategroups, Celia and Taylor headed for their dorm, leaving Amy, Bailey, and Sarah sittinguncomfortable near the door. Fortunately, by the time the cluster of girls saw each otheragain the following day, things had gone back to normal, with the former two apologizingfor their abrupt departure and seemingly putting the accident in the back of their minds assoon school was kicked into high-gear.

However, if classes were going to be as intense the rest of the year as they wereduring the first week, Amy doubted she would be seeing much of the small congregation.According to brief MySpace messages and text alerts, she wasnt the only one being put ona heavy schedule, meaning everyone else was probably stationed somewhere in their owndorm, sitting similar to how she was, but having to share the space with three other people.Amy, alone in her suite while Sarah went to the mid-week bash at the DuPonte House,seemed to have lucked-out in the roommate department, almost always finding the place all


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to herself most of the time.Suddenly, before she could thank God or focus back on her homework, the door to

the suite was thrown open, with Sarah hurrying in and slamming it behind her. Jumping toher feet out of surprise, Amy furrowed her brow at her friend, wondering what was goingon. As Sarah looked around frantically for something, her eyes finally stopping on Amy, shelet out a sigh of relief and crossed the common area, taking a hold of her roommates

pajamas and looking slightly disappointed.Youre all ready for bed, Sarah slumped. Damn it!Smirking despite herself, Amy ran her fingers through her hair to push the tousled

chestnut locks out of her face, curious as to what could be bothering the other girl. Sittingon the coffee table, Sarah folded her legs and leaned forward, looking expectantly at Amy asthough waiting for her to return to the couch. Doing so, she gazed at her friend, noticingthat Sarah was dressed in something formal and befitting of the DuPonte party. From whatshe knew, the brothers didnt do anything without making it a class-act, trying to upholdsome standard their father had placed on their gatherings to keep them from being rowdy.According to Richard DuPonte, people were apparently more hesitant to swing drunkenlyfrom a chandelier if they were wearing slacks and a tie.

I need you to go with me to the DuPontes, Sarah said suddenly. Frowning, Amy

stared at her, wondering what had given her the idea that her roommate, who sat readingmore often than not, would want to head to a modified frat party. Yeah, yeah. I know.Listen, you dont have to stay long. I just need you for like, an hour. Chase is on the move,and if I dont have some sort of a buffer there, hes going to track me down. With any luck,he might even go after you instead. Social interaction would be good for you, anyway.

Sticking her tongue out at her friends jab, Amy rolled her eyes. Im not exactlyDressed? Yeah, look: Ill get you some clothes. Just please, pleasesay youll go with

me. Theres no way Im both missing this or getting hit on by a DuPonte. Plus, Im yourroommate, so you have no choice, Sarah grinned, getting to her feet to round to her side ofthe suite as she continued talking. Take a shower or something, but be quick about it. Thelater we wait, the less people will be there. The bigger the crowd, the better.

Raising her eyebrows, Amy laughed quietly as she entered her bedroom,immediately heading for the floor-length mirror staring up at her from the small space.Inside sat a twin bed and a miniature desk beside a knee-high bookshelf. With all of herstuff crowded on top of it, and some of it out in the living room, the place looked clutteredand made it impossible to get to the closet. Throwing her pajamas in a drawer for later,Amy waited for Sarah to bring in some kind of outfit, wondering if she would be able to fitin the other girls clothes based on the few inches of height between themand Sarahsknack for buying the shortest of the short skirts available.

After a long moment of going through the five cocktail dresses and two pairs ofshoes her roommate presented her to choose from, Amy raced after Sarah down the hall,stopping at the elevator down to give her time to tie up her frazzled hair. When she lookedhalf-way presentable, based on her reflection in the silver double doors, the two climbed inand hailed a taxi from the corner of Tower and York Square, figuring it would be fasterthan walking all the way across campus and down a few blocks. By the time they arrived,the house was thumping loudly, causing Amy to wonder how the brothers could get awaywith a pounding bass at nine oclock on a Wednesday in an elderly neighborhood.

They pay off the neighbors, Sarah commented, seeming to read her friends mind.Frowning right as Sarah started for the crowd at the front door, Amy followed

behind, keeping close to Sarah as she navigated them through the thriving throng. Passingdrinking games, dirty dancing, and heated discussions, Amy took in each, wondering if allcollege parties were like this or just the DuPonte gatherings.


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In all honesty, Amy had never been much of a partier, always figuring she could gether fill of them while watching movies or TV shows based solely on what happened to thecharacters and their following days hangover. As she walked through the clusters of people,taking in the shouts of chug, chug, chug, chug! and OOOOH! at least a few times, shecould tell that the screen versions of what was going on aro und her werent too far off. Infact, based on the way the two girls were dancing on each side of the DJ booth, she was

beginning to understand what Las Vegas was like as well.Youre back, a voice said to Amys right, taking her attention away from the party.I told you I would be, Sarah said to a tall blonde boy with cold gray eyes, his stare

seeming to be appraising Amys body beneath the red dress the two of them had finallydecided on. Apparently picking up on the once-over, Sarah grimaced. Amy, this is Chase.

Frowning for the second time so far, Amy bit her lip. So youre Chase.Been talking about me, I see, Chase grinned slyly. All good things, I hope.When no one spoke up to agree or disagree, Chases smile widened. Let me getUnfortunatelyor fortunately, since Amy didnt know him well enough to be able

to judge whether or not the interruption was welcomebefore he could finish his sentence,a girl with frantic, red-rimmed eyes raced up to the trio, searching each of their faces asthough trying to figure out what to say. As her gaze finally locked on Chase, she gripped

him tightly, her fingers digging into his dress shirt and nails nearly ripping the fabric.Chase, you have to shut this down, Stacy Miller panted. Theres been an

accident!


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FOUR

Connecticut Hall, YaleNew Haven, Connecticut


Celia Brown didnt know if she could hide it anymore, the sadness she felt and the longingfor Rachel to come bounding through the door holding a stack of books, ready to talk overwhat they had learned in class and who the boys were that looked like hot prospects. Eventhough it had been a week since the discovery of her body in the courtyard, Celia still feltthe wound as fresh as the moment she had heard the news, the gaping hole in her gut stillraw around the edges.

As she sat on the couch between her and Taylors beds in their spacious dorm room,the lights off and the moon shining through the locked window, Celia could feel herthoughts drifting back to the second she had been told Rachel Richardson was dead. Taylorhad come into their suite, a complete mess with her hair matted and her mascara running,searching frantically for Celia despite the fact that she was standing directly in front of her.When word had been breached, Celia had buckled onto the floor, her knees hitting thehardwood with a loud bang but her body unable to feel the impact. It was as if everythinginside her had gone numb and like her breath had been sucked out of her lungs.

However, for some reason, Celia was unable to grasp the concept ofRachels death,instead becoming incredulous and insisting on proof. Racing toward the spot she had heardRachel had fallen, she had stopped dead in her tracks the minute she saw blood stain in thecobblestone ground. The splatter was wide enough to reach the grass and walls nearby,confirming all she needed to know in regards to the truth about her friends fate. It wasntsome mistake or confusion. Up above, on the fifth floor, the window to the room Celia knewbelonged to the girl was wide open, the spatter of red on the ground directly below. Therewas no mix-up between her friend and someone else; Rachel had died. There was no

questioning it.The days that followed had been harrowing, starting with the ceremony and neverending. As the whole school turned up to pay their respects to the girl only half of themknew, which made Celia more mad than anything, the service had been shortened to thepoint of being scathing, as though Pastor Reynolds was trying to get it over and done withas quickly as possible to satisfy the assemblys shifting focus. In the front row, from hervantage point on the balcony, she could see reporters from the Yale Daily Newssitting andjotting down notes, taking pictures every time the priest at the pulpit opened his mouth. Itwas an insult, to say the least, to see Rachel remembered in that way, as an accident worthyof the front page and nothing more, and when the issue of the paper came out the nextmorning, Celia hadnt bothered to read it, instead choosing to throw it directly in the trashwithout giving Taylor a chance to see it.

But it wasnt like Taylor felt any different on the matter. Both girls had been closewith Rachel, growing up with her in Cicero with their houses placed right next to oneanother. Their mothers had all been friends, their fathers played golf together, and the threeof them got along famously from childhood on. They had been through good times, fights,breakups, and even that incident with Rachel first dating Chase DuPonte. They had becomesisters as well as best friends, and losing one of them was like losing a kidney.

However, though it had only been a week, life went on and she was expected to beover the eternal absence already. In class, she was expected to pay attention; with friends,she was expected to be pleasant; and with everyone else, she was supposed to be social.


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Unfortunately, Celia felt none of those things. All she wanted to do was curl up in a ball andcry every minute of every day, and, despite the fact that Taylor seemed to be occupyingherself with trips to the library and so on, she could tell her best friend felt that way, too.

About an hour ago, the two of them had gone their separate ways after seeing SarahClarke race across campus down below, probably in search of Amy or someone equally asagreeable to drag to the DuPonte House with her. For some reason, Celia didnt like the

girl, Sarah, finding her to be too much of a partier, choosing to dismiss school to head outnight after night. How she and Amy had been placed together in a dorm was astounding.The pair were complete opposites, with the latter always choosing to stay in and read whilethe former probably woke up smelling like a brewery every morning. She knew for a factthat Yale did psychological profiles and questionnaires with all its residents, making surethat the people they housed together would get along without any sort of friction.Somehow, though, it seemed to workdespite the fact that Celia knew most of that couldbe attributed to knowing Amy would never say anything if Sarah rolled into the dorm at sixoclock in the morning reeking of alcohol.

Staring out at the moon glowing through the window, Celia couldnt help butwonder about Amy, noticing that something about her short-time friend seemed distractedlately. Beneath her constantly-curious gaze seemed something bothersome, as though a

hardness had formed in the sage green during the summer. But it wasnt just her suspicionsrunning wild whenever the idea popped up in her mindespecially since every time any ofthem talked about their vacations, Amy had always been the one who acted as though shehadnt done much of anythingthat made Celia feel that way. While it was perfectlyplausible that Amy hadntdone much of anything, that shed spent most of the four monthsbeside a pool with a book due mostly because Celia knew Amy had done so before, theperturbed sense in her eyes told another story. Ultimately, however much of that wascaused by Rachels death was still unknown, considering most of the school had appearedthe exact same way for most of the day the news had broken of the fall.

Sighing loudly, Celia changed positions in her chair, taking her gaze off the brightwhite in the sky to glare at the ceiling. Out of the four roommates sharing a suite on the topfloor of Connecticut Hall, she had been the only one left inside, each of them either gone tothe DuPonte House for the Wednesday night bash or down to the library with Taylor.While she knew there were other places to go aside from either of those two choices, herother suitemates didnt seem to be the adventurous type. Both seniors from othercountiesone Scotland and the other WalesAlice and Juniper didnt appear to stray toofar from their tried-and-true spots on school grounds. Floating between the coffee cartoutside in the courtyard, one of the multiple libraries, and sometimes even Durfees SweetShoppe, neither of them looked the type to head to the party two blocks from campus,though she didnt want to rule it out as a possibility.

Celia had always hated the DuPonte House gatherings, as Chase called them,finding them to be ridiculous and over-hyped. Though she knew Charles, the youngerbrother, wasnt as bad as the other one, she still couldnt stand the sight of either of them,especially now since both her and Taylor held them responsible for Rachels death. If shehadnt been drinking the night of the first party, she would probably still be alive, dexterousenough to keep herself from slipping out the window. In fact, there was a lot of blame shecould place on Chase. The guy had been all over Rachel during the night, draping his armaround her as though she was once again his girlfriend and even freshening up her drinkthough that had taken some coercion since he wasnt kind enough to figure it out on hisown. Then again, she couldnt lay fault on him entirely. Both Celia and Taylor had ditchedtheir friend that night, leaving her behind in favor of Matt Keisers party.

Sinking lower in her chair, Celia sniffed the tears forming in her eyes back into


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retreat. She had been crying for so many days, barely sleeping because of the ache ofwanting her friend back, and was tired of feeling tired. All she wanted was to sleep off herexhaustion before bawling again, but it seemed as though that wasnt an option. It waseither one or the other, and it appeared the tears were winning the battle, despite the factthat her body ached and her shoulders throbbed from the sobs.

Taking a deep breath, she kept her eyes fixed on the overhead light, staring at the

dark bulb that hadnt been illuminated in quite some time. Both her and Taylor had kept theroom dark since the accident, not wanting to brighten the space as though it were someweird metaphor for shining a light on the situation. Neither of them wanted to face thetruth that Rachel was gone, instead keeping everything dim and lit by the glow of the moonas if that would make what happened anything but reality. The moment the switch wasflicked to the on position, Rachel would be dead, and they would have to go on without her.Sitting in the unilluminated night was better, it kept the truth away by dulling it withdarkness.

Suddenly, the sound of something heavy being dropped in the common room echoedthroughout the suite, jolting Celia out of her thoughts. Getting slowly to her feet, shecrossed over to the door of the bedroom, poking her head out and expecting Taylor to bestanding near the couch, a stack of books spilling over in her hands as she attempted to

collect the ones that had fallen. Instead, she saw nothing but the two futons and end tablessitting empty, untouched from where they had been repositioned by Juniper earlier in theday. Sighing, Celia shut the door behind her as she headed back inside, chocking the noiseshe had heard up to her sleep-deprived imagination running wild, hoping that Rachel wouldbe there when she looked.

Sitting back down in her chair, Celia wrapped her arms around her crossed legs infront of her, resting her head against her propped-up shoulder and glancing at the clock onthe desk beside her computer. It was possible that she needed to go to bed, her exhaustionnow getting the better of her and causing her to hallucinate thuds and sounds. Ultimately,at only a quarter past nine, it was too early to call it a night, despite everything. Taylorwould be back from the library soon, meaning that the two could sit up and watch televisiontogether if worse came to worst, dulling their mind with the straight-forward CSI if theycouldnt find anything else to keep them occupied. Unfortunately, that meant she had fifteenminutes to kill before the library closed, and even more time for Taylor to walk back toConnecticut Hall after gathering her things.

However, before she could become settled on the idea, the sound of anotherpounding reverberating from the wooden floor of the common room drifted into Celiasshared bedroom, making her almost certain that the noise had been a heavy book beingdropped on the ground. Sighing contentedly, she got to her feet and headed out into theliving area, tying her robe around her middle as she walked. Again, as she wrenched openthe door, nothing was there, except now the sensation of something dense with a foul odorwas wafting through the air. Pinching her nose at the fumes and trying to identify the smellfrom the hundreds she had experienced in her chemistry lab, Celia looked around for a stinkbomb or something of the like that may have been tossed into the room. Finding nothing,she gagged on the thick aroma, heading back into her bedroom and looking for somethingabsorbent to place under the door to stifle the stench.

God, thats awful, she muttered to herself as she kicked a towel into the crack.Isnt it? a voice asked, causing Celia to whip around.Narrowing her eyes to peer through the darkness, she attempted to find the source

of the declaration, only seeing more shadows in the blackened room. For a moment, Celiaconsidered flipping on the light to see, but was too afraid to move. All of a sudden, asthough reading her mind, the bulb overhead brightened, causing her to look up as the


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illumination grew to a blinding white. Placing a hand over her brow to try to cut throughthe stark contrast of the previous dimness, Celia attempted to see who else was inside herdorm, wondering if someone were there, playing a prank on her. Though, how they wouldhave gotten in was beyond her; the front and bedroom doors had both been shut the entiretime.

Whos there? she asked after a long while, the white so bright she was forced to

shut her eyes. As soon as the question escaped her mouth, she was reminded of a horrormovie, the line always being said the moment before the killer came out of the shadows tochop off the victims head or cut them in half. Hello?

All of a sudden, as though a testament to Celias thoughts, a laugh began to echothroughout the room, maniacal in nature. As it increased in volume, Celia headed blindly forthe door, reaching out when she thought she was close enough to the knob to yank it open.Unfortunately, before she could feel the cold metal on her fingers, the light bulb overheadexploded, causing her to jump in surprise as glass rained down onto the floor.

The moment it happened, the laughing stopped.Opening her eyes, she waited for her sight to adjust to give her a clear view of her

harasser. Before that happened, however, something else distracted her from finding thesource of her newfound fear. From behind, a hand gripped Celia around the waist, hooking

her backwards against her will. Digging her heels into the hardwood, she could feel herbare feet blistering at the force of the pull, eventually bleeding under the strength.Unfortunately, her attempt to fight back was futile. Looking back to see who was draggingher, she saw nothing but air as she was being propelled toward the vast, closed window. Amoment later and glass shattered behind her, the night air and sharp fragments hoveringaround her as she headed straight for the ground below.

She was done for, she knew it, and as she rapidly descended, the voice that hadspoken to her inside her dorm room said one last thing with the hint of a grin:

Say hi to Rachel for me!


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FIVE

Connecticut Hall, YaleNew Haven, Connecticut


Amy Winchesters heart pounded in her chest as she slowed to a stop on the grass outsideof Connecticut Hall. A crowd had formed around whatever had happened, ten people thickand creating a circle all the way to the wall. However, judging by the students gasping,muttering under their breath, and overall crying, she had a heavy feeling that whatever hadhappened hadnt been anything goodand she was right.

Pushing her way through the cluster of onlookers as the rest of the DuPonte partyfinally caught up, Amy felt as though every move she made was in slow-motion, with onlythe throbbing in her chest and the racing in her mind keeping up with real time. As sheroughly shoved aside students and teachers alike, nudging some too hard and causing themto fall onto the grass, Amy barely felt her hands grasp the fabric of the others clothing,everything on her body numb as her brain tried to sort through the thousands ofpossibilities that had automatically begun to pile up upon hearing the news that somethinghad happened. For some reason, something in the urgency of Stacy Millers warning andthe way the girl had looked at her had sent a chill down Amys spine, making her feel asthough she had some sort of tie to whatever was going on. As she sprinted across campus,double the speed of everyone else, Amy had become certain in her sense of relation to thehysterics now surrounding her, but yet to answer the question as to why. Chancing a glanceup above, she could see that a broken window had been forced open, its jagged remainspointing out at the night sky like a finger indicating where the people in the crowd wouldbe able to find out what had happened and who was responsible.

Ultimately, Amy was too bothered by whatever the group was staring at to noticewhich way the sharpest piece of glass was directing, instead turning her attention to

making it to the front. By the time she did, her heart had slowed to a dull thud, everythingaround her becoming muted as she stared down at the pavement underneath her feet. Lyingthere, still and bloody and bruised, was her friend, Celia Brown, looking much of the sameway Amy had heard Rachel Richardson had been found.

All of a sudden, every person in the crowd seemed to fade as Amy took a few stepsbackward in surprise, her breath catching in her chest after one long inhale. Unable to takeher eyes off the sight, off the blood and the teeth and glass splayed all over the concrete,Amy swallowed hard, placing both of her hands over her mouth as she tried to muffle thescream that wanted to escape her. Unfortunately, her throat seemed bunched up as Amystruggled to breathe, causing her to nearly buckle in half as she took in the details of thescene in front of her, as though trying to dedicate the sight to memory. For some reason shecouldnt fathom, she felt as if she was going to need the minute information later. However,

before she could get much more than the scene in front of her, someone from behindgrabbed her to pull her farther back into the crowd, tugging her away from the sight.You dont want to be here. It was Sarah. Though Amy didnt look back to confirm

the voice speaking in her ear, she knew who was dragging her backwards.By the time they reached the edge of the cluster, the sound of police sirens barreling

onto campus shocked her further, causing Amy to physically jump. As officers rushed pastthe two girls, barking orders at the crowd and telling them to separate or demanding toknow what happened, it was clear that news cameras werent far behind. In fact, Amyremembered, Rachels death had been covered by both the school newspaper, then copied


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toward her as though able to read her mind, offering her arm as the two hobbled backtoward class, Amy finding it difficult to walk from the pain in her chest.

By the time they reached their dorm and headed up the elevator, Amy was ready tobe inside, her mind racing a mile a minute as she tried to sort through what was happeningas well as find room to realize Celia was actually lying dead on the grounds. Opening thedoor to their suite, Sarah stood aside to let Amy pass, her thoughts too focused on whether

or not she should have stayed to talk to the police, or if someone was going around campus,pushing people out of dorm room windows.

Unfortunately, before she could focus any more on it, something came rushing ather, causing Amy to fight against whatever was wrapping itself around her tall frame.Seeing a mess of short blonde hair, Amy sighed with relief when she realized Bailey Yostwas there, pelting her somewhat newfound friend with a hug from behind. Tears streakingher face, Bailey looked as much of a wreck as Amy felt inside, her cheeks blacked withmascara and eyes red from crying. It was clear that the girl had heard about what hadhappened to Celia even before word had spread to the DuPonte House, and it was also clearthat the first thing on Baileys mind had been to run straight to Swing Hall to make sureher friend was okay. Touched by the idea, Amy gave Bailey a small smile, shutting the doorbehind her and sealing them off from the outside world.

I cant believe it, Bailey said after a long moment of complete silence, I cant.Me, either, Sarah agreed, taking a seat on the couch and running her fingers

through her hair. She was totally fine the last time I saw her in chemistry. What wouldcause her to jump out the window like that? Did she think that was going to bring Rachelback?

I dont think she jumped, Amy mumbled, sitting on the other side of Sarah. At thegirls confused looks, Amy shook her head, not wanting to say anything more than what shehad already put out there. Nothing, never mind.

Staring at her a moment, Bailey furrowed her brow, but didnt pursue the statement.Instead, she turned to look at Sarah, seeming interested in a discussion over what hadhappened and what they had seen. Tuning out while her friends talked over Amy racing tothe front of the crowdbowling people overand nearly fainting, according to Sarah,

Amy stared out the small window in the living room of their suite, suddenly realizing that itwasnt one that was likely to open. Frowning, she got up from the couch to press her fingersagainst the glass, wondering if all the buildings had the same top-floor security as it seemedthe swing dorms did. Though the other halls, especially the ones on Old Campus, datedback to the eighteenth century whereas she and Sarah were housed in a place that onlystretched into the last decade, it was possible that during the retrofittings andredecorations, the windows on the top floor had been sealed shut for safety reasons,predictably one that would have prevented Rachel Richardsons accident. Then again, ifthey had, it was likely the girl wouldnt have slipped out onto the walkway five storiesbelow in the first place.

Shoving her hand further into the glass, Amy pushed as hard as possible, halfwanting to place all of her curiosity and anger into the movement as well as find out howthick the glass was. However, after only a split-second of pushing, something in Amy kickedout of her, the glass under the heel of her palm cracking. Gasping in surprise, she steppedback to look at the hairpin split, noticing that the heat of her hand on the glass still hadntfaded. The disappearing of the white print gave her an ideafingerprintsthough why shewas having them in the first place was odd. She should be mourning her friends death, notlooking for a way to place the blame on someone, if there was anyone to blame at all.

In all honesty, Amy didnt know what she was doing. She was furious, confused,concerned, and sad, and all of those things were causing her to feel exhausted. But instead of


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changing clothes and slipping under the covers to cry herself to sleep, she was focusingelsewhere, thinking more like a policeman or an FBI

Of course.Suddenly, Amy knew why her mind was in overdrive trying to figure out what was

going on. It had been something she had been doing all summer while traveling with JohnWinchester, attempting to sort out what was happening and why they had been following

Dean and his brother from state to state. In that time, she had come up with a thousanddifferent solutions, none of them turning out to be true, and had scared herself a thousanddifferent ways. At the time, she had been convinced the pair they were watching wereconvicted criminals that would almost certainly kill her the moment they found out whatshe was doing, seeming to easily accept the explanation eve

killer wants to go to college by elizabeth shawnessey

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