Half truth

Chapter Thirteen

There was another envelope in front of my door when I got home. I picked it up quickly, looking from side to side, as if someone was going to run out here and snatch it, or worse, snatch me. I walked inside quickly, locking the door behind me and tearing the side of the envelope. This time, the card had a post-it on it that read: TOMORROW. THIS IS NOT A REQUEST. The instructions were the same otherwise. A drawing of an octopus tentacle on the front with the words: YOU’VE BEEN SUMMONED. On the other side: 900 Stewart Avenue. 12 am. It was ten o’clock now. Tomorrow. It wasn’t that I was inclined to go to random places by myself at that time of night, but I wanted answers. Why’d they keep sending this to me, and why did my brother have one that looked like a credit card, with a series of numbers in the back and his name etched in the front? I looked at the one in my hand again and decided I’d go. The only thing I had pla

The wind picked up as I walked, and I wrapped my coat tighter around myself. It was way too early to be walking to campus. Too dark, too early, and too cold, especially without the cup of coffee that I had to forfeit because I didn’t want to be late. Now, I had a killer headache, my chest was tight, even after four pumps of the inhaler, and I was grouchy. I pushed the button at the crosswalk and shifted from foot to foot, waiting for little walker to appear on the other side, alerting me that I could cross. Loud cawing got my attention. I glanced at the park across the street, my eyes on the perfectly dark shapes of the sycamore trees. The cawing got louder. I kept staring, wondering where the birds were. I couldn’t see them from here. A church bell rang in the far-off distance, and suddenly the birds flapped their wings. A murder of crows lifted from the tree branches, leaving them bereft of shapes, and began to fly in my direction all at once. There seemed to be hundreds of them, thousands. I held my breath, held my coat tighter, as if it would somehow shield me from their attack. I crouched, on instinct, holding both arms over my head and shutting my eyes tightly. When the cawing quieted, not much, but a little, I peeked over my arm. Some of them were still flying around, but most seemed to be perched on the electric wire that hung from one street light to the next. The crosswalk gave me right of way. I stood quickly and jogged to the other side, heart pounding in my ears.

By the time I reached campus, I was grouchy, scared of birds, and reaching for my inhaler once again. There were about twenty people standing around, definitely freshmen—I could spot their overzealous yet self-conscious stances from a mile away.

“Is this the tour?” I asked.

“I hope so,” the guy said, “We’ve been standing out here for fifteen minutes and it’s cold as fuck and early as fuck.”

A girl wearing a gray sweater vest over a black long sleeve T-shirt walked over and waved her hands up.

“I’m Sandra, your tour guide.” She smiled brightly. “Follow me as we begin our walking tour through campus. Needless to say, campus is huge so I’m only showing you this portion today.”

I’d anticipated an orientation with her pointing around at different buildings and showing us things on a map. I didn’t think it would be a walking tour, a thorough one at that, but I followed along anyway. This was my last chance at a group orientation and I wanted to take it. Even if I learned something like, how to get from the Plant Science building we were walking into to the library in under twenty-minutes and without an Uber, I’d call this a victory. Sandra spoke about the architecture of the school, and how the original building, Old Stone Row, with arches and limestone trimmed arches, was built in a style called Second Empire. She moved on to talking about the library, and The Tower attached.

“Is it true people have meetings in that tower?” someone asked, interrupting her. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. That was what Hailey had told me.

“I don’t know,” Sandra replied. “That’s a rumor.”

We walked down a flight of stairs in the Plant Science building, and she a

“This was originally built to help science students transport things from point A to point B without losing parts or spilling things along the way. We now use it to walk between buildings without having to go outside when it’s freezing out,” she said, smiling. “One point if you can name another university with underground tu

“Northwestern,” I said quickly.

“Concordia,” someone chimed.

“University of Mi

“Okay, geez.” The tour guide laughed. “My last tour was impressed because they thought we were the only ones.”

“Your last tour was full of idiots,” one guy muttered.

A few people chuckled. I felt my lips tug into a smile as I tried to contain my own laughter. As we moved through the tu

My ears perked up at that.

“Where are those?” someone asked.

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I went around telling everyone.”

“But you know where they are?” someone else piped up.

“I have an idea, but I haven’t gone to search for it,” she said.

“Why not?” a few asked, again in unison.

“I guess I’m not the exploring type.” She stopped walking, her expression serious as she turned to us. “Besides, I’ve heard stories of people who have gone looking and . . . well, they haven’t returned.”

Her statement echoed through the tu

“Did you know we have our own zip code?” she asked.

“Yes,” everyone replied.

The campus was huge. So huge that I probably wouldn’t be able to explore it all in one year. Lincoln had once told me he hadn’t seen half of it and he’d been here four years.

“Tell us more about the secret societies,” someone said.

“No. I don’t think I’m getting any sleep tonight after the disappearing thing,” a girl added. “That’s not a joke, you know? Lana Ly is still missing.”

“I know as much as everyone else knows about the societies. Most of them are prestigious, as is to be expected coming here.” The tour guide smiled, clearly unwilling to go down the rabbit hole where the disappeared girls were concerned. “They do a lot of work in the community, donating money and goods anonymously during Thanksgiving and Christmas to those in need. Beyond that, I don’t know much.”

“Do you know anything about The Sphinx?”

“Only that they’re no longer around,” she said, “But, did you know Carl Sagan bought the building they used to meet in? He turned it into his writing cave slash house. I believe it’s privately owned now.”

“Probably by another secret society,” Nightmare Girl muttered, shuddering. Some people laughed.

“Or maybe by family members,” Sandra responded.

I decided to break off from the tour at that point. I’d had enough with the disappearance talk, secret tu

Unknown number: I know what happened to your brother