LITMIR.BIZ

      CHAPTER FIVE

      Thursday, 4:52 P.M.

      From the backseat of the air-conditioned Uber car, Hannah had gotten a good look at the town of Delmar and Our Lady of the Cove’s campus. The sleepy little town wasn’t as awful as her first impression of it. Delmar had a supermarket, a movie theater, and some decent-looking restaurants, but it wasn’t Seattle. The campus was actually kind of pretty with its trees and gardens, and a view of the lake.

      She and Eden asked the Uber driver to wait while they reported to the administration building, Emery Hall, where they were given freshman orientation packets and keys to their quarters: bungalow twenty, St. Agnes Village. Hannah suspected the squat, elderly woman at the reception desk in Emery Hall’s lobby was a nun. She wore a white blouse, a brown skirt, and what looked like orthopedic shoes. A crucifix dangled from a chain around her turkey neck. She cheerlessly informed them that the dorm cafeterias weren’t open yet, but the student union served food until nine, and the Grub Hub market attached to the student union carried some prepared meals to go. It was open until midnight.

      Back in the Uber vehicle, they continued down the campus’s main drag. Hannah noticed a turnoff ahead marked by a tall marble post at the edge of a garden. The words ST. AGNES VILLAGE were carved into the post, which looked like a tombstone. On top of the marker was a four-foot statue of a haloed girl, holding a lamb and a palm leaf. She was looking up at the heavens with a forlorn, pious expression on her face.

      Eden was checking her phone. “Says here that Saint Agnes was a virgin martyr, thirteen years old,” she announced. “She refused to give up her chastity, and so the Romans executed her by stabbing her in the throat.”

      “Swell,” Hannah sighed. “I’m just going to love it here, I can tell already.”

      “Didn’t you say something back at the train station about wanting to slit your throat?” Eden asked. “Well, you and Saint Agnes are like peas in a pod. And you’re both vir—”

      “Oh, shut up,” Hannah muttered.

      The Uber driver turned down the winding road, where a series of old, two-story, white stucco cottages were lined up close together on both sides of the street. Above every front door was a wooden crucifix—along with the bungalow number.

      Hannah hadn’t noticed many other students milling around the campus. But then, freshman orientation didn’t officially begin until tomorrow afternoon, and most of the regional and local freshmen probably wouldn’t be arriving until then. She doubted the tiny school attracted many students from either coast.

      “It’s bungalow twenty,” Hannah reminded the driver. She noticed the ground-floor windows on the sides of the cottages all had bars on them. The lawns in front were tiny and well-maintained. Hannah saw the even-numbered cabins on her right. They were approaching bungalow sixteen. “We’re coming up to it,” she said.

      But just after number sixteen, there was a slightly overgrown garden with a couple of Japanese maples, a bird bath, and another saintly statue. Hannah noticed the next bungalow down was number twenty. “Um, here we are,” she said. “This is us.”

      “What happened to eighteen?” Eden asked.

      Hannah was wondering the same thing.

      As the driver pulled up in front of the bungalow, Hannah saw the front door was open already—and so were the front windows. “That’s weird,” she murmured.

      “No shit,” Eden whispered.

      The driver popped the trunk. But Hannah didn’t want to get out of the car until she knew what was going on inside the bungalow. Eden didn’t move either.

      A young man stepped out of the cottage. He wore a blue-and-white-striped T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. Hannah guessed he was no taller than her, but he had a lean, athletic build and a healthy tan. His dark brown hair was combed to the side and fell over his forehead. As he approached the car, he broke into a smile—and all at once, Hannah forgot about Riley. This guy was so damn cute. “Eden? Hannah?” he called.

      She could hear him on the other side of the Uber car’s closed window.

      He opened the car door, and the hot air rolled in. “I’m Rachel’s friend, Alden, at your service. I’ll get your bags. Go on in. You’re just in time for the smudging ceremony . . .”

      “Hi, I’m Hannah,” she said, stepping out of the car.

      “I know,” he replied. As he headed toward the trunk, he smiled briefly at Eden. “And you’re Eden, hi.” He started to hoist the suitcases out of the trunk. “Rachel and I stalked you guys online. You’re both even prettier in person. Or is it creepy of me to point that out?”

      “Borderline creepy,” Eden said.

      Hannah laughed. “It’s not creepy at all!”

      “Are these my little sisters?” someone called.

      Hannah turned toward the bungalow and saw Rachel Bonner in the doorway. She held a smoking sage stick over a bowl. “Welcome to bungalow twenty, girls!”

      For a second, Hannah thought, Oh my God, she’s bat-shit crazy.

      She was wearing an outfit right out of the 1960s—Capri pants with a splashy, flowered pattern and an orange sleeveless top. Her brunette hair, which had been shoulder-length and wavy in most of her online photos, had been sheared off. It was cut in a pixie style with short bangs. Rachel ducked back inside with her sage stick and bowl.

      Hannah and Eden each grabbed a suitcase and followed Alden as he carried the two other bags through the doorway. They stepped into a living room, impeccably furnished in mid-century modern style—like something out of a West Elm catalog. There was a huge framed poster from the Audrey Hepburn movie Sabrina practically taking up a whole wall. Frank Sinatra was singing “Let’s Get Away from It All” on the music system.

      The bungalow was like something out of the 1950s. But it was the glamorous 1950s. A big-screen TV in the corner of the room seemed out of place.

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