Turn

26

With her eyes closed, Virginia was in the cemetery back home, her place of peace and solidarity. She walked through the wrought-iron gate, down the small path, and felt a warm, spring-like breeze instead of the crisp one that she felt over her skin. As the wind shifted in her mind's eye, she felt her body escaping the college campus and walking instead through that cemetery. But as she did, she felt her tiredness take over and the death-grip with which she had held onto reality beginning to loosen.

She was no longer strolling through a memory, but in a construct of her own imagination. As she neared the place where the tombstone stood, the only one she'd ever really cared about, she saw a change. The grave marker was no longer there. It was only withered, yellowing grass in place of where the small monument had once stood. Virginia dropped to her knees and ran her hands over it, her fingers itching as the grass that died more every moment scratched at her. Where is it? She demanded, but who would be there to hear her? She demanded it back, calling forth the image of it in her mind, but it would not appear. This place was no longer a comfort. It was no longer under her control.

"NO!" she screamed, snapping back to reality like a rubber band. The wind was cool, her hands pressed into stone instead of dying grass, and her feet touched hard ground. She was there again, in her body, in the place she realized at that moment, she had begun to call home.

Virginia wasn't sure if her outburst had been aloud or just in her head, but she was glad that there was no one around all the same. She slowly remembered herself and the situation around her, then rising quickly to go find her friend. Tracey worried her. The image of the cuts on Tracey's legs worried her in a different way than worry had come over her in the crowd. This was the kind of worry that didn't go away with breathing exercises but the kind that ate at her insides until she couldn't handle it anymore. Her fear for Tracey, especially in this state, made her deeply nervous and it propelled her forward. Coming back to the mass of people, Virginia looked to where she and Tracey had been standing, but the girl was no longer there.

There was no need to panic, that Virginia knew. Tracey probably moved in the crowd, or was hidden by one of the many people bigger than her. Virginia moved to circle the group, moving her head like a bird to try and see through. For a moment, she considered going in to try and find Tracey, but quickly reconsidered, knowing she would be no good to Tracey if she panicked again. Spinning around, Virginia spotted Dana standing by the table with the punch. She stalked over to Tracey's roommate, hoping desperately that Dana would have helpful information.

"Where is she?" cried Virginia.

"What?" Dana blinked, suddenly aware there was a person next to her.

"Tracey. What happened? I don't see her anymore," snapped Virginia impatiently.

Dana shrugged. "Oh, right. Well right after you ran off, she said she just couldn't handle it anymore, and she left."

Virginia thought again of the scars on her dear friend's legs, and she felt like she might throw up. "Why didn't you stop her?"

"I'm not her babysitter," Dana said dismissively.

"Well you kind of were," snapped Virginia, and wanted to add a bitter remark about Dana's conduct, but said only: "Whatever. Do you know where she went?"

"Back to our room?" she shrugged, obviously neither knowing nor caring if she was right.

Rolling her eyes, Virginia turned and walked away. She would find Tracey herself. After all, she was Tracey's real friend while her roommate was most clearly not. Her finger itched to call Quinn for help, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He had done so much already, with everything, and she couldn't stand the idea of needing his help again, of needing him. She might have called Greyson, but he seemed to be in a world all his own that night and not in hers, wrapped up in the girl on his arm.

Walking away from the party, Virginia padded along the concrete and looked down at her phone. She scrolled past Quinn's number to get to Tracey's, and she called her as she walked, but there was no answer. Just below the mountain of steps that led up to Eaton Hall, Virginia took a breath and mounted the stairs. The stone was cold on her feet as she pulled up her dress to free her legs. Somewhere after the first flight, she started to hop up them, almost running. She dashed over the blue stones on the floor and ran toward Tracey's room. Virginia pounded on the door but there was no answer. For a minute, she listened at the door for sounds of life inside, but there were none of those, either. She told herself that meant that Tracey was somewhere else and not lying dead on the floor a few feet from her, just out of her reach.

Virginia's descent from the building was slower than her way up as she started to think about where else Tracey might go. Again, she thought of calling Quinn, but she didn't, angry that she had even thought of it. Tracey would have left campus most likely, in an effort to not run into Jay, but she wouldn't have driven. At least, Virginia hoped not. That meant Virginia was just a couple minutes behind. More like ten now, but Virginia was banking on Tracey tiring quickly and stopping to rest, or maybe getting herself together enough to call her back.

Barefoot, she walked along the sidewalk and left campus. She realized her shoes were still on the lawn but she didn't have time to go back and get them now. Her mind whirled trying to figure out where Tracey might have run. Left was the McDonalds and a few other stores that were closed by now, and to the right was just a residential area. Instinctively, Virginia turned left, but something made her pause. From the back of her mind, she remembered that to the right, just a couple blocks from the school was a cemetery.