The Gloaming Girls

EPISODE ONE (Part 5/6)

The first day of classes always freaks me out a little. Especially at Carthwright. I remember my first day here vividly, the certainty that I was the only one terrified, and my first class had been a large one like this one, four hundred students all smashed into a dark auditorium. I'm here ten minutes early today, just like I was then. I guess some old habits die hard.

"Olyss!"

I startle at the sound, just in time to see Marlee limping up the aisle toward me, smile bright. "Oh hey, Marlee."

I'm surprised at how relieved I am to see a familiar face.

"Can I sit here?" She gestures to the seat next to me.

"Please." I scoot my backpack across the ground. "Good to see you again."

"I'm so glad I know someone," she says, as she settles down in the chair and begins rifling through her bag one-handed, setting things out in a precise order: computer, notebook, pencil, pen, eraser, water bottle, tea thermos. She starts typing in an empty document, Biology 201. "I was worried I'd be all by myself."

I fight down amusement, remembering my own eagerness in my first year. "Me too. Is this class a requirement for you?"

She nods vigorously so that her fluffy hair bounces in a cloud. "Yeah. I'm surprised I got in, since I was on the waitlist for so long."

"Do you know what you're hoping to major in?"

She's nodding again. "I haven't declared it yet, but hopefully history. That's why I've got to take this. You?"

"I'm a vet sciences major," I tell her. "So this is definitely a required class for me."

"Vet sciences!" she exclaims. "That's so cool."

I shrug, trying not to remember Emory's proclamation, but it comes anyway—you picked your major without being sure about it—and tell Marlee, "Yeah, I just love animals."

"That's so cool!" she says again. "Do you have any?"

"Not here," I tell her. "At home, yeah."

I think I catch a flash of red hair across the room, but then when the figure turns, it's not Callia. I'm surprised to be disappointed.

Marlee's looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry," I say. "What was that?"

"Oh. I was just saying that I wish I had a dog." She shifts in her seat, then she says, "Emory told me that you think you know who has my necklace."

"Oh," I say. "I didn't know whether to say or not. But yeah."

"So it was stolen," she hisses through gritted teeth. "I knew it."

"I'm getting it back," I tell her, "tomorrow."

"Who took it?" she asks.

I shift uncomfortably. "I don't know if I should say until I have it back and everything is confirmed."

"It was Haven, wasn't it?" Marlee says, and shakes her head. "No. Fine. I get it. Wait until you've got proof. Then I'll kill him."

I'm so startled by her vehemence that I laugh aloud. "Jeez. Okay. Maybe don't kill anybody."

She ignores me. "I mean, he—or, whoever took it—had to know what a big deal that would be, right? That would be like... like taking someone's crutches. No, wait. That's a bad analogy. It would be like... taking someone's heart monitor. Can you do that without tearing someone open? I don't know. It would be like—"