Class - Cecily Von Ziegesar [89]
A gurney arrived powered by two medics.
“Patient is female, name and age unknown! Trauma!” the receptionist shouted at them.
The medics helped Patrick lift the girl onto the gurney, smearing the white sheets with blood. “She’s that girl from my sister’s grade,” one of them noted as they wheeled her away.
“Should I come back later?” Patrick asked the receptionist. “To see if she’s okay?”
The receptionist didn’t even look up. “That’s not up to me.”
The glass doors slid open and two burly policemen arrived wearing dark blue police-issue parkas and guns in their holsters. They were accompanied by the old ex-cop who managed Dexter Security.
“That your car parked there?” the Dexter Security guy asked. He pronounced “there” like “they-ah.”
Patrick nodded. “Yeah.”
“You’re not a student up to the college, are ya?” the guy said.
Patrick shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“He just brought a girl in,” the receptionist spoke up. “She wasn’t doing too good.”
The policemen approached him from either side and clasped his arms. “That car’s stolen,” one of them said. “How ’bout you come with us.”
21
The dorms were alive again. Everyone had returned from the party, or from wherever they’d been the night before—their girlfriend’s dorm, skiing at Sugarloaf, a friend’s house in Boston. It wasn’t a noisy return, not with exams starting tomorrow. That bitter pill would have to be swallowed or chewed or crushed up and snorted, with no rush or high as a reward, just a blue book and two hours of tedious hell. Studying was advisable, and now was the very last chance to do it.
Shipley woke up with a start. Her hair was crusted to her cheek and she needed a shower. Someone was knocking on the door. Next to her Adam yawned and sat up too.
“Hi,” he said, grinning.
The knocking began again. “Security,” the knocker explained with a shout. “We found your car.”
“Just a minute!” Shipley gathered the duvet around her shoulders and approached the door. Three months ago she’d arrived at Dexter a virgin. Now here she was, opening the door and talking to Campus Security with only a duvet around her while a naked guy lay sprawled on her bed. She opened the door and smiled pleasantly, like it was no big deal.
“You Miss Gilbert?” The security guy didn’t seem to notice that she wasn’t wearing any clothes. He didn’t seem to notice Adam either. He’d probably seen it all in his day.
Shipley nodded and he handed over her wallet. “Car’s parked in the lot across the way. You better go down to the police station when you get a chance. Guy stole the car is in jail. Claims he’s your—”
“I know who he is,” Shipley said curtly. “He didn’t leave a note, did he?”
The security guy frowned. “Not that I’m aware of.”
Behind them Adam cleared his throat. His red boxer shorts lay like a deflated balloon on the linoleum floor.
Shipley held out her hand. “May I have the keys, please?”
The man handed her the keys. “There’s lots going on this morning,” he said as he turned away. “You people was busy last night.”
Just then Eliza came barreling down the hall, her bangs all tangled and bits of hay stuck to her coat. The security officer stood aside to let her pass.
Shipley slammed the door closed in Eliza’s face and threw Adam his boxers. He scrambled into them while she put on her bathrobe.
“HELLO?!” Eliza burst in a moment later. “What the fuck did you do that for?” She took in the scene. Shipley’s jeans were all wadded up at the bottom of the bed. Her ironed underwear lay where it had been flung, halfway across the room. “Fucking A, Slutcakes, you move fast!” She kicked off her sneakers and thrust her feet inside a pair of red rubber rain boots. “Hey, you guys have to come outside and see this. Nick’s yurt is on fire. Come on, get dressed. I swear, it’s amazing.”
She waited outside for them while Shipley and Adam got back into yesterday’s clothes.
“I can’t believe I still haven’t had a shower,” Shipley said.
It was the only thing either of them said. Adam was embarrassed. Being alone with Shipley