Intrinsical - Lani Woodland [9]
Cherie pulled out the schedule of events for the day. “We have the campus tour this morning.”
“Should be thrilling.” My voice dripped with sarcasm like the syrup leaking from my pancakes.
“I know. But before that, we can go on our ghosting expedition,” Cherie promised enthusiastically.
“And how much trouble are we going to get in if we get caught?” I asked, fully aware that most of Cherie’s grand schemes included breaking at least a few rules.
Cherie paused before answering, a little too angelically, “Not too much.” Somehow I didn’t believe her. “After that we get our schedules, books, et cetera,” Cherie said between bites of a blueberry muffin. “Then we have an hour for lunch and some free time.
Free time, I thought to myself with a smile. I considered a couple of ways I’d like to use my free time and my eyes wandered around the room searching for Brent. Not seeing him, I swallowed down my disappointment with another bite of pancake.
As soon as my plate was empty, Cherie stood up, eyes full of anticipation. “Alright, let’s go.”
I followed her out into the foyer, taking a left instead of the right that would have led us back to our dorm. We walked through the covered breezeways, then cut across the lush lawns and around the Spanish Revival-style buildings. Cherie navigated us through several paths and one very long steep set of stairs, which in turn led through a stand of fragrant eucalyptus trees. Our journey continued as we passed through a wall of ivy, a field of wildflower weeds so tall they almost stretched above my head, and on through a maze of denser trees that had grown so wild they created a thick barricade, almost impossible to get through.
Finally, hot and sweaty, we ended up in front of a rather dilapidated brick building. It was so worn down that piles of broken bricks and charred boards were strewn among the tall thorny weeds surrounding it.
The fact that the interior had been burned out was evident by the black fringes framing the broken windows. More recently, vandals and partiers had left it pretty much trashed. I could tell by the many cigarette butts littering the ground that Pendrell’s no smoking policy wasn’t enforced here.
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Where are we, exactly?”
Cherie’s bottom lip protruded in a pout. “Didn’t you listen to me at all last week?” Not waiting for my reply she added, “This is the old sports house, more importantly, home of the original pool.”
“Did you bring our swimsuits?”
She gestured toward the building, her nostrils flaring. “It happens to be the most haunted place on campus. The book says it’s basically been left undisturbed.” Cherie walked toward the crumbling building and looked through one of the cracked windows. I came up next to her and peered in as well.
The lobby looked to have originally been done in dark woods though they were now scarred black, burned and heat-blistered. Protruding into the foyer was the curved cylinder of a revolving door, wrapped in the same wood paneling that decorated the walls. The stainless steel moldings arched out sinuously into the room above the door, their dull metallic sheen now tinged blue. The fire had left behind only charred remains now littered with the trash and debris of decades of neglect.
Cherie grunted as she tried the door handle forcefully, but it was locked tight. “I figured it would be, but I thought I’d still give it a try,” she said as she eyed the window hopefully. I shuddered as I pictured one of us trying to shimmy through the pointed shards of glass glistening in the sun like cold, cruel sentinels. Cherie shook her head and stepped on an empty beer can, crushing it.
“I think the pool’s closed today,” I joked. “Something about not having a lifeguard on duty.”
Cherie gave a polite laugh, her eyes still surveying the entry options. “They