The Education of Hailey Kendrick - Eileen Cook [48]
“Where the hell did you go?”
“You told me to leave. I was just taking your advice.”
“Did you seriously crawl out the bathroom window?” Kelsie giggled. “You should have seen Mandy when she figured out you were gone. She was practically foaming at the mouth. No one could figure out where you went. That one freshman girl who is always doing tarot cards actually wondered out loud if you’d disappeared. She thinks maybe the guy from town is a ghost or a vampire or something and that’s why you can’t tell anyone who he is.”
“She’s got to lay off watching all those paranormal TV shows.”
“She’s hoping you’re dating the undead, because it gives her hope that all her Twilight dreams might actually come true.” Kelsie stopped me on the landing. “Okay, be honest now. Why are you dressed like you’re homeless?”
“You don’t like the hat?” I fluffed my pom-pom.
“I would burn it before I would let it touch my head.”
“Well, don’t come begging me to borrow it later when it catches on as a trend.”
“Where did you go?”
“I went sledding.”
“Sledding?”
“And to Denny’s.” I broke into a smile. “I had a Grand Slam.”
“I have no idea what’s going on with you,” Kelsie said.
“I know. I don’t know what’s going on with me either, but I’m not sure it’s all bad.” I hugged her, took my books, and loped down the rest of the stairs to meet with Ms. Sullivan.
21
My favorite building on campus is the library. I love the smell of books and how the silence makes the place feel special, almost sacred. The corner of the library is a three-story stone turret room with thin windows. The room is full of several long wooden tables set with green banker lights making puddles of yellow light. Each of the windows is set out slightly, creating a small window seat. I always grab one of those to work in. It isn’t as easy as having the table as a desk, but I like to lean against the cool stone and look out the leaded glass windows. It feels like being inside a castle. A castle where you would never run out of things to read. Most of the students at Evesham don’t use the library often; they prefer to do their research online. As far as I’m concerned, the fact that it is often empty makes it even better.
My meeting with Ms. Sullivan had gone okay. I think she was excited to have a potential crisis on her hands. Her job had to be pretty boring most of the time, with people only showing up to talk about college admission options, roommate conflicts, and the occasional bout of homesickness. It would be like being a doctor where people only came into the office to have splinters removed or with stuffed-up noses. You’d have to look forward to someone coming in with a lawn mower amputation of the foot or a good cardiac condition. Most likely, thinking I was on the verge of an emotional breakdown had made her entire week. She got almost giddy when she saw a long scratch on my arm that I’d gotten while sledding. Ms. Sullivan thought she might have a cutter on her hands, and I could practically see her lift out of her seat in excitement. I’d hoped I would get away with just the one meeting, but apparently she didn’t think my emotionally fragile state could be repaired that quickly. I was going to have to see her weekly until she decided I was stable. I was tempted to make up multiple personalities to keep things lively for her, but I figured if I wasn’t careful I’d end up in the psychiatric wing of the hospital.
The librarian had helped me pull information on the history of Evesham. I carried the dusty pile of materials back to my window seat. I’d brought my cashmere wrap with me, and my plan was to curl up and pound out the paper for Winston. I propped my feet up on the bench, tucking