Free The Things That Keep Us Here by Carla Buckley Page A

Someone was coming to her aid. A woman ran down the aisle toward them, shopping cart racing along in front of her. Long bleached hair, black leather, heels clacking on the linoleum.
    Ann smiled at her.
    The woman glared back, her heavily penciled eyebrows drawn down with annoyance. “Good job, Kenny.” She reached into Ann’s cart, pulled out a jug of water, and set it rolling into her cart. “The bread’s gone,” she told him.
    “So’s the milk.”
    Ann was frozen with disbelief. Without thinking, she slapped the woman’s hand away from a jug of water. “What is wrong with you people? Go get your own.”
    The woman slapped back. “You haven’t bought it yet. It’s not yours.” She yanked Ann’s cart toward her.
    “There’s more back there.” Ann grabbed the cart and shoved it behind her.
    “We’re not going back there,” Joan snapped. She took a step forward.
    Ann blocked her. They glared at each other.
    “Get out of my way, bitch.” The woman shoved
    Ann. Ann shoved back. Then Joan leaned back and punched Ann in the chest.
    Gasping, Ann stumbled back. Her hands curled into fists. Then she caught herself. Water. This was about water.
    From behind her, Kenny said, “We’re done here. Let’s hit the frozen-food aisle.”
    Ann wheeled around. Her cart was empty. Kenny had taken it all.
    He grabbed his cart, now loaded with bottles of water. Joan reached around and gave Ann’s empty cart a vicious shove. It cracked against Ann’s shin.
    The world blinked white.
    Then Ann saw Kenny and Joan farther down the aisle, reaching in and helping themselves to a stack of toilet paper from another person’s cart. The single woman pushing that was no match for the two of them, either.
    Ann never thought she’d have to shop in teams for safety.

NINE
    P ETER FOLLOWED SHAZIA DOWN THE OVERLY BRIGHT DORMITORY corridor filled with people and stepped aside to let an older man carrying a big carton pass by.
    “You got everything?” he was saying to the skinny brunette walking half a step behind him.
    “I got my laptop, Dad. That’s all I need.”
    Shazia paused in front of a door. A piece of paper was taped there, and she pulled it down, unfolded it, and scanned its contents. “Caroline’s already left.”
    Peter had met Shazia’s roommate, a tall and imperious girl from South Africa. He’d heard Caroline was a whiz in nanotechnology. “Where’s she going?”
    “She’s assigned to Tower West, too.”
    Good. Maybe they could room together. That would make the transition smoother for both girls.
    Shazia slid her keycard into the box mounted beside the door. Turning the knob, she pushed it open to reveal a small square space filled with the usual scarred oak furniture, doubles of everything—beds, dressers, desks. It didn’t take long for her to fold garments and pack them away. She placed some framed pictures between her sweaters before zippering the suitcase closed. She filled a second suitcase with towels and some personal items.
    It felt sad, this brisk uprooting.
    She straightened and glanced around. “I guess that’s it.”
    Tower West wasn’t far.
    The tall dormitory was ablaze with light. Buses idled at the curb, as people scurried across the bright courtyard. Peter pulled the pickup onto the grass at the end of a row of parked cars. Campus security wouldn’t be issuing parking tickets tonight.
    Lines of students snaked through the lobby, jockeying for position in front of the three card tables that had been set up by the elevators. A uniformed guard stood there, arms crossed.
    Peter and Shazia joined the crowd.
    When it was their turn, the woman at the small table looked up through the narrow glasses perched on the tip of her nose. “ID?”
    “Yes, of course.” Shazia set down her suitcase and dipped her hand into her briefcase.
    The woman took the laminated card and squinted at it, then reached for her keyboard. She tapped a few keys and frowned. She looked at the card again, then retried