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

the numbers. “Are you a current student?”
    “Yes. I just arrived this semester.”
    “Maybe they haven’t inputted your number into the system yet. Let’s try your name.” Shazia spelled it out.
    The woman typed. Then she shook her head. “That doesn’t work, either. You sure you’re current?”
    “They might have her in the general student population,” Peter said. “Maybe we should check Tower East.”
    “Tower East’s already full. We’re taking their overflow.”
    Something knocked the backs of Peter’s legs. He turned around to see a tall boy standing close behind, burdened with backpack, sleeping bag, and a row of bags. “Sorry,” the kid said.
    Peter nodded and turned back. He held out the card he wore clipped to his pocket. “I’m her advisor,” he told the woman. “I can vouch for her. Could you assign her a room now and we’ll straighten out the details later?”
    “I’m sorry, Dr. Brooks. You’re not the first person to ask me that tonight. If I bend the rules for you, I’ll have to bend them for everyone.” She handed Shazia back her card.
    “But she’s entitled to temporary housing.”
    “Only if she’s a currently registered international student.”
    Peter was losing his patience. “She is a currently registered student.”
    “Not according to my records. Maybe there’s some problem with her tuition payments.” Peter glanced at Shazia. She looked helpless. “I don’t know.”
    “Whatever the problem is,” Peter told the woman, “I’ll get it sorted out tomorrow. Let’s just find her a room now.”
    “I’m sorry, Dr. Brooks.” She looked pointedly behind Peter.
    “Next.”
    “Her dorm’s closed. She has nowhere to go.” His cell phone was ringing. He could feel it vibrate against his hip. He pulled the phone from his pocket.
    “Fine.” The woman sighed. “Tell you what. Why don’t you wait against that wall and I’ll find someone to help you.”
    Sure she would. He glanced down at his phone and flipped it open. “Excuse me,” he said, then spoke into the phone. “Kate, honey, can I call you back?”
    “Dad? Where are you?” She sounded teary.
    “I’m at work. Why? What’s the matter?”
    “Mom said she’d be gone an hour, but it’s been way over two hours. She’s not answering her phone.” Her voice went up, sailing clearly from the tiny mouthpiece. “I just saw on the news that someone got shot at Kroger.”
    “Dr. Brooks?” the clerk said impatiently.
    “Is that where she is?” Peter asked Kate, alarmed.
    “I don’t know. She told me she was just going to the store. She didn’t tell me which one.”
    “Dr. Brooks, I have to ask you to step out of line.”
    “It sounds like your daughter needs you.” Shazia put her hand on his sleeve. “You go, Peter. I’ll figure something out.”
    He hesitated, feeling torn. He looked around at the crowds shoving to get into the lobby. How could he abandon Shazia in the middle of this chaos, with no certainty that she’d find a place to stay? But how could he ignore his daughter’s plea, especially now, after a year of virtual silence on her end? He couldn’t even remember the last time she’d turned to him for help.
    “Dad?”
    Shazia placed her palms on his chest and gently pushed. “Go.”

TEN
    J ACOB WAILED THE ENTIRE TRIP HOME. ANN SAT IN THE backseat beside him, rubbing his cheek with her thumb and holding the pacifier in his mouth. “Hang on, little guy. We’re almost home.”
    Her leg was throbbing. She’d have to ice it the minute she got a chance.
    “What’s he doing here?” Libby asked.
    There was a pickup parked in her driveway. Though it was too dark to make out the color, Ann recognized the shape immediately. Peter. He didn’t usually stop by unannounced. “I have no idea.”
    Libby began hauling out sacks of groceries and lining them up in the driveway. Ann limped around the back of the minivan and lifted out a heavy bag. “I’ve got it. You go home and feed