Free Hurricane Days by Renee J. Lukas Page A

she recognized me. Her long, highlighted caramel hair and twinkling dark eyes caught the sun as she stood there. She looked like a model in a magazine. Her deep red, silk shirt—the top buttons opened just enough to reveal her tan skin and long neck—clung to her chest. It was an image I knew I would always remember, like a favorite photograph you kept in your pocket even when it got tattered and creased.
    I rushed to catch up to her, and Adrienne said, “You’re just in time. I was gonna order a pizza.”
    “Oh, sure, make me fat.” I bumped her arm, teasing her. Although we’d begun like two anxious cheetahs sizing each other up in a cage, we’d quickly developed a familiarity that made us seem as if we’d been friends a long time. There was also an unmistakable spark between us, which made me nervous as well as excited. I was feeling giddy, my head floating somewhere up in the ozone as we walked together, feeling the warm, late afternoon breeze. The campus was so welcoming with rows of pink and orange hibiscus lining the walkways, everything flowery and friendly, matching my mood.
    My excitement only grew with the revelation of every new detail, like seeing Adrienne in different light or shadows, revealing each new expression as a dramatic close-up, as in a movie. Even the thrill of how a different color shirt could contrast with her face—it was another thing to look forward to each day.
    Inside the dormitory, Adrienne stopped at the sight of a chubby girl with cropped hair, walking in the opposite direction down the hall. “Oh God,” she whispered, gripping my arm. “That’s her .”
    “Who?”
    “The girl who…” she said, hesitating before pushing the elevator button. She spoke in hushed tones and waited until we were the only ones in the elevator. “She’s a queer. She cornered this other girl in the bathroom and tried to kiss her. She’s a total freak.”
    “How do you know she did that?”
    “The other girl told everyone. She was pretty freaked out.” Adrienne watched the floor numbers light slowly as the elevator rose. “I don’t blame her.”
    My stomach sank to my feet, and I wasn’t sure why. After all, I had nothing in common with that girl in the hallway. A heavy sensation spread over my body, as if Adrienne’s contempt had been injected into my heart. Did a minute pass? Maybe two minutes? When we got to the seventh floor, I followed her slowly down the hall and into the room.
    Adrienne slung her keys on her desk, at least I thought so. I heard the sound of them clanking against wood. When I looked up, she had the phone pressed to her ear.
    “You want pepperoni?” she asked.
    “That’s fine.” I unzipped my backpack and distractedly pulled out books. I wasn’t very hungry.

Chapter Thirteen
    In the wee hours of the morning, when the whole house was quiet and peaceful…this was Robin’s favorite time. She could be alone with her thoughts, away from cameras and her increasingly annoying staff.
    She climbed out of bed, careful to avoid a well-known creak in the floor. She couldn’t wake Tom anyway. His breathing rumbled on, low and steady, like an idling motorcycle. She envied his ability to sleep.
    Making it safely out of the bedroom, she slipped down to the library in her bathrobe and slippers, clicked on the light and turned on the computer at her favorite cherrywood desk. In the shadows were bookshelves stacked with Southern authors, a popular feature of the mansion library. Carson McCullers was her favorite of these authors, though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d relaxed with a good book.
    Robin had looked at the clock before she came down but couldn’t remember now if it was three o’clock or four. It didn’t matter; she knew she’d never be able to fall back to sleep. The curiosity was too much. She had to know. She had to see. Internet search history be damned. Planning to delete the evidence of her search afterward, she navigated to YouTube, where she