Free Waking Rose: A Fairy Tale Retold by Regina Doman Page B

mean simply eating meals and studying together) over the course of the semester. Rose had met one or two of them and had found them pleasant, but lacking the strong personality of her roommate.
    The Sacra Cor dormitory was where the riffraff collected, or so the saying went—the male students who didn’t fit into any particular mold. It was hard to predict just where they would stand on any one issue or practice. Among the Cor guys, the only two Rose knew of who supported Kateri’s protests were Paul and another student, James Kelly. The rest would rather argue endlessly about the nuances of civil disobedience, or play video games.
    “All right,” Rose said, “Maybe I’ll ask one of the Cor guys.”
    “Paul Fester seems friendly enough,” Kateri said carelessly, and Rose couldn’t help feeling a bit warm as she left the room.
    On the way up to the theatre, she actually ran into Paul coming out of the library. They chatted for a few minutes, and she summoned up her courage. “Hey, Paul, I need a ride tomorrow.”
    “Where to?”
    “There’s an old barn in the country my family owns. My dad kept his old files there, and I need some of them for my bioethics paper. So I need a way to get out there.”
    “Oh, no problem—I could drive you,” Paul said. “I have a car. And it sounds like fun. When do you want to go?”
    “Just sometime tomorrow,” Rose said, feeling relieved. “After breakfast.”
    “Sure thing. I’ll meet you at the caf and we can go,” Paul said, a grin creasing his face. He always looked like a little kid when he smiled.
    “Thanks,” Rose said, “See you then!” She hurried on up to the theatre, relieved. And it would be fun to go with Paul. He seemed like the sort of person who would enjoy an outing of that sort.
    At play practice, they were rehearsing the first scenes with the three princesses, Cordelia, Goneril, and Regan. It wasn’t a long scene, but it was still an important one. When Rose got there, she picked up her script and began to get into character. Some people had not yet arrived.
    Finally, just as Dr. Morris started the rehearsal, the back door of the theater slammed open, and Donna and Tara, who were playing the wicked sisters, walked in. They glanced around, rather superciliously, at everyone staring in their direction, but didn’t apologize.
    The director, Dr. Morris, was annoyed. “Three sisters, stage left, and wait for your cue,” he said.
    “How are you?” Rose asked Donna, as the blond girl sat down next to her on a wooden bench backstage.
    Donna said nothing in reply, but merely looked at her frostily, then turned away. She said something to Tara instead.
    Rose dropped her eyes and turned back to her script. She was getting used to this sort of treatment from Donna, almost as though Donna were perpetually rehearsing her part as the evil older sister, even offstage. It certainly made it easier to act with Donna onstage, but offstage it was distinctly uncomfortable, as though the lines between illusion and reality were being deliberately blurred.
    When rehearsal was over, she stayed behind to talk to Dr. Morris about becoming a theatrical assistant, which was the student work job she had applied for. By the time she left the theatre, all the other students had left.
    Shrugging her shoulders, she walked out of the building and started down the hill to the dorm, whistling to herself.
    It was much nicer walking here at night than in the City, and she felt safer. But as she rounded the curve of the building, an eerie sensation came over her as she passed through an arch of dark bushes. It was almost as though she could feel something—or someone—watching her.
    Setting her jaw, she kept walking, her head up, outwardly careless, but inside, ready to break into a run if she needed to. She passed the clump of shrubbery and restrained herself from looking over her shoulder.
    But she could feel it: someone is there. I’m not looking back , she told herself.
    There