Free The Select by F. Paul Wilson Page A

nachos cooled on the Lucite
table between them. Tim had been drifting slowly away on a soft
golden mellow wave.
    "No, I mean it," Matt said, keeping
his eyes closed against the glare of the sun. "I told you there
were all those things I didn't like about the place. But I sloughed
them off. I mean, The Ingraham is such an ego trip. Then the other
night my father sits me down and says he and Mom really wish I'd
consider going to Yale."
    "Yeah, but Yale isn't offering you any
incentives."
    "They don't care. My father went to
Yale and Yale Law, my grandfather too, and I hadn't realized how
much the place means to him. And my mom...I think she just wants me
closer than Maryland."
    Tim felt bad. Hot. Suddenly the sun
was getting to him. Hell, he was so comfortable with Matt, and now
the guy was dumping him, which he knew was not really the
case.
    Tim tried to imagine his folks telling
him to kiss off over a hundred thousand bucks worth of tuition,
room and board just to attend NYU where his father had gone to
night school. Fat chance.
    "What did the Ingraham folks say when
you told them?"
    "Haven't yet," Matt said. "I've been
trying to figure a way to slip Quinn into my spot. Think I could
demand that they substitute Quinn for me?"
    "Yeah, right," Tim said. "That'll
work. They'll jump her over ten names on your say so."
    "You got a better idea?"
    "I might." A half-formed scenario had
been lurking in the back of his mind since the spring.
    "Well, let's have it. I need the input
of that devious mind."
    "Give me a minute."
    Tim lay back and closed his
eyes.
    The Ingraham...he'd really been
looking forward to having Matt around, even finagling him as a
cadaver partner. All down the tubes now. But that did
leave...
    Quinn.
    He'd spoken to her twice this summer.
She'd seemed a little friendlier each time, but still reserved.
Perhaps on guard said it better. He'd tried to wrangle a date but
she'd always been too busy with her jobs or her tuition hunting. If
he could come up with a way to get her into The
Ingraham...
    What had she said during that last
call? Something about how she'd become best friends with the
Admissions Office staff, how they were all pulling for
her.
    He bolted upright on the
lounge.
    "I've got it!"
    Matt opened his eyes, squinting up at
him.
    "Yeah? What do we do? What do I tell
The Ingraham?"
    "The first thing is you tell The
Ingraham nothing. The second is hand me that phone. I have to call
Ms. Quinn Cleary."
     
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
    Quinn felt awkward, uncomfortable,
scared too about this off-the-wall scheme, yet she felt she had no
choice but to accept Tim's offer to drive her down to Maryland. He
raced along 95 in a gray 1985 Olds Cierra that he seemed to love.
He even had a name for it.
    "Griffin?" she said when he told her
the name. "Why a griffin?"
    "Not a griffin. Just 'Griffin.' The gray
1985 Olds Cierra is the invisible car. GM sold a zillion of them,
or Buicks and Pontis that look just like it. I've parked this car
in some terrible neighborhoods and it's never been touched. Nobody
wants to steal it or bother it—nobody even sees it. So I named it Griffin,
which, if you know your H. G. Wells, is the—"
    "Name of the Invisible Man." She
smiled. Griffin—the Invisible Car. She liked that.
    After checking Tim's name on a list,
the guard in the gatehouse raised the gate and admitted him to The
Ingraham's student lot. Stiff and achy as she was after almost six
hours of confined sitting, Quinn didn't move from her seat when
they pulled into a parking slot. She stared ahead at the tight
cluster of beige brick and stone buildings that made up The
Ingraham. She hardly recognized the place. The trees had shed most
of their leaves the last time, now the oaks and maples were lush
and green. She watched a couple of new students hurry up the slope
to register.
    They've got to take me,
she thought. They've just got to.
    "Here we are," Tim said, glancing at
his watch. "Right on schedule."
    "Do you think this has even