Under the influence of a greater force none of them can explain, the six residents of the Meadows are prone to mass hysteria from time to time.
Still, they solemnly deny having anything to do with the two missing Yale students.
Nate is the captain...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
IF I had known that Marilyn Dardenne would be indirectly to blame for all of the tragedy that would soon plague my story, I would've killed her right there and then.
It wouldn't have been an easy feat. I would've needed to rely solely on my wit as there was no way I could physically overpower her, and even then I wouldn't have been able to do it all on my own. But knowing what I know now, I think murder can be a simple affair. It's the aftermath that complicates everything.
Marilyn had summoned me to her office early that Friday morning, only one week into term, and I immediately suspected she had devious plans. Partly because she never came with good news and mostly because Nate Fitzpatrick had already been sitting in her office by the time I arrived.
She had a very strange smile, Marilyn, very tight and wickedly amused. I always had a feeling she was keeping a secret. A ludicrous one. At my expense. Her white hair was styled with that attention to detail that I found inconceivable. Her frame was as slender and tall as ever, reaching a height of six feet tall with those 1-inch kitten heels she normally wore. She sat proudly behind her desk. The plaque with her name and the words Assistant Dean underneath sat radiantly on its eternal spot that was the right side of her desk. Recently polished as always.
There was a frigidness between the three of us that was palpable. I kept my shoulders tense, my chin high, and my eyes on Marilyn as if my life depended on it. Her smile stretched but the glimmer in her eyes was everything but warm.
"I know you're both wondering why I've summoned you here today," she said at last, sitting up even straighter in her chair. Her signature red lipstick was slightly smudged in the upper right corner. Just slightly, barely visible. Other than that, she remained suspiciously impeccable. "There is a grand announcement concerning the two of you that will be made in the upcoming weeks. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, I will not be the one to deliver said announcement."
Although I detested Nate Fitzpatrick, I'd always been a great enthusiast of his body language. I loved looking at him because I wanted to understand how it was that his every move seemed premeditated yet effortless. The way he pulled people in was catastrophic and I often found myself admiring it from a sociological standpoint. His impeccability couldn't have come naturally. Surely, there were moments of awkwardness and human error that plagued him just as ferociously as they did the rest of us.
