The rain batters my dorm room window like it's trying to shatter the glass. Every so often, the sky cracks apart with a rumble of thunder, which manages to stay audible no matter how many notches I crank up the volume on my earphones. And I do that every time.
It's not that I'm scared of storms, but something about them puts me on edge. The unrelenting noise, the sudden desertion—when I look out my window, a place that's usually teeming with life is like a wasteland. No life. No soul. No witnesses. Out there, anything could happen and nobody would notice.
I almost don't catch the vibration of my phone on the bedside table.
As I pull an earphone out, my white noise playlist fades into the other ear, and I lift my head from the pillow for a better look at the screen. It's not even eleven, so I tell myself I've not yet actually gone to bed, but being tucked up under the covers and staring blankly at the ceiling is pretty close.
It makes Elliot's name—and the two words that come after—all the more unexpected.
We're outside.
MORGAN: What?
For a first thought, it's all I have. Because for starters I live on the fourth floor—and unless they've slipped in behind someone else who typed the passcode for both the front door and the elevator, there's no way they can be standing outside my room. But before Elliot's three jumping dots have a chance to turn into a second message, I realize what else he could be getting at.
By the time his message—Look out the window—comes through, I'm already at the glass.
My room is at the front of the building, which means it overlooks the main entrance. Unlike my dorm last year, it doesn't have a full-sized parking lot; instead there's a square of concrete with a few disabled spaces, lined by a pathetic strip of trampled grass. The spaces are usually empty—probably because with six floors and an elevator that spends half its time out of use, Marshall Hall can hardly be considered accessible—but right now that's not the case.
My gaze lands on a beat-up silver Nissan, although the front bumper is a different color completely: bright, fire-truck red. The rest of the car looks like it's survived a war; there are dents all over and I'm not convinced some of them aren't bullet holes. Fazia's hanging out of the driver's side window, Adam in the back, and Elliot is standing under the porch looking right up at me.
It's kind of a weird sight.
I open the window the couple of inches health and safety regulations will allow, pushing hard when it gets stuck halfway. When I finally break the seal, three voices sail up to me through the rain.
It's impossible to make out words over the pounding of pavement and splitting cracks of thunder. Elliot's calling to me, but his voice gets swept away by the wind, reaching me only in splintered fragments that make no sense alone. Eventually, he notices my confusion. Then points to the phone in his hand.
His call comes through a beat later.
"What's going on?" I ask, when the phone connects.
"Weather. The theme is weather."
"What?"
Another rumble of thunder rings out, and I hear it twice, delayed by a second on Elliot's line. "The photography group," he says. "The daily theme. It's weather. And Adam's thing is landscape photography, so it's his time to shine."
"Okay..." I say slowly. "And you're outside my dorm because...?"
"Because we thought maybe you wanted to come along for the ride."
There's silence, as I'm genuinely taken aback, and it lasts too long because Elliot feels the need to jump in. "You don't have to," he says. "I just thought it might be fun. If you don't have anything else planned. Or if you want company. But you can say no. Obviously. No pressure."
"No," I breathe, suddenly worried that I've given him the wrong impression. Then I realize I've done exactly that. "I mean, yes. I'll come. That sounds fun."
Out of the window, I see Elliot smile. "Great."
"I just..." I glance downward. "Can you give me five minutes to get changed? Then I'll come down."
"Yeah, sure."
I'm about to hang up, but his voice stops me at the last moment. "Oh, and Morgan?"
"Yeah?"
From the porch, he catches my eye. "You might want to bring an umbrella."
***
Ten minutes later, I'm in the back of Fazia's car, with Elliot riding shotgun and Adam beside me. When I first shuffled in beside him, I felt too awkward to ask—but the question must've shown on my face anyway.
"The chair's in the trunk," he'd said easily, in a way that didn't make me feel like a moron for wondering. "It's not that I can't walk at all. I have a neurological condition that causes muscle weakness in my legs, so I can't hold myself up for more than a few seconds. But with these guys' help, I can get in here okay."
"Doesn't help himself at all, though," Fazia had piped up. "I'm sure he slumps against us with all his weight just to make our lives harder. He's a real damsel in distress."
"Fuck off," Adam said. But they both fell about laughing, and for those few seconds it had been loud enough to drown out the sound of the storm.
Now, I feel more put together after changing out of my pajamas, though I'm still not sure I'm dressed for the weather even in fleece-lined leggings and the thickest hoodie I own. I could use a raincoat, really, but in my haste to head downstairs I hadn't had the time to find one. At least I'd remembered Elliot's advice and snatched up an umbrella.
"So," I say, "weather, huh?"
"Yup." Adam nods. "It's broader than usual, but sometimes the admins like to give us a little freedom."
"That's a good thing, right?"
"It is," he says, "but it also means more people enter, so technically the odds aren't as good. And it's harder to stand out, because the most-liked photos get pushed to the top and attract even more likes. But when the theme is weather, and there's a fucking huge storm happening the exact same night? I can't pass that up."
"And not passing that up obviously means all four of us are out here braving the weather for the great picture he may or may not get," Fazia says.
But Adam isn't fazed. "I'm going to get it. Even if it means staying out all night."
"Speak for yourself," Elliot chips in. He catches both my and Adam's eyes in the rearview mirror. "I've got a biochemistry test in the morning."
"Which you already told me is a pop quiz that doesn't count toward your final grade," Adam counters. "So suck it. Plus, you volunteered to come."
Elliot grins. "I know, I know. I'm just kidding."
Adam rolls his eyes playfully. "Dick."
"Hey! Boys, play nice!" Fazia shouts, shaking the fist of her free hand in their direction. "Or I will turn this car around..."
"So where are we going?" I ask. "To get the shot, I mean."
The silence comes on abruptly, like a sudden loss of momentum and screeching brakes, even though the car is still cruising down the street. There are sideways glances and the meeting of eyes in the rearview mirror. With a simple question, I appear to have rendered the three of them speechless.
"About that," Adam says eventually. "I don't actually know."
Fazia holds up a hand. "Wait. Where am I driving to, then?"
"You mean you have no idea where you're going?" Elliot asks, frowning. "When you guys picked me up, I just figured you'd already made a plan."
"I'm just heading off campus! I was expecting Adam to start giving me directions."
"And I was hoping you guys would come up with a brilliant idea along the way..." Adam confesses. "Which suddenly doesn't seem so likely."
"It's your photo," Elliot points out.
"I know, I know!" Beside me, Adam holds up both hands in defence. "But they only posted the theme at six, and the storm came on so quickly... I figured we just had to grab the chance and work out the details later. But I guess this is later."
Elliot shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, I don't have any ideas. You know I've never shot a decent landscape in my life."
"I just need an unobstructed view of the sky. Maybe a way to get some part of campus in, if it's possible. The clock tower would look insane, all lit up like that. But I don't think being at the base would capture the scale properly. And if we were anywhere else on campus, I think there'd always be at least one ugly building in the way..."
"I know somewhere."
Two heads turn to look at me. I'm sure Fazia's would too, if she wasn't so focused on not crashing the car amidst the torrential rain. I guess none of them were expecting me to speak. Really, neither was I.
"You do?" Adam asks.
It suddenly feels like a lot of pressure. "I mean, I don't know anything about photography, so I don't know if it'll make a good shot," I say. "But it's got a really great view of campus."
I can tell he's hopeful. "I'm all ears."
Elliot's also looking at me, twisted in the passenger seat, seatbelt stretched to the limit. I don't know why it makes me feel so nervous. "Parking garage D," I say. "The top level."
In the rearview mirror, Fazia frowns. "The really ugly one? By the robotics building?"
"Yeah."
"You don't see the ugliness if you're standing right on top of it," Elliot points out.
"Exactly." I catch his eye and nod. He smiles, and then as quickly as we connected, something shifts within me and I'm struck by the compulsion to look away. I pretend to adjust the clip on my belt and hope he doesn't read into it.
Because I know what's changed. It's not the typical flush that comes with speaking up when I don't usually; it's the delayed onset of something unfamiliar yet unmistakable. It creeps up from the pit of my stomach like unrelenting nausea.
Betrayal.
I'm tethered to that place by the thread that linked me and Josh together, and inviting other people there—let alone his brother—feels like severing it.
I'm not doing anything wrong, but I can't seem to tell my mind that.
"Well, I'm sold. I think Morgan's onto something." Adam slaps the back of the driver's seat. "Parking garage D. Let's go, Faz."
She slams on the brakes like she's about to hit something, sending us all lurching forward inside the car. My belt almost slices through my throat, and I reach up to rub the tender skin as she rounds a particularly sharp corner.
"What the hell?" Elliot cries.
But Fazia just flashes us a smile, teeth glinting like the stud in her nose. "Sorry. You wanted campus, and I was just about to miss the turning."
She hits the gas again, and we speed down the street toward campus, faster than we really should be travelling in this weather. Adam reaches between the two front seats and twists the dial on the radio so an upbeat Ed Sheeran song blares through the car, and once Fazia starts singing at the top of her lungs it doesn't take long for the other two—and then me, reluctantly—to join in. And I'm sitting there in the middle of it all, wrapped up in a bubble of warmth and chaos and shielded from the storm outside, wondering how I've ended up here.
Coming back to college wasn't supposed to feel like this.
Life after Josh wasn't supposed to feel like this.
In the rearview mirror, Elliot catches my eye and smiles.
I don't believe in any kind of afterlife, but if I did, I think Josh would be watching over me right now.
-------------------
It's been a while since I wrote this chapter, so I was rereading it before posting and suddenly remembered how much I love it. The conversation between Elliot, Fazia and Adam flows so naturally, it's like they're writing themselves. And they're exactly the kind of friends Morgan needs right now.
Do you agree? I'm intrigued to know: are you preferring the BEFORE or AFTER chapters right now? I have a preference, but I'll keep my lips sealed because I want to know if you think the same...
Until next time!
- Leigh