The Blood Between Us by Zac Brewer Page B

ceiling.
    Quinn wasn’t there, but he’d taken no time at all in getting settled in, and he’d taken my permission to do whatever he wanted to heart. His bed was wedged behind the door, covered in a quilt that looked like something out of Doctor Who . Tacked to the slanted beam on his side of the room were several photographs and bits of paper containing quotes that he’d either scribbled in a hurry or ripped from books. I read the first two I saw.
    “I have learned more from my mistakes than from my successes.”
    — Humphry Davy
    “Imagination is more important than knowledge.”
    — Albert Einstein
    I went about putting the rest of my things away. Once my clothes were in the dresser, I made my bed and plugged in my laptop, opening it up and hitting the power button. I entered the Wi-Fi password I’d been handed with my class schedule and immediately went to the student directory on the school intranet. Some of the names looked familiar, but most didn’t. It had been four years since I’d called the Wills Institute home, and most of the few friends I’d had back then were older and had since graduated. I was a strangerto the school now, just as it was a stranger to me. It seemed that a lot of Grace’s friends from four years ago were still in attendance. I immediately felt outnumbered.
    The door creaked open and I spun around to watch Quinn walk into the room, his arms full of books. As he dropped them on his bed, he smiled at me. “The bookstore is crazy right now. You might want to wait until after dinner to grab your supplies, if you don’t have them already.”
    “Thanks for the tip, but I’m all set.” I reached back and closed my laptop, guessing that now was as good a time as any to get to know the person I’d be living with, if only for a brief time. “So, Quinn . . . where ya from?”
    “About five miles from here. You?” He began picking up his books and organizing them on top of his dresser. Something told me I wouldn’t have to worry about having a messy roommate. In California, Connor had been a blast, but the guy had had no idea how to keep his laundry off the floor.
    “Here. Kind of.” He looked at me with a perplexed expression and I smiled. “I went to a boarding school out in San Diego for a few years, but I’m from here originally.”
    “What brought you back east? Senior year seems like a strange time to transfer.” He opened a package of pens and slid them into a coffee mug next to the books before dropping the packaging in the small trash can beside his desk.
    Inside my head, I saw Viktor—his cheeks sunken in,his skin pale and sickly. He looked like I’d feared he would look when I first saw him upon my return. Attached to his arms were tubes. Covering the table beside him were bottles of pills. The image of my parents’ lab flashed through my mind, too. I swore I could smell the burnt remains. Then there was Grace, sitting there all prim and proper. In her hands were the pages from my father’s journal. The corner of her mouth lifted in a sadistic smirk. Shaking off the daydream with a shiver, I said, “Family stuff.”
    “Oh, don’t get me started on family. You wouldn’t believe my back story if I told you.” He turned to face me, finished with tidying for the moment, and smiled. He was such a skinny little thing. Plaid shirt, wire-rimmed glasses. There was something familiar about his eyes, but I couldn’t place it.
    “I should tell you. I’ll only be here a month. So you might get this room to yourself, unless they assign you a new roommate after I leave.”
    “A month? You’re not staying through graduation?” He chewed his bottom lip for a moment, a distracted glint in his eyes.
    “I really have to get back. Wills . . . it’s just not where I want to be.”
    He nodded slowly and then said, “Hey, you wanna hit the dining hall? Grab some lunch? Hang out for a bit?”
    “Sure.” We headed out the door and I locked it behind us. The hallway was