“Didn’t know if you wanted zombie dirt sprinkled on it or anything. If you’re eating this week.”

“Dork! Go on and eat, Claire—I’ll go get my own.”

Claire picked up the spoon and tried a tentative bite of the chili, which was thick and meaty and spicy, heavy on the garlic. Delicious, in fact. She’d gotten used to cafeteria food, and this was just…wow. Not. Shane watched her, eyebrows up, as she started to shovel it in. “’Sgood,” she mumbled. He gave her a lazy salute. By the time she was halfway through the bowl, Eve was back with her own tray, which she plunked down on the other half of the coffee table. Eve sat on the floor, crossed her legs, and dug in.

“Not bad,” she finally said. “At least you left out the oh-my-God sauce this time.”

“Made myself a batch with it,” Shane said. “It’s got the biohazard sticker on it in the fridge, so don’t bitch if you get flamed. Where’d you pick up the stray?”

“Outside. She came to see the room.”

“You beat her up first, just to make sure she’s tough enough?”

“Bite me, chili boy.”

“Don’t mind Eve,” he told Claire. “She hates working days. She’s afraid she’ll tan.”

“Yeah, and Shane just hates working. So what’s your name?”

Claire opened her mouth, but Shane beat her to it, clearly happy to one-up his roomie. “Claire. What, you didn’t even ask? A chick beat her up, too. Probably some skank in the dorms. You know how that place is.”

They exchanged a look. A long one. Eve turned back to Claire. “Is that true? You got beat up in the dorm?” She nodded, hastily shoveling more food in her mouth to keep from having to say much. “Well, that totally blows. No wonder you’re looking for the room.” Another nod. “You didn’t bring much with you.”

“I don’t have much,” she said. “Just the books, and maybe a couple of things back at my room. But—I don’t want to go back there to get stuff. Not tonight.”

“Why not?” Shane had grabbed a ratty-looking old baseball from the floor and tossed it up toward the tall ceiling, narrowly missing the spinning blades of the fan. He caught it without effort. “Somebody still looking to pound you?”

“Yeah,” Claire said, and looked down into her fast-diminishing chili. “Guess so. It’s not just her, it’s—she’s got friends. And…I don’t. That place just—well, it’s creepy.”

“Been there,” Eve said. “Oh, wait, still there.”

Shane mimed throwing the baseball at her. She mimed ducking.

“What time is Michael getting up?”

Shane gave her another mock throw. “Hell, Eve, I don’t know. I love the guy, but I don’t love the guy. Go bang on his door and ask. Me, I’m gonna go get ready.”