Ben looked down at the linoleum tiles on the floor of his room and tried to find any kind of repeating pattern in the darker green and lighter green spots. He didn’t want to be in the common room, but he didn’t want to be in here alone, and he definitely didn’t want Ahmed to come in and find him here alone. He went down to Jed’s room once the clock read 11:02. Jed was there, peaceful with his black buzzed hair and hawk’s nose, reading a Punisher comic book while his roommate, Gavin, played Minesweeper. Jed had gone into town with a couple of guys on the football team, and Ben said he’d had to stay in: there had been a bit of a family emergency, nothing serious, but he had had to be on the phone and had missed Hutch and the other guys. Ben realized he hadn’t had any dinner and was abruptly tense with hunger, and Jed had some Doritos and Ben ate those. At 11:33 Ben decided to go to sleep just to close the door on the day and get up tomorrow and start new.

When he came back to his room it was still empty, and he was surprised. Ahmed should definitely have been back. He went to get his toothbrush and toothpaste out of the cup on his dresser.

The door opened, but it wasn’t Ahmed’s voice that said, “Hey, Weeksy.”

Ben looked up and saw Ian Richardson, the upper-former he had seen with Alice, staring intently into the room through an opening just wide enough for his face. Ian did a quick scan of the place.

“You all right, man?”

“Yeah,” said Ben. “Yeah, just got in. What’s up?”

“Here, come upstairs.”

Ben looked around for anything he might need.

They hurried down the hall as though they were already doing something against expectations. Ben thought of the little blue book, and somehow it seemed in support of what he was doing. Ben tried to think of something to say, but nothing came to him as they hit the hall door and took the stairs two at a time. He realized that Ian had already been drinking; Alice liked him in part because he could get wet.

As they came onto the third-floor landing, Ian pulled open the fire door into the Annex, the small hallway where two single rooms were situated along with the Chute. As soon as they came through, Ben could already smell the difference up here. It smelled like older guys. Right Guard spray deodorant, Salvation Army furniture, light patchouli, and the slightly nauseating off-brand Lysol that the cleaning crews used, which smelled almost more like hairspray than germicide. The guitar solo from “More Than a Feeling” wafted faintly out to them. Ben felt his chance; maybe everything wasn’t lost.