Maggie stifled an urge to break into a run. She could see the tidy row of freshman dorms just past the fountain and gazebo. Nearly there.

When she reached the first dorm, Finn Hall, four guys were exiting. Talking loudly about a hockey player’s injury, they formed a single file to trudge past Maggie. She avoided eye contact and stared straight ahead at the mountains, rolling in their layers, blue by blue by blue, cleanly outlined against one another—a teeming ocean under an empty sky. Off Finn’s steep roof, snowmelt dribbled and formed a wet shape on the building’s side, like a crouching shadow, but the front bricks shone pinkly in the light, and the windows reflected the day’s sparkle. The sun felt hot on her head. Maggie lowered her eyes from the glare and walked past the second hall, McCullers, and toward the third—Nash.

A young woman wearing a gray sweater solved the problem of Maggie’s lack of a cardkey. She stepped out just as Maggie got to the doors. With a murmured thank-you, Maggie slipped inside and blinked. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the gloom.

The smell of sweat and soap hung in the air. This familiar odor, combined with the familiar, dingy brown tiles, the familiar signs advertising meetings and readings, and the familiar, small whiteboards, colorful with loopy-lettered messages, hearts, and flowers, hit her all at once. She stood stock-still and tried to get her bearings. Everything was the same here, it seemed. Everything except herself.

Holding her coat together at her throat, she hurried past the doors. Sara had lived with her roommate, Tina, on the third floor. Their RA had occupied the largest room on the left-hand side at the far end. Hopefully, the first floor was set up in a similar fashion.

When she reached the last door, Maggie wiped her damp palm on the front of her coat and knocked.

The door opened immediately. “Oh.” A freckly woman, glasses askew and reddish braids coming undone, pressed a parted book to her chest and smiled. “I thought you were Flora. She left her key on the dresser.”

“Are you the RA?”

She shook her head. “That’s Flora. She went to pick up our pot stickers. She’ll be back soon…” Suddenly, the smile slipped. Her eyes bugged out. A hectic red seeped up her cheeks. She inched back. “Do you want to wait for her?” she asked reluctantly.

Maggie dropped her gaze. “I guess.” The floor was streaked with salt from the outside. “I don’t know. I’m looking for someone.”

“Maggie?”

Down the hall, Sara Wood leaned out of a doorway, her mouth hanging open. She looked like she’d seen a ghost.

Maggie could relate. “What…” She shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here. You know that.”