My hand trembled as I reached out to hover my fingers over the symbol on the painting, but my lips curved into a smile. Now that I’d noticed the symbol, I could sense Cade’s presence in the energetic strokes of the stark acrylic colors. He wasn’t an artistic prodigy, but he’d brought a vigor to the image that made up for its flaws.
It didn’t matter what the weirdo dean or the jackass students said to me. He’d been here, just as I remembered him. I had the proof hanging right in front of me.
So where was he now?
Chapter Two
Trix
I backed away from the painting with Cade’s starburst signature and nearly bumped into a guy I hadn’t heard coming up to me.
“Hey there,” the guy said, catching my elbow just before it jammed into his ribs. He shot me a flash of a smile to show he took no offense and released my arm gently by my side. “You look a little lost. New to the school?”
Apparently not all the students here were total pricks. This one was what back home I might have dismissively called a “pretty boy”: features so soft they were almost androgynous, intense golden-brown eyes, silky straight hair that fell to just below his ears. But the smooth black strands were shot through with punk-bright green, a silver ring pierced the end of one of his arched eyebrows, and over the top of his khaki-green cargo pants, his deep purple sweatshirt was screen-printed with a bold scarlet tiger. Clearly not so soft after all.
Maybe he was another scholarship student—which might mean he’d have been more likely to have talked to Cade. A jolt of hope shot through me.
“Sort of,” I said. “I’m not actually going to be attending classes or anything, but my brother was. He started here back at the beginning of the school year—I’m trying to find out if he’s still on campus, or if not, where he might have gone.”
If the guy thought my dropping in out of the blue was weird, he didn’t show it. His voice came out mellow if a bit hoarse. “I might be able to give you a hand. What’s his name?”
“Cade Harrison. About this tall.” I held my hand half a foot over my head. “Blond hair. Would have dressed more like you or me than the posh kids. He was here on scholarship.”
The guy rubbed his jaw. “Cade… I don’t know. That doesn’t ring any bells for sure. But we can take a look around if you want some help.”
My spirits deflated with his response, but I couldn’t see how it’d hurt anything to have a tour guide if this guy wanted to offer his services. I’d at least work my way through the school faster that way. “All right. The dean said I can talk to whoever I want as long as I don’t bother anyone in class or doing schoolwork. I was going to head down that way.” I pointed to the hall.
“That’s a perfectly good place to start.” The guy raised his hand in belated greeting. “I’m Ryo, by the way.”
“Trix,” I said. “Short for Beatrix.” I fixed him with a look stern enough to convey that if he tried to make use of my full name, he’d regret it.
“Trix. Excellent. Let’s see what we can find.” He gave me another smile, but at the same time his eyes crinkled at the corners in a way that gave his expression an unexpectedly melancholy cast.
That solemn impression vanished as Ryo switched into easygoing tour-guide mode. “The first floor has most of the professors’ rooms and the non-educational common areas,” he said, and pointed to the first room beyond the doorway. “Dining hall.”
A few students were sitting at the eight-seater wooden tables inside, one of them gnawing on a muffin, the others using the space for some midday reading. I guessed that would probably count as the sort of schoolwork the dean had ordered me not to interrupt.
As I glanced inside, a couple of the inhabitants looked up. At the sight of us, one made a slight grimace and the other turned back to her book with a roll of her eyes. The overall student population seemed to have a grudge against newcomers. Maybe I needed to wear a sign with flashing lights saying, I’m only here until I find my brother.
Ryo nudged open the next door down to reveal a space full of ceramic countertops, antique appliances, and shelves of pots, pans, and dishes. A guy was clattering silverware in a sink full of soapy water; two girls across from him were assembling sandwiches on wooden cutting boards. They already had a stack of at least a dozen on a platter.
“Kitchen,” Ryo said, as if that wasn’t obvious.
“The students do the food prep and cleaning?” I asked. Or maybe the college had a culinary program—although I didn’t see a teacher overseeing this bunch, and sandwiches were hardly high cuisine.
Ryo nodded, his green-and-black hair swinging with the motion. “We handle pretty much everything around the building—cooking, cleaning, laundry. It’s all assigned in shifts. You get used to it pretty fast.”
I’d never heard of a college, let alone an uber-exclusive one, where the attendees also functioned as the housekeeping staff. So much for their snobby airs. Did the girl who’d given me that disdainful sigh wash dishes in her silk blouse and tailored jeans?
“I guess it’s a pretty small place overall,” I said. Maybe it simply wasn’t practical to try to house a full staff when the students could pitch in.
“Well, you’ve only seen one part of it.” Ryo moved on down the hall. “Exercise room,” he said in reference to a space with a mat-covered floor and weights stacked in one corner. A guy’s muscles bulged as he did a standing press with a large set. Across from him, a girl was hopping from one foot to the other over the whirl of a dingy-looking jump-rope.
“Hey,” Ryo called out casually, as if breaking their workout concentration was no big deal. “Either of you remember a guy named Cade Harrison?”
The guy’s gaze flicked to us and then away again with a brusque shake of his head. The girl didn’t slow her rhythm. Her lips pursed as if the question annoyed her. “Can’t help you.”
That didn’t mean she knew nothing, I couldn’t help noting, only that she didn’t feel like sharing what she knew. I eyed her for a moment before following Ryo onward.
We passed a closed door to what Ryo said was the infirmary, an empty music room with shelves of instruments along the walls, and a smaller space lined with clothing racks that I guessed was costuming for some sort of theater department, although Ryo simply called it “the wardrobe.” Before I needed to say anything, he asked the girl who was pawing through the racks if she knew anything about Cade. She waved us off with mild irritation. When I glanced back at her, I thought I caught a glare just before she jerked her gaze away.
Was answering that question really that huge of a nuisance? A creeping sensation was starting to spread over my skin.
Even Ryo’s attitude took on a small but noticeably impatient flavor as we emerged back into the foyer. He flicked his hand toward the righthand hallway. “Nothing down there except teachers. If the dean couldn’t help you, they won’t either. Come on. Classrooms are on the second floor, dorm rooms on the third.”
As we headed up the stairs, I studied him more carefully than before. Why was he being so helpful, anyway? I’d thought maybe he’d been happy to see someone whose attitudes, at least about personal grooming, aligned more with his than those of the other students I’d encountered so far. But I was getting the feeling that he’d already decided this quest wasn’t going to lead us anywhere, so he was ushering me through the tour and the questions as quickly as possible without overtly rushing.