Hysteria Read Online Free PDF Page A

stop. “About a mile that way I can get some signal.
     At the gas station.”
    The blond girl shuddered. “Not worth the risk. The locals are inbred.” She opened
     her eyes wide and leaned forward, like a warning.
    “They just don’t have dental insurance,” Curls said, waving her off.
    I smiled at Curls, but neither smiled back. Blond Girl had a fine white scar running
     across her chin, and she raised her hand to touch it, like she knew I was looking.
    “Well, anyway, I have a satellite phone,” said Blond Girl. Curls blinked heavily and
     shifted her jaw back and forth.
    “Early arrivals need to check in with Ms. Perkins. Housemaster.” Curls pointed up
     to the top of the building with the whipping flag.
    “On the roof?” I asked.
    Curls cocked her head to the side and pulled her lips into a hideous grin. “Oh look,
     a funny one.”
    And then they left.
    I dragged my luggage into the building on the right. A dorm, I guess. But for the
     money my parents were spending, I expected a little more. Automatic doors instead
     of the heavy wooden ones that creaked when they opened. Fancy artwork instead of wood-paneled
     walls. For Christ’s sake, the lobby didn’t even have a television. Just a handful
     of couches tossed haphazardly around the room. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see
     a moose head mounted on the wall.
    Through the window on a thick wooden door, I saw a hallway stretch down to my left,
     door after door after door. Like some asylum. There was a staircase at the back of
     the lounge, wall sconces illuminating the way up and down.
    I left my bags and went up, my flip-flops slapping at the steps. The stairs ended
     at the third floor with a single door.
    A woman not much older than me in sweats and a ponytail answered when I knocked, looked
     me over, and pushed her glasses up onto her nose. “You must be Mallory,” she said,
     with no inflection to her voice whatsoever. I must’ve look surprised that she knew
     who I was, because she said, “Your father spoke with the dean of students earlier
     today.” Then she nodded and said, “Very well then,” like she was playing some part
     and going back to her script. She pulled a blue stretchy bracelet with a key attached
     off the table along the entrance wall. “Room 102. Do you have a laptop?”
    Was I supposed to have a laptop? “No.”
    “You’ll get one tomorrow during orientation. And the cellular service is appalling.
     There’s a pay phone in the hall and vending machines in the basement. The cafeteria
     doesn’t open until tomorrow, I’m afraid.”
    I slipped the key bracelet onto my wrist.
    “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” And yet, as she said it, she slowly
     closed the door in my face.
    My steps echoed throughout the stairwell as I descended. Fresh start, like hell. Like
     this place could be anyone’s fresh start. Full of snotty people and arrogant buildings
     and way too many trees. God, there were so many freaking trees.
    I entered the barren lobby, void of all sound except the low hum of electricity buzzing
     from the lights, and I felt it.
    It. Him. Here, hundreds of miles from home. Here, in this emptiness. It was here, like
     a suffocating fullness to the room, humming along with the electricity.
    I didn’t understand. There was no reason for his soul or presence or whatever to be
     here. He’d probably never set foot here in his life. This place meant nothing to him — to us.
    And then I backed slowly into the stairwell again. Because I realized that whatever
     it was — a ghost, a soul, a ripple in the atmosphere — it wasn’t tied to my kitchen. It was tied to me.
    I took shallow breaths so nothing could really register in the pit of my gut. Colleen.
     I needed Colleen. I stumbled down the last flight of stairs, and I kept casting glances
     over my shoulder but there was nothing there. Except every time I turned back around,
     I felt something, or this almost something, pressed up