Waking Nightmares Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the night before. Pajama pants or stained sweats, a tangled nest of hair, a faded T-shirt . . . in warmer weather, when she couldn’t cover up with a sweatshirt, Tami would spare the extra seconds to put on a bra. Amber called it “junkie-hooker chic.”
    No one liked getting up for an early class, but Amber couldn’t go out without putting at least the minimum effort into her appearance. This morning she’d showered, pushed her coppery red hair back with a clip, and pulled on a clean, fitted cream top and a pair of jeans. She never managed even the slightest touch of makeup this early in the morning, but her face would have to do.
    As she walked along one of the tree-lined paths on Hawthorne University’s main academic quadrangle, she inhaled deeply of the September air. It had been warm yesterday, but now it felt more like mid-September—no longer summer, but not quite autumn yet. The morning felt good, though she would never have admitted it. She took a sip of her coffee, and all was right with the world.
    Hawthorne had not been her first choice of colleges. She loved her family, but going to the university in her hometown felt a lot like settling. There was no question that it was a great school, and it was the best of the universities to which she had been accepted. But for the first couple of years, it had almost felt as if she were still in high school. Too many of her childhood friends had not gone to college at all, or were attending the community college in Jameson, just a couple of towns away.
    Then, this past summer, she had spent a month in a study-abroad program in Talloires, France, and had barely seen any of her old friends before she’d left or after she had returned. Now she only ever heard from them if they got in touch on Facebook. She didn’t want to leave them behind completely—they would always mean something to her—but she was starting her junior year in college, and she had a new life, with new friends, and a future to start living.
    “Morning, Amber,” a voice said.
    She glanced over to see Ben Draper cutting across the grass to join up with her. He was a sweet guy whose tufted mess of hair, big hands, and goofy grin always made her think of him as a sort of giant puppy-boy. Amber always wanted to hug him, but she had a feeling that Ben hoped there were other things she wanted from him as well.
    “Hey, Ben.”
    “You forgot my coffee again, I see,” he joked.
    Amber feigned regret. “I’d give you mine but, y’know, cooties.”
    Ben grinned. He teased her about bringing him coffee nearly every time they had this class together. She was never without a cup, and happily endured the envious gazes of others in the class who hadn’t had the foresight to fortify themselves with caffeine before trudging onto the quad.
    “No one should have to get up this early on a Wednesday morning,” Ben said, falling in beside her as they approached Baker Hall, where the history department was headquartered.
    “It’s almost nine A.M.,” Amber said. “Most people with regular jobs are already at them.”
    “I know,” Ben replied. “Obviously I need to be independently wealthy, so I can sleep as late as I want.”
    Amber nodded, letting the sarcasm flow. “Yeah. So many history majors become independently wealthy.”
    He laughed and bumped her as they went up the front steps into the old brick academic building.
    “Hey! Watch the coffee,” she warned him.
    Properly chided, Ben stood aside and let her precede him through the inner door. Baker Hall had a musty, old-book smell that never went away, but Amber loved it. It was one of the oldest buildings on the Hawthorne campus, and she knew if she had the opportunity to search its closets and basements and eaves, she would probably find generations of history of the students and professors who had passed through these halls.
    “All right,” Ben whispered, taking a breath. “Ninety minutes of Professor Varick. I can make it.”
    “Stop.