Where the Rain Gets In Read Online Free PDF Page B

in the corridor – a lot of loud and anxious conversation.
Everybody seemed to know everybody else, and Katie couldn’t understand how. It
didn’t occur to her that they might be as nervous and as apprehensive as Katie
was, and show it in a different way. All she saw was a confidence that bordered
on arrogance; unlike Katie, they had every right to be there.
    This was Katie’s first real contact with
a massed body of university students, and she wasn’t too sure what to expect.
The morning had been reassuringly anonymous – she registered with the
university, was issued with a library card, and directed to the Bursar’s office
to pick up her grant. She did what was asked of her, and retreated to her flat
in Hulme for lunch. But the afternoon was different: this was her introduction
to the Law department. If she was determined to go through with this – and she
was – she had to learn how to talk to these people. So she watched and listened
and waited in line.
    A desk was set up outside a lecture
theatre. Three employees from the Law department – the secretary and two of her
assistants – gave each student a seminar and lecture timetable, and directed
them into the theatre. Katie had deliberately toned down her usual clothes –
she wore her black combats, a plain top, and her leather jacket – but she could
see immediately that her appearance made the secretary uncomfortable. Katie had
hacked her hair short with scissors before leaving for the college that
morning; that might have been okay, but she also insisted on wearing an open
razor blade on a chain around her neck. It was this that was freaking out the
secretary.
    “McGuire,” said Katie, as she stepped up
to the desk. “Katie McGuire.”
    The student next to Katie looked up and
smiled.
    “Really?” he said. “My name’s Maguire.”
He turned back to the secretary’s assistant. “Mike Maguire,” he said.
    The coincidence of the names was too
much for the secretary to let go.
    “Now what are the chances of that?” she
asked, beaming. “Out of all these people – you’re not related, are you? No, you
spell your names differently, I see.”
    The other student held out his hand to
Katie.
    “I’m Mike,” he said. “I’m an M-A-G
Maguire; I take it you’re an M-C-G?”
    Katie saw the outstretched hand, but
didn’t know what to do. Well, she knew she should shake his hand, but she
didn’t expect the boy to be so formally polite – it didn’t seem a very
student-like thing to do. And he was just a boy – Katie knew she was a year or
two older than most first years, but this Mike looked to be about fifteen. Yet
he had the assurance of a twenty year-old that Katie could only wish for.
    “How do you do?” he asked. He had an
incredibly strong accent – so much so, that even these few words were almost
incomprehensible to Katie. What she heard was ‘Hadjadae?’ – or ‘Had your
day?’And what had he said about her name? She reached for the timetable
information from the secretary, and walked away without saying a word. She went
through to the lecture theatre, and took the first seat she saw available.
    Katie had never been in such a room
before. She took in the tiered seating and the amphitheatre shape, and noticed
how the shelf on which she rested her arms would double as a desk on which to
make notes. The noise in here was even more intimidating. Everybody but Katie
seemed to be talking to somebody. She looked around, but only caught the eye of
Mike as he walked into the room. She quickly turned away, but Mike wasn’t to be
put off. He made his way over to Katie, and sat down next to her.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean
anything about your name. Maybe we can start over?”
    “What,” snapped Katie, “you think the
way I spell my name says something about me – is that it?”
    “No, I didn’t mean – ”
    “I don’t know about where you come
from,” she said, “but it means fuck all here,” she