Page 3 of Salem’s Rise

“That’s… actually genius,” she says.

“Yes, I’m quite gifted with toilets.”

She doesn’t seem to get my joke.

“I can’t thank you enough. You’re a lifesaver.” The tension finally leaves her shoulders as she sticks out her hand to shake mine. “I’m Wren.”

“Jack.”

“Cool name.”

“It’s short for Jacqueline, but only my mother calls me that, and only when I’m in trouble.” I let out a quiet laugh. “Which is quite often.”

She gives me a small but genuine smile, and I decide I like her.

“Anyway, thanks,” she says, gathering up the cleaning supplies she’d dropped in her panic. “Most of the students here don’t talk to me, much less stop to help me.”

“I guess I have a character flaw.”

“What?” She tilts her head. “Being nice to strangers?”

“More like an inability to mind my own business.”

Her expression is thoughtful as she looks at me. “You’re obviously new to Salem’s Fall,” she says. “People around here learn to keep their heads down. They see something that doesn’t make sense, they keep walking. They hear a strange noise in the middle of the night, they pretend they didn’t. You live here long enough, and you get quite good at minding your own business.” She doesn’t sound bitter, just matter-of-fact, like she’s describing the weather. “Anyway, can I help you find your room? It’s the least I can do.”

My immediate instinct is to say no. I hate taking help from anyone. But Wren is looking at me with a hopeful expression, and I hear my brother’s voice in my head again.

You don’t have to do everything yourself, Jackie.

I exhale.

“I’m in 321.”

Her eyes widen slightly. “Oh.”

That little sound makes my spine tighten.

“Is that bad?”

“No.” The answer comes a little too quickly. “It’s just… one of the older rooms. It hasn’t been remodeled, like, ever.” She looks toward the far end of the hallway before lowering her voice. “People tell ghost stories. Weird rumors. Supposed hidden passageways in the walls.” She gives an awkward little laugh. “You know how old universities like this are.”

I can tell there’s more she wants to tell me, but I decide not to push. If my room is haunted or someone died in it years ago, I don’t want to know. I’ve already got enough to worry about.

Wren escorts me the rest of the way. She doesn’t ask where my family is or why anyone would transfer to Salem’s Fall their senior year. I’m grateful, even though I’ve spent the last twelve months building answers to those questions that sound normal. Great opportunities at a top-notch school. World-class professors. Gorgeous New England campus. All technically true. None of it the truth.

Wren stops outside Room 321. “Well, this is you.” She hesitates, fingers tightening around the handle of her supply cart. “You seem nice, Jack.”

“I’ve been accused of worse.”

She doesn’t laugh. “Just… be careful around here. Nothing in this place is what it seems.”

An uneasy feeling settles over me.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

She gives me one last tight smile before wheeling her cart toward the stairwell. I watch her hurry away and then unlock the door to Room 321.

The room is larger than I expected, with two narrow beds on opposite sides, two desks, two closet wardrobes, and a tall window overlooking a courtyard full of trees. The walls are stone, which should probably feel charming, but instead make the room feel cold, like a prettier version of a cell. Both sides are completely bare. Mattresses uncovered. Desktops clear. Wardrobe doors open and waiting.