I spread my hands across the width of my bed. My hair is splayed all over my pillow. "And that happened," I finish telling Astrid about my encounter with Denny in the hallway earlier. From the single window in our room, I watch the afternoon sun turn pink to deep purple before the sky darkens. Dinner is long overdue but neither of us wants to get up.

Astrid sniffs and drops her hand from playing with her curls into her lap. "So, why do you feel the need to leave ever so often?"

My breath hitches in my throat and doesn't quite go right in my lungs. I end up sitting up and sputtering. It's that damn question again. Why does everyone keep asking me that?

"I don't think about that," I admit, averting my face from Astrid's pointed gaze as I plop down my bed again. "I don't need to."

She smooths the sheets of my bed. "This is the perfect time to think about your answer, don't you reckon?"

I shake my head, my hair following the movement from atop the pillow. What color shall I dye it next to fit Alexis' identity? Ginger? Maybe. I rub my hands on my face. "Agh, I have on idea, okay?" I tamp down the growing anger in my gut. Who am I angry at, anyway? If anything, shouldn't Astrid be the one angry at me? "Why do I want to start anew at every chance I get?"

Because I want to? That is probably a bullshit reason. There must be something more. Something...deeper.

I sit up to look at Astrid. "Why do you stay?"

Astrid raises her eyebrows and taps her chin. "Hm," she says. "I guess because I know I want to be here? I know what I want and that is to help people," she spreads her arms. "So, despite my apparent addiction to gaming, my family's financial struggles, and my hate of Mr. Cohen's essay exams, I'm here and here to stay."

I don't speak. I won't be able to anyway after that grand elaboration.

"How about you?" she asks.

I blink. "Sorry?"

"What do you want to do?"

"I..."

My answer dies in my throat and words desert my brain. What do I want to do apart from moving around and changing identities?

Astrid reaches out and touches my knee as gently as a mother would. "It's alright to not have an answer," she says. "It's something adults have to grapple with throughout their lives as well. There are only a few lucky ones who find an answer while still young."

She smiles at me. It's not the same smirks she gives me when she's feeling like breaking the rules or gaming until the wee hours of dawn. For once, Astrid Fowler smiles at me like she means it. "You don't have to leave as you figure out your answer to that," she leans back and runs her hands on her lap. "It's better to have friends and family to help you. You can't do everything alone."

I chew my bottom lip. Friends and family. What makes up those words anyway?

"So, about Denver," Astrid continues, catching my gaze when my eyes snapped up to her.

"What about him?"

"Well, he's your boyfriend," she shrugs. "Don't you want to clear the air after what happened?"

I shake my head and gather my hair to cascade over one shoulder to let the room's cool air kiss the back of my neck. I hug my legs and rest my chin over my knees. "I said what I did and he did as well," I say. "There's no words left between us. Besides," I look at Astrid fully. "He's not my boyfriend. Not then, and certainly, not now."

Before Astrid can ask, I tell her everything. From where it all started until the moment we met in the orientation hall. By the time I finished, the sky had deepened into an inky darkness and the night had worn on. Astrid looks like she is about to bolt from the room. "I see," she says. "Still, you have to talk to him. He sounds really hurt. You owe it to him to apologize at least."

"Yeah," I stare at the room and the packed box full of Charmaine Stevens' things. "Yeah, I guess."

Astrid rubs her stomach and stretches. "That's a fun talk," she got her usual playful tone back. She offers a hand to me. "Want dinner?"

I smile. For the first time, there is no growing dread or caution in my gut. "Sure."

Then, I take her hand.

I glance from the satellite map displayed on my phone to the brick-walled apartment in front of me. After a few blocks from the campus, I found Denver's apartment. If memory serves right, he should be on the second floor, third door from the right. How he's in the freshmen party even though he lived thousands of miles from campus is something I don't want to ponder.

Blue and red light flash in my periphery. I knit my eyebrows as my eyes land on a group of blue-coated officers gathered at the apartment's doorstep. What the hell? Did somebody die?

"Young lady," a deep, gurgly voice makes me turn to find a police officer with a graying mustache approaching me. "What's your business here?"

I make sure to widen my eyes in surprise and innocence. "Oh, me?" I point in a vague direction north. "I'm visiting my partner for a term paper. Can I go?"

It's best to not ask them what's going on despite the curiosity swimming in my gut. The officer looks me up and down, no doubt noting the ankle boots and the smart casual blouse and skirt I wore today. "Have you perhaps seen a girl your age about this high," he holds his palm somewhere below his chin. Considering he stands inches shorter than me, this girl must be short. Like, really short. "...running around carrying suspicious items inside her hoodie? We lost her somewhere in this alley after we caught her ramming a motorcycle against a fire hydrant and starting a bunch of fires in the city."

Whoever she was, I don't want to be involved nor do I want Denver to be involved. This is a waste of my time so I make my expression a mirror of having recalled something. "I think I saw her run east, officer," I say before pointing to another random direction. "Over there, perhaps?"

The officer presses a button on the walkie-talkie pinned to his chest. He screams something into it and a garbled voice flits through the speakers. He nods at me. "Thank you, miss," he gives me a small salute.

I watch at least three cars peel away from the curb and disappear into the next alley, carrying their wailing siren along with them. I wait until the last of the notes fade from the air before going through the apartment's arched entrance.

The slick, mahogany rails of the stairs run under my palm as I move to tackle the steps leading to the third room. On the way, I pass boys my age who are probably students from Fisher or from other universities around here. An elderly couple are bickering by the second floor's landing.

"I can't believe you've forgotten to feed the dog again," the old woman taps her cane against the floor in an angry rhythm. "Austin's not going to be happy. Be thankful he even lets us take care of George."

The old man coughs into a handkerchief decorated with blue and purple dots. "Hey, it's the medicines' fault. Let's go," he says. "Doc's not going to wait forever."

They pass by me as I turn to tackle the last flight of stairs to the third floor. I smile at them just as Charmaine would. They duck their heads before muttering under their breaths the continuation of their argument. I shake my head despite the smile creeping into my lips.

Third door to the right. The last time I was here, Denver and I spent the whole afternoon completing Mr. Reed's paper. It's a bummer we finished it early last week that we only have to wait for initial feedback before we can start revising. I won't have anything to show should Denver ask me what I'm doing here.

Whatever. I came here to apologize and maybe tell him I don't plan on leaving after Astrid urged me.

My eyebrows meet when I spot the door to Denver's room left ajar. Is this what the officers are concerned about? Has there been a burglary?

I creep closer, the dread in my stomach curling into a tight knot. By God, I feel like a stalker but if the thief's still there and they're armed...

I shake my head as I press myself on the wall. Best be careful.

Not one soul is out in the corridors and no one seems to be concerned that their neighbor might be getting robbed and killed. Is this the work of the short girl the officers described? If so, what does she want with Denver?

I grip my purse close to my chest, edging towards the door. Voices floated from the inside. They sound...relaxed. That's weird.

"Why are you carrying NatGeo magazines?" Denver's quizzical tone floats around the room before finally reaching the gap on the door.

"Uh, it helps with the inspiration," a girl's voice answers almost immediately. My throat clenches. Is that...his girlfriend? Already? This fast?

After a few seconds of silence, the girl speaks again. "So, you didn't tell her about me?"

"Didn't come up in a conversation," comes Denver's nonchalant answer.

"Won't she think it's weird?" the girl says. "That an unknown girl is in your apartment?"

A pause. Then, a brief rustling. "You know, on the bright side, we should get you out."

Okay, that's it. I yank the door open. "Get who out, Denver, and why are the police at your front door?" I burst inside to reveal two surprised people with Denver's hands on the girl's shoulders.