Gateway to Fourline (The Fourline Trilogy Book 1) (3 page)

Nat scanned the site, clicked the “Sellers” tab, and scrolled through the responses linking campus buyers to sellers and providing advice from the unknown entity “Bloomers.” One response read: “Xeon: Contact Carrie in Kierk Hall. She needs a bike. Milo’s 8 downtown is best for consignment.”

Nat thought a moment if she had anything to sell. She needed her laptop, as close to death as it was, and her bike was home collecting dust in the barn—not that anyone would want to buy either. She clicked the “Help Wanted” tab. She typed her name at the prompt, pressed “Enter,” and then typed her query: “Looking for a job on or off campus that pays more than $8/hr.”

“Excuse me.”

Startled by the low voice, Nat jerked away from the keyboard and knocked her textbooks off the table. A hand reached out and caught the books.

“I didn’t mean to startle you.” Estos dropped the books next to the monitor. Up close, his eyes were more gray than blue. He scratched his head, leaving a clump of dark-brown hair sticking up at an odd angle. A frayed power cord dangled from his hand. “You left this in the theater.” His voice had an odd inflection.

“Thanks . . .” Nat wrapped her fingers around the cord.

He sat on the table and flipped through the pages of her morphology textbook. “Thank Annin, she found it,” he said without looking at her. “Impressive improv, by the way. Very convincing.”

“You’re kidding, right?” Nat shifted in her seat and wondered how Estos had found her in the library.

“No.” Estos placed the book next to her hand, crossed his arms, and gave her a curious look. He was tall enough to make Nat feel dwarfed sitting in the computer chair. She shoved the cord into her bag and pushed away from the monitor. She realized the “Help Wanted” tab was still open and closed it with a click.

“Looking for something on Bloomers?” he asked and nodded toward the garish yellow home page.

“No, I like reading the advice,” she lied, not interested in talking about her job search with someone she barely knew.

He drew his dark eyebrows together and looked at the battered watch wrapped around his wrist. “You have a Plant Morphology study group in ten minutes, and you’re wasting your time reading those responses?”

“How do you know I have a study group?” Nat pressed her back against the chair, feeling uneasy. She tapped the side of the keyboard.

“I know one of your study partners.” Estos grabbed another one of her textbooks and opened it to a page filled with her notes scribbled along the margins. He traced her writing with his finger as he read the notes. She was just about to grab the book back when she noticed a long, thin scar running from the base of his ear down his neck.

Estos set the book on the table, leaned over her shoulder, and examined the screen. She smelled the faintest hint of fresh pine. His arm brushed her neck when he clicked open the “General” tab. Nat tensed.

“She gives odd advice,” he said after reading a few responses.

“How do you know Bloomers is a ‘she’?”

He shrugged. “Where I come from, most of the people who give advice are women. They seem to have all the answers. This woman, I’m not so sure about.” He scrolled through more responses, and she caught herself staring again at his scar. The line ran right near the location of a jugular vein.
He’s lucky to be alive,
she thought. She glanced at the clock.

“I need to go. Like you said, I have a study group.” She cleared her throat and pointed to his arm blocking her way. He dropped it immediately. “Thanks again for the cord.”

“I’ll make sure Annin knows how grateful you are,” he called as she jogged toward the stairs. Estos leaned against the table, watching her go. She took the stairs two at a time, wondering about the odd encounter.

It wasn’t until Nat was out the library doors that she realized she hadn’t pressed “Enter” to post her job query.

CHAPTER THREE

The fabric on the chair in the financial-aid office irritated the back of Nat’s legs. The day was weirdly warm for the beginning of October, and she wore a pair of frayed shorts. She picked at the pilled upholstery, waiting for her turn to speak with an adviser. Numbers, interest calculations, and payment dates ran through her head.

The student in front of her was taking forever. Nat puffed out her cheeks and let out a long breath. She rummaged in her backpack for her phone and dialed home, knowing a follow-up call to check on her dad was long overdue.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Cal,” she said to her seventeen-year-old sister. Nat heard the clacking sound of typing in the background.

“What do you want?” Cal said tersely. Nat bit her lip. Her sister was possibly the rudest, most self-centered person she knew. The clacking sound grew louder.

“What are you working on?”

“I’m writing a paper.” Cal used the same tone when she spoke with an ex-boyfriend.

“Really? You’re writing a paper?”

“Is this an emergency? Are you dying or something? Because otherwise, I’ve got better things to do than listen to you crab out on me.”

“Are Mom and Dad there?” Nat said in a clipped tone.

“They’re out at some school thing for Marie Claire.”

“How’s Dad?”

“Sick, stressed.”

“Mom?”

“The same.”

“MC?” she asked, using her nickname for Marie Claire.

“A twerp.”

Nat’s frustration grew. “You’re helping Mom and Dad out?”

“No, I’m just enjoying myself while my parents face financial ruin because their eldest daughter turned down a full ride to the U so she could go to some snooty private school.” Cal slammed the phone down.

A short white-haired woman beckoned Nat to her desk. Nat shoved her phone into her backpack in anger and took a deep breath. The woman smiled as Nat settled into another itchy chair and slid a small piece of paper across the desk.

“I need to check my account status, please,” Nat said.

The woman turned toward her computer, her white hair swinging back and forth. Her fingers flew over a worn keyboard. She glanced at Nat.

“Something wrong, dear? Your face looks a little, well, beet red.”

“No, I’m fine, just the heat, I guess.” Nat took another deep breath. It didn’t help. She still felt like throttling her sister.

“Your account shows $6,524.39 due for this semester. We have a scheduled payment in two weeks. Is there a problem with that payment date?” She turned the computer monitor so Nat could see the screen and pointed to the amount.

“No, no problem.”
Big problem,
Nat thought. “While I’m here, can you give me the amount for next semester, too?”

The woman typed something, and Nat heard a printer come to life.

“Here.” She took a highlighter and circled a figure at the bottom of the printout. “The top figure is this semester, and the second figure is next semester. Assuming your financial-aid and scholarship information remains the same, this is the total for the rest of the year.” She tapped the figure with the tip of the marker: $13,759.02.

“Couldn’t you just round down to make it easier for everyone?” Nat muttered.

“Are you all right, dear? Now you look a little pale.”

“I’m fine.” She felt like throwing up all over the desk. Her palms were slick with sweat as she clutched the printout. Where was she going to come up with six thousand dollars, let alone thirteen thousand? Her parents had planned on covering four of the six thousand for this semester, but that wasn’t going to happen with her dad out of work.

“Um, can I make an appointment with you to go over loan options?”

“I’ve got a few moments right now.”

Nat glanced at her watch. Thirty minutes before her Plant Morphology class. She nodded.

Twenty-five minutes later, Nat pushed open the administration building’s doors and took off across the quad toward the Science Center. She and the adviser had submitted an application for two low-interest loans totaling three thousand dollars. She hated loans but had no choice. In her bag, she had an application for an additional scholarship for one thousand dollars, which she had a chance of getting. Now she needed to find another job, keep her grades up, and hope something miraculous happened before next semester.

The cavernous library reference room was quiet until Viv pushed through the glass doors. She dropped her bag across from Nat. “I’ve got some—”

“Just a sec.” Nat held up a finger while she finished an equation. She looked up. Viv’s hair was no longer moss green but aqua. “When did you do that?” she asked. Her roommate’s hair changed color more often than a chameleon.

“Yesterday. We were experimenting with fabric dyes, and I tried some on my hair. I had a shade picked for you if you’d been home at a reasonable hour. You missed out.”

“Lucky me.”

“Probably, my pillowcase was kind of disgusting this morning. But you wouldn’t know that since you were gone when I got up. Where have you been?”

“I took another work-study shift.” Nat flipped a page.

“Shh!” A boy with a spiky shock of red hair glared at the pair.

“Shh?” Viv repeated.

“This is a library.” His face turned as red as his hair.

“No, you must have missed the memo. This room”—she waved her hand in the air—“is the romper room. You romp in this room. You don’t ‘shh.’ If you want a quiet place to study, find a tidy table on the third floor next to the little boys’ room.”

He slammed his books shut and shoved them into his bag. “Grow up, freak,” he snarled.

“Bathroom’s on the third floor!” Viv yelled after him. “Hope you get that problem taken care of!” He blew by the tables and slammed into the door.

“That was unnecessary,” Nat said. Her eyes traveled down the room to see who had watched the outburst. A few tables away, Estos leaned back in a chair, the front legs tipped up. Annin shuffled a sheaf of papers across from him. Her mouth moved as if she were talking to herself. Estos set his chair back down and pointed to what looked like a map. Annin pushed her curly hair away from her face. The eye patch didn’t hide her scowl. Nat stared at Estos. He gestured to a corner of the map with his long fingers, his attention focused in front of him.

“Viv, what do you know about those two?” Nat asked in a hushed voice.

“Who?” She turned. “The townie twins?”

“They’re not townies, and they’re definitely not twins. Impossible.”

“Are too. At least townies. They’re related to one of the professors in the theater department. I don’t know anything about her other than she has a bizarre tattoo on her arm and is channeling an inner pirate. Estos was in my physics class last semester. I switched lab partners so I could watch his angular velocity.” She winked at Nat, then curved her lips into a smile. “Are you interested in him?” Her chin jutted forward.

“No,” Nat answered defensively. “He’s just different.”

“Caviar on cheese in a can is different, Nat.” Viv rolled her eyes. “Ask him out.” She nudged Nat’s textbook. “It wouldn’t hurt you to pursue a life.”

Nat glared at Viv and stuck her face back in her book.

Viv shoved the book gently aside. “Who cares about them? You’re making me forget what I wanted to tell you.”

“Which is?”

“Okay, good news or bad news first?”

“Bad news.”

“Your turtle is dead.”

“I can live with that, especially since it isn’t or wasn’t my turtle.” Nat began reading the next page.

“I know, but I can’t bring myself to dispose of him. Since you have all that circle-of-life farm-girl experience, will you take care of it?” Viv leaned against the table and inserted her head between the book and Nat.

“Fine.” Nat knew the pestering would continue until she gave in. “I’ll do it this evening. But you have to do my laundry this week.”

“Deal. Maybe you should do it this afternoon, because the aquarium is starting to stink.”

“I was wondering what that smell was. What’s the good news?”

Viv held out a bright-yellow sticky note. “I was surfing Bloomers and saw your name.” Nat snatched the paper from her finger and stared at Viv’s scribbling.

“How did this . . . ? I didn’t even submit my query.”

“The response is for you. How many other Natalie Barnses do you know? I wrote it down word for word.” Viv read the note in a deep voice. “‘Natalie Barns: See Barba Gate in the costume division of the theater department.’ Are you looking for a Halloween costume? I’m offended you didn’t come to me first.”

“No, I was looking for another job, but I didn’t post my search, unless . . .” She looked across the room. Estos and Annin were gone.

“What are you waiting for? Go find”—Viv grabbed the note—“Barba Gate. The costume department could be a sweet job.” She handed the note back to Nat. “But you probably want to take care of our turtle first.”

CHAPTER FOUR

The door in the bowels of the theater department was slightly ajar. Angry voices erupted from the other side. Nat knocked gently. The voices stopped.

“Come in,” a female voice responded in a high, light tone.

Nat pushed the door open and walked around a packed clothing rack. She paused when she saw Estos standing next to a woman with loose red hair who was perched behind a wide white cutting table. She wore a green tunic and held a brown garment in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. She looked vaguely familiar. Estos was leaning toward her, his hands flat against the end of the cutting table. He straightened when he saw Nat. She stared at him for a moment and had a suspicious feeling that his presence was not a coincidence. She cleared her throat.

“I’m looking for Barba Gate,” Nat said. “I was told I could find her here.” She suddenly remembered where she’d seen the wisp of a woman. She’d been in Nat’s theater class at the beginning of the semester when they were working on set design. She’d watched Nat and Butler construct a complicated pyramid set and helped them locate a materials reference book in the small theater library.

“I’m Barba Gate.” She placed the fabric on the table and extended a hand. The movement exposed the markings of two entwined green vines on the inside of her right arm. Nat hesitated. She adjusted her books, stepped forward, and shook Barba Gate’s hand. Barba held it longer than Nat expected.

“Natalie Barns,” Nat said.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Nat returned her smile, surprised the woman remembered her.

“I assume you’re here about the position?” Barba resumed her work, eyeing Nat between stitches.

“Yes.” Nat glanced at Estos, who picked at a chip in the corner of the table.
Did he see my job search query and tell her?
Nat wondered.

Barba turned to Estos as if suddenly remembering he was there. “Estos, let’s finish our conversation this evening, with the others.”

“I can come back later,” Nat said, backing away.

“No.” Estos rounded the table. “The Sister and I are done.” He paused in front of Nat and regarded her with his pale eyes. “Good luck.”

A look of irritation crossed Barba’s face when Estos slammed the door behind him. Nat waited. Barba pursed her lips and resumed sewing.

“Professor Gate, I—”

“Just Barba, I’m not a professor. You know my husband, Professor Cairn Gate.” Nat nodded. “I have a costume shop in town and help with the costumes and set design when the department needs me.”

“Is the job with the theater department?” Nat asked.

“No, it’s in my shop. Here, write your name and e-mail on this.” She handed Nat a crumpled brown paper sack and motioned to a pen on the table.

“You’re a biology major, aren’t you?” she asked as Nat wrote her name.

“Yes,” Nat said brightly, hoping Barba Gate wasn’t wanting a theater major.

“Good. Ethet will appreciate a similar mind. Do you have any skills?”

“Do you mean work experience?” Nat handed her the brown paper, wondering who Ethet was.

Barba examined Nat’s signature, then corrected herself. “Yes, work experience.”

“I work in the cafeteria.” Barba peered at her. Nat moved on quickly. “Before I came to school, I helped my father with his woodworking business, I waitressed, and I had my own business selling eggs and fresh produce.” None of that had anything remotely to do with costumes, but Nat was proud of it. She’d made decent money. If Cal had been willing to actually work instead of complain about working, she could’ve taken over the business and kept it going after Nat left for college. Now, MC delivered the occasional dozen eggs but could handle little more.

“You lived on a farm?” Barba interrupted Nat’s thoughts and brought her back to the interview.

“Yes.” She nodded.

“How old are you?” Barba took a closer look at Nat.

“Nineteen.”

“I assume you are familiar with computers?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve heard you run.” Barba wiggled the fingers of her left hand in the air.

“What? Run? Yes, I run.”
What does that have to do with anything?
she wondered.

“Can you run far?” Barba placed the brown fabric on the table and smoothed the finished seam with her hand.

“I suppose I can.” Nat thought back to the three miles she’d put in before Viv woke up, before classes, before work. It was one of the few things that kept her sane. “Is running part of the job?”

“Not really. Can you sew little things like buttons?” Barba held up a knobby-looking button.

“Yes, of course.” Before Barba could begin another barrage of strange questions, Nat continued, “Profes—Mrs. Gate, I’m not exactly sure what the job is. I am quick to learn. But . . .” She paused. “Before I waste both our time, I need something that pays more than the $7.81 I make an hour in the cafeteria.” Nat knew the next bit wasn’t going to go down well but thought it was better to be honest up front. “And I may also have to study part of the time while I’m working to keep my grades up, so I don’t lose my scholarships. If the pay and study requirements don’t work for you, I understand.” She braced herself for rejection.

“You’re honest in your intentions. A refreshing change from some of my previous apprentices.” Barba placed the button on the table. “Let me explain the position, and then you can tell me if it will work for you.”

“Okay.” Nat let out a little sigh of relief.

“Several of my . . . relatives work with me in the shop. Some will be gone during the Halloween rental season. Those who will be there are not the most adept at dealing with customers and computers. I need someone during the busy season to handle front-of-house duties. October and the beginning of November will be very busy. You may not have much time to study at work right now, but you would after early November. I promise to keep you on at the same hours and the same rate of pay after Halloween if everything works out.” Barba placed her hands flat on the table. Nat noticed the marking did not extend over her forearm.

“What hours?”

“Assuming you don’t have evening classes, I could use you a few weeknights and Saturday. And I would pay you fifteen dollars an hour.” She picked up the brown garment and started ripping out a hem.

Nat did not hesitate. “I’ll take it.”
But I may not sleep between now and mid-November,
she thought.

“Good. Come tomorrow after your classes. Take the bus into town to the last stop on Grand Street. You’ll need to walk a few minutes from the bus stop. The shop is at the end of Grand next to a warehouse.” Barba drew a crude map on the brown paper and ripped it off. Nat took the paper and waited for a moment.

“Go on, then,” Barba said and gestured to the door.

“Thank you,” Nat managed to respond as she hurried out the door quickly, hoping the stroke of luck was real.