CHAPTER EIGHT

CIRCADIAN RHYTHM

( — a consistent pattern of cyclical body activities, usually lasting 24 to 25 hours and determined by an internal biological clock. )

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          RHIANNON HATES THAT SHE CAN'T DO ANYTHING ON HER OWN. There's this constant need of having someone by her side, someone who tells her what to do because she's always lost, in a way or another (Stephanie used to tell her she had the worst sense of direction she had ever seen); even worse—there's the need to be told who to be and, simultaneously, the need of being left alone to explore the world on her one and decide, on her own terms, who she wants to be.

          The nights are the worst part, Rhiannon thinks. Knowing Isla is sleeping in the other side of the room is comforting, but that's only during the school year (as Isla rarely ever sleeps elsewhere); whenever they're not at college and Rhiannon isn't spending time with the Sargents, she's in her tiny apartment, feeling sorry for herself.

          Some people call it comfortable and adorable, because it's just so small and can barely fit all her furniture. She calls it claustrophobic.

          Her dorm room is spacious, despite having to share it with Isla, but she has always liked this place; it gives her enough room to decorate things however she wants and to pretend this is something she can also do back at the apartment. That's why it feels straight out of a catalog, never like home, with barely any personal belongings scattered around—it's not like she'd have any room to place them, anyway.

          So, when Rhiannon drags herself out of Jude and Matteo's dorm room to go grab something to eat for dinner, loneliness is quick to overpower her, even though Jude is right on the other side of the door (stuffed like a turkey for Thanksgiving, according to him, as he had dinner back at his parents' house). Her dependency is not just about him (as she'd be downright screwed if it was)—it's about anyone who ever gives her the time of the day and is remotely nice to her, systematically repeating those actions.

          It's pathetic.

          Isla isn't there, as she's still slumped with homework, random assignments and helping her father's ghostwriter move into his new apartment, but Rhiannon understands. If she was in that guy's shoes, having been shoved into a whole new world, she'd be feeling as if her parachute hadn't opened and she kept plummeting down to the concrete, so it's good that Isla is doing him a favor.

          Rhiannon is great at resenting people and holding grudges, truthfully (just look at how Connor and her family swim around in her brain at every moment, every second, and how she can't do anything to pull them out of there), and she certainly wouldn't be doing to Isla and never thanks to this.

          Thus, when she gets to the cafeteria, she's all alone, as Matteo, despite being in the building, is sitting with another group (which she's clearly not a part of). It bothers her a bit, with the saliva inside her mouth tasting awfully bitter, but she reminds herself she has to be more independent and do things on her own every once in a while. After all, once they all graduate, they're going their separate ways and she won't be able to have them help her through every single step she takes.

          It tastes as if there was something rotting inside her system. Maybe she's the one who's rotting. Dirty. Connor and her parents sure seem to think she is, but Connor is a lot prouder than they are—after all, he thrives on chaos as long as that's what helps him climb the steps. Better yet—he likes everything that helps him fly. Walking would be too mundane for someone like Connor Duncan, wouldn't it?

          She cups her small bowl of chicken salad between her hands, the plastic recipient cooling her skin. It's definitely not what she's craving, even though it's filling, but she supposes nothing can quite replace the feelings a nice, warm homemade meal leaves behind in your body. It's supposed to taste like home, but Rhiannon doesn't have one, not anymore.

          "Rhiannon!" Zelda calls, and several heads turn to face her, as Rhiannon wishes she could dig a hole right where she is and bury herself in it. Zelda, waving her arm above her head, is sitting with Gabriella, Hailey, Laura and Sutton, reminding her a little bit too much of the popular kids' lunch table back in high school. "Come sit with us!"

          If it was possible, Rhiannon would dig her Converse sneakers into the linoleum floors to stay right where she is, as something has always felt a bit off regarding that group of girls (though she doesn't have anything against them personally; it's simply a gut feeling Rhiannon has failed to ignore ever since she met them), but maybe she'll be missing out if she refuses Zelda's offer.

          After all, the girl has done nothing wrong and Rhiannon is just grasping at straws to try to find a reason to dislike her. She was jealous, plain and simple, and that's not even worth hating her for.

          Thus, she lets out a small sigh and makes her way towards their table, sincerely hoping her facial expression and posture won't reflect the awful day she has been having and how truly miserable she feels. She sits on the vacant seat on Sutton's left and she pulls her own tray closer to her to give her more space, even though Rhiannon only carries a salad and a bottle of orange juice with her.

         Unsurprisingly, the girls were talking about Project Oxygen. All of them have already gone through their interviews and they're pretty confident about the outcome, whereas Rhiannon merely delivers them a nervous smile and a shrug, saying she thinks she did well enough. She just doesn't know what 'well enough' refers to—was it good enough to be chosen to advance to the next stage of the experiment or was it good enough for Matteo to finally leave her alone?

          "Beatrice liked me," Gabriella says, stirring her soup, and waves of steam rise from it, "or so I'd like to think. She said she admired my confidence."

          "Same," Hailey adds, and it's only then that Rhiannon notices how their bodies seem to lean towards each other, almost imperceptibly, as if there was a gravitational force pulling them together. "I mean, McCall was the one who interviewed me, but he's a lot more . . . approachable than I thought he'd be; I've always thought he was sort of . . . intimidating. Isn't he?"

          "He's my professor," Laura explains, "and I totally agree. He seems so cold and distant while teaching, but he's actually super nice outside of the classroom. Once, I went to his office to get my paper checked and he gave me tons of additional books and articles I could read to add more information; I doubt he would have done it if I had simply stayed behind after class."

          "Of course you'd know that," Sutton taunts, in a low voice, and Gabriella's lips twist into a mischievous smile, similar to the ones Isla usually sports, while Laura's cheeks flush pink. "I mean, last year you were all like, Frances this, Frances that, oh, Frances . . ." Laura slaps her arm and the other girls laugh, but Rhiannon keeps her mouth shut. She doesn't know them and merely throwing them a ghost of a smile one second too late could be risky. "Does he reference Twin Peaks when you're around? Does he want to show you his own Roadhouse?"

          "He's a professor," Laura clarifies, her voice an octave higher than usual, and she almost sounds like a bat. "And keep your voice down, will you? You don't want people to . . . think the wrong thing. He can get fired if anyone hears about that rumor."

          The soft tapping of something against the floor distracts Rhiannon, pulling her out of a conversation she was never really part of, and she looks up, trying to find the source of the noise. When she sees him, something inside her chest turns, with the brief pause in her breathing cycles.

          With hair as black as the night sky, effortlessly slicked back and letting some strands spring up, he walks with his white plastic can in front of him, feeling his surroundings. His free hand holds his tray, supported on his forearm and resting against the crook of his elbow.

          She has seen him around (and thinks Jude might know him, as she vaguely recalls seeing them together once or twice, but, sometimes, her memory might not be exactly trustworthy), but they've never said two words to one another. In fact, she doubts he knows who she is.

          People only know her name for bad reasons. Connor used to say it doesn't matter what they know you for, as long as their name causes some kind of reaction on people, but that has never been her type of approach. If they're going to associate you with something bad, perhaps it would be best if you find a way of disappearing off their radar before things get worse.

           "Excuse me," he begins, in a soft, almost musical voice (Rhiannon distinguishes a discreet London accent), and Hailey lifts her head, but no one else does. Maybe they think he's talking to someone else, or maybe they simply don't care. Either way, they don't look at him, and they certainly don't see how the tip of his cane gently taps against one of the legs of Laura's chair. "Is this seat taken?"

          "Obviously," Laura dryly replies, still without looking at him. "Can't you see?"

          "Laura," Rhiannon tries to warn, but it's too late.

          "As a matter of fact, darling," he continues, already exasperated, and Rhiannon finally looks the other way, as everything about this is going wrong, "I can't. You'll have to excuse me."

          With that, the remaining four girls finally look up at him and he presses his lips together, his light-brown skin glowing faintly under the fluorescent white lights of the cafeteria. Rhiannon stands up, leaving her own food behind, to offer him her seat, as the feelings of discomfort won't stop growing while she stays at his table, but no one else does anything.

          "Oh," Laura blabbers, face as red as blood, "I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't notice—"

          "Please, sit down," Hailey asks, pointing him towards the empty seat next to her and ignoring Rhiannon, even though he can't see. "We're, um, we're sorry—"

          "Honey." His lips twist into a tiny smile, but Rhiannon sees just how much effort there is behind the gesture and quietly returns to her seat. "I'm afraid I don't need your sympathy. I'm just looking for a place where I can eat my dinner, much like you." He takes some steps forward, always with his cane's guidance, and taps it against the chair next to Rhiannon. "This one?"

          "It's"—she clears her throat—"free. Do you need a hand?"

          "That won't be necessary." He lets the tray slide down from his arm to the table before carefully occupying his seat, and something in the atmosphere changes. "Please, don't interrupt whatever conversation you were having just because of me. I have better things to do than listen to mindless gossip."

          "So you're assuming we were 'mindlessly gossiping' just because we're girls?" Gabriella questions, with a clear note of incredulity cladding her voice, and he chuckles, shaking his head. "We were talking about Project Oxygen, actually. I'm assuming you've heard of it."

          "Much like anyone who can hear in this place." He unfolds his paper napkin. "Can't say I'm too interested, but I've already gone in for an interview. Professors aren't the only people who need and want to get paid." He grins. "Roman Cooke, by the way. If you haven't heard about me, I'm sure you will soon. My family has helped the Duncans finance the project, but Northrop and McCall are working under very specific orders to not choose participants based on . . . irrelevant variables."

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          THINGS GET WEIRD REALLY FAST AS OCTOBER ROLLS ON. Rhiannon always tries to steer away from drama, knowing exactly how much trouble she can get in with her parents if word gets out (being interviewed for the project is something completely different and one of the few decisions she has made for herself . . . and, well, for Matteo), but it always seems to unravel right in front of her.

          Thus, when she walks into the cafeteria a few days later, knowing everyone is freaking out over tests, assignments, the release of the list of participants and whatever is going on in their lives, all she wants is a calm day. However, there's never such a thing as a calm day at Crowcrest University (or in the entire town of Vofield, for that matter, even if it happens on the opposite side of the river), and Rhiannon knows she should have gotten used to that by now.

          It begins with a missing person. This time, it's a student named Taylor Morris, and, though Rhiannon really wants to remember who she is, she can't. It's terrible, especially after seeing how distraught their parents were when they came to Crowcrest to talk to Gabriel Guerreiro about it, and she wants to do something to help, but people keep reminding everyone it's all in the hands of the police.

          It's like they didn't even witness it happen before—in fact, it happened so many times it turned into the local lore, an urban legend. The exact same events are always present when this happens, with their order of occurrence sometimes changing, but anyone who has been in town for over a year can name them perfectly.

          People say a ship vanishes into the fog at the docks. That's usually the first event, but, this year, it seems like it won't be, as the missing person won first place in the race. A thunderstorm will strike the town at some point, the wolves living in the forests will revolt, trees will be violently shaken and, finally, the missing person's body will show up in the beach after being mindlessly thrown around by the strong currents. 

          They tell her to not worry too much about it and, truthfully, she wants to follow their advice, but there's something inside her head saying it could very well have been her—she could have vanished, only to show up dead weeks later, or it could have been someone she knows. She's not even talking about Jude, Isla, or Matteo; hell, it could have been one of her professors or classmates, even those she has barely talked to. It could have been her family, or Aaron.

          Everyone wants to have hope Taylor will come back. Maybe she was just rebelling (but against what, exactly?). Deep down, however, Rhiannon thinks they know exactly what will happen.

          Today, some sort of fight breaks out in the cafeteria, involving Chase Fowler, some senior who enjoys playfully threatening people with his baseball bat, and Rowan, Gabriel's ghostwriter. From the information that reaches her table, Rhiannon learns Rowan was simply minding his own business when Chase hit him in the leg with the bat (Jude winces at that), and Isla immediately springs up from her seat, disappearing into the middle of the crowd.

          "I'm pretty sure the dude can take care of himself," Jude tries to remind her, even though she doesn't hear him. "At least, I hope he does. It's not like you'll survive in Vofield for too long if you don't learn how to do it eventually."

          "Do you guys think something bad happened to Taylor?" Rhiannon questions, shifting on her seat. "I didn't know her, but . . . I don't know how to feel about this. It's so strange."

          "According to the urban legend or according to what I personally think?" Jude asks, twirling a forkful of spaghetti around the silver utensil. Rhiannon doesn't answer. "If you want to follow the legends, then . . . you know. If you want me to be optimistic about it, maybe they'll find her. I don't know. It hasn't been that long since she went missing, so perhaps the odds are still in the police's favor. But you never know."

          "You never know," Matteo echoes. "Thank you, prophet."

          "Of course," Jude laughs. "It's what I'm here to do."

          The conversation is cut short, as Isla returns quickly after, fuming and complaining about just how absolutely insufferable Rowan Underwood is.

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this update is one day late because i went out last night and i'm currently suffering from a massive hangover. it's not fun, kids. i'm also binge watching the punisher! mostly because of the love of my life, ben barnes, but the show itself is pretty cool.

THE TIMELINES ARE SO CLOSE TO CATCHING UP?? GOD. if you recall, the first event that rowan mentioned back in chapter seven of counterfactual was the vanishing ship, but, since i love connecting the books, you now know it was the disappearance of a student. this will be explained there as well (i promise)!