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〃Why?〃 she asks。
Gil simply says; 〃It's important。〃 For one of the few times in our friendship; his tone suggests the importance he's referring to is much larger than himself。
〃Okay;〃 she says warily; reaching out to take my hand in hers。 〃I'll see you at the chapel。〃
She's about to add something else; when a huge thud es from below; followed by an explosion of glass。
Gil hurries for the stairs; we rush down behind him to find a wide puddle of debris。 Blood…colored liquid is seeping in all directions; bringing snags of glass with it。 Standing at the center of it all; in a perimeter of space everyone else has evacuated; is Parker Hassett; flushed and fuming。 He has just thrown the entire wet bar to the ground; shelves; bottles; and all。
〃What the hell's going on?〃 Gil demands of a sophomore watching nearby。
〃He just went off。 Someone called him a dipso and he went crazy。〃
Veronica Terry is holding up the ruffled skirts of her white dress; now fringed in pink and spattered with wine。 〃They've been teasing him all night;〃 she cries。
〃For God's sake;〃 Gil demands; 〃how'd you let him get that drunk?〃
She looks at him blankly; expecting pity; getting fury。 Partygoers nearby whisper to each other; holding back satisfied smiles。
Brooks is telling an attendant to raise the bar and restock the shelves from the wine cellar; while Donald Morgan; looking newly presidential; tries to calm Parker amidst the hecklers。 From the crowd e coos of Lush! and Drunk! and worse。 Laughter at the edges of insult。 Parker is across the room from me; cut in half a dozen places by the shrapnel of upturned bottles; standing in a great puddle of mixed drinks like a child; mashing out the lees。 When he finally turns on Donald; he is full of rage。
Katie covers her mouth as it unfolds。 Parker lunges at Donald; and the two topple over onto the floor; wrestling at first; then hammering each other with fists。 Here is the show everyone has been waiting to see; Parker's euppance for a million petty offenses; justice for what he did on the third floor; violence to end two years of mounting hatred。 A server es out with a flat…faced mop; creating the spectacle at the fight's edge of a man shoveling liquid。 On the hardwood floor the currents of wine and liquor careen past each other; reflecting off the oak walls; and not a drop is absorbed by anything; not mop nor carpet nor even tuxedo; as the two men continue to fight; a great throb of black arms and legs; an insect trying to right itself before drowning。
〃Let's go;〃 Gil says; leading us around the brawl that is now someone else's mess。
Paul and I follow him; wordless; sloshing through the wake of bourbon and brandy and wine。
The roads we travel are thin black stitches on a great white gown。 The Saab is surefooted; even with Gil leaning on the gas and the wind shrieking around us。 On Nassau Street two cars have slammed into each other; lights flashing; drivers shouting; shadows flickering against a pair of tow trucks on the curb。 A proctor emerges from the security kiosk at the north of campus; pink in the haze of safety flares; gesturing to us that the entrance is closed…but Paul is already navigating us away from campus; westward。 Gil throws the gearshift into third; then fourth; passing roads in streaks。
〃Show him the letter;〃 Gil says。
Paul pulls something from inside his coat and hands it back to me in the rear seat。
〃What's this?〃
The envelope is torn open across the top; but the upper…left corner bears the imprint of the Dean of Students。
〃It was in our mailbox tonight;〃 Gil says。
Mr。 Harris:
This letter serves to notify you that my office is conducting an investigation into allegations of plagiarism lodged against you by your senior thesis advisor; Dr。 Vincent Taft。 Due to the nature of the allegations; and their effect on your graduation; a special meeting of the mittee on Discipline will convene next week to consider your case and render a decision。 Please contact me to arrange a preliminary meeting and to confirm receipt of this letter。
Sincerely;
Marshall Meadows
Associate Dean of Undergraduate Students
〃He knew what he was doing;〃 Paul says; when I've finished reading。
〃Who?〃
〃Vincent。 This morning。〃
〃Threatening you with the letter?〃
〃He knew he had nothing on me。 So he started in on your dad。〃
I can hear it in his voice; the accusation sneaking in。 Everything returns to the moment I pushed Taft。
〃You're the one who ran;〃 I say under my breath。
Slush sprays the undercarriage of the car as the suspension dances over a pothole。
〃I'm the one who called the police too;〃 he says。
〃What?〃
〃That's why the police took Vincent in;〃 he says。 〃I told them I saw Vincent near Dickinson when Bill was shot。〃
〃You lied to them。〃
I'm waiting for Gil to react; but he keeps his eyes on the road。 Staring at the back of Paul's head; I have the strange sensation of looking at myself from behind; of being inside my father's car again。
〃Is this it?〃 Gil says。
The houses before us are fashioned in white clapboard。 At Taft's address; all windows are unlit。 Just beyond them stands the tree line of the Institute woods; its canopy tinseled in white。
〃He's still at the police station;〃 Paul says; almost to himself。 〃The lights are off。〃
〃Jesus; Paul;〃 I say。 〃How do even you know the blueprint is here?〃
〃It's the only other place he could've hidden it。〃
Gil doesn't even hear us。 Shaken by the sight of Taft's house; he lightens pressure on the brakes; letting us roll in neutral; prepared to go back。 Just as his foot begins to engage the clutch; though; Paul yanks the door handle and stumbles out onto the curb。
〃Damn it。〃 Gil brings the Saab to a halt and gets out。 〃Paul!〃
The wind hisses around the door as he opens it; muffling his words。 I can see Paul mouth something to us; pointing at the house。 He begins hiking toward it in the snow。
〃Paul 。 。 。〃 I get out of the car; trying to keep my voice at a whisper。
A light in the neighboring house es on; but Paul pays no attention。 He paces up to Taft's front porch and puts his ear to the door; gently rapping。
The wind whips through the columns of the fa?ade; licking puffs of snow from the eaves。 The window next door goes black。 When Paul gets no answer; he tries to turn the knob; but the lock holds fast。
〃What do we do?〃 Gil says; beside him。
Paul knocks again; then pulls a ring of keys from his pocket and cradles one into the slot。 Putting a shoulder into the wood; he sweeps the door forward。 Hinges squeal。
〃We can't do this;〃 I say as I walk toward them; trying for some authority。
But Paul is already inside; scanning the first floor。 Without a word; he's deep into the house。
〃Vincent?〃 es his voice; feeling out the darkness。 〃Vincent; are you here?〃
The words bee distant。 I hear feet on a staircase; then nothing。
〃Where'd he go?〃 Gil says; moving toward me。
There is an odd odor in here; distant but strong。 The wind es at our backs; snapping our jackets; making the fingers of Gil's hair twist in the updraft。 I turn and shut the door behind us。 Gil's cell phone begins to ring。
I flip a wall switch; but