West Campus

Sabrina Tang

The car screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road, sending a spray of gravel into the air. Emily twisted around in the driver’s seat, eyes blazing with rage, gesticulating wildly at the three of us. “Get out,” she seethed. “It’s not too far from campus. You can walk from here. That’s the last time I’m ever driving your sorry asses.” We stared at each other. Joey opened his mouth to protest, but a warning look from Emily shut him down. I shrugged. There was nothing we could do. Finally, Steph pushed the door open, and we slid out into the crisp air. I wasn’t worried. This wasn’t exactly unprecedented for our friend group. Though Emily was currently vowing never to speak to any of us again, twenty-four hours and maybe a shared order of mozz sticks later, it’d be as if nothing had happened. We did, however, have a long, cold walk back to campus before then. Emily accelerated down the road. Once the sound of her revving engine had faded, we were left with only the rustling of corn in the wind. Joey, who had drunk a suspect amount of pumpkin spice liqueur, stumbled, and I grabbed his shoulder with one hand. His baseball cap threatened to fall off of his lolling head, so I jammed it back on with the other. “What the hell,” he grumbled. “I’m never playing Mario Kart with her again.” Steph pointed. “Campus is that way, right?” I squinted. “Maybe?” Lacking an objection from anyone, we went in the direction Steph had pointed. Steph and I had to drag Joey between us, ignoring his mutterings about cheating at Mario Kart and being hungry. Stumbling along in the darkness, we had only the pinpoints of light from the faraway campus to guide us. A tortured amount of time later, the light coalesced into a building, waiting for us at the end of the road. I recognized the beige siding, the glass facade, the

shadowed suggestion of a loggia. “One of my friends lives here in Rathje. She invited me to a horror movie night tonight in her room. Maybe we could crash,” Steph suggested. “I’ve had enough horror for the night,” I said. “The screaming will warm us up, though.” We picked up the pace, anticipating the warmth within. I could hear Steph’s teeth chattering. A wave of relief surged over me as we approached the door. “P-card?” I didn’t want to dig mine out from within my several layers of jackets. Steph handed hers over. With my other arm struggling to keep Joey upright, I slid it over the card reader. “A tortured amount of time Nothing happened. I hissed a curse into the night, scrabbling at later, the light coalesced into a my jacket. Before I could get my P-card out, howbuilding, waiting for us at the end ever, someone opened the door for us. A student of the road. I recognized the beige siding, the glass facade, the shadwhom I didn’t recognize. “Thanks,” I said, but before I could see their face in the light, they disappeared into the hallway. owed suggestion of a loggia.” We heaved Joey inside, then let the door shut with a bang behind us. The familiar sight of an East Campus hallway, quiet and sterile, welcomed us. Steph led us up to the second floor and down the hall, where she knocked on one of the doors. Thirty seconds of silence passed. She knocked again. The door swung open, and a face peered out at us. “What?” Steph took a step back. “Where’s Nina?” “Who’s that?” “This is her room.” “No, it’s not.” The person shuffled out of the room, most of their body wrapped in a fleece blanket. I spotted the ears of two bunny slippers peeking out beneath the end of it. “But what are you up to? No one ever comes down this hall and I’m lonely.”

Steph and I looked at each other. “There’s a movie night supposed to happen,” I said finally. The person brightened. “A movie! Can I join?” “Sure,” Steph said. “Let’s check the lounge.” It was easier dragging Joey down the stairs than up. Still, we barely avoided catastrophe during our descent when one of his flailing feet stepped on our new friend’s trailing blanket. I looked through the big glass window of the first-floor lounge, expecting to see the faraway lights of the Bear or North Campus. Instead, all I saw was the moonlight reflecting off a sea of undulating corn. There was indeed a group of students clustered around the TV, who turned at our approach. “Where’d you find these guys, Cameron?” One of them, who was lounging on a beanbag chair, addressed our companion. “They found me,” Cameron responded, heaving a sigh at the screen. “Cars 2? I’m so sick of that movie. I’ve memorized it.” “We don’t have any other movies, unless one of the newbies brought one with them.” Steph, Joey, Cameron, and I sat down on the floor as the students moved to make room for us. Steph was scanning their faces, brow furrowed. A glance at her face told me that her friend was not among the group. “So, what’re your names?” a smiling girl turned and asked us. We introduced ourselves to a friendly murmur from the group. “And class years?” “I’m a fourth year—” I began, but was cut off by a “No, the actual year.” “Umm, 2023.” This was greeted by a general ruckus of amazement. (“That’s so young.” “Look at these babies.”) Steph cut in. “Is this, like, a club? Are we intruding?” She grabbed my hand and made as if to stand. The person sitting on the beanbag reached for the remote in their lap to turn off the TV. “No, you’re not intruding. Don’t worry. Let me ask: How did you get here?” We told the group our harrowing experience of fending for ourselves in the dark following a game night gone sour. “That’s almost what happened to me,” Cameron said. “I was walking home from a late-night study session and got lost.” Others chimed in. “I was in a HSSC room when it said, ‘This room will automatically shut down in 60 seconds’, and I didn’t leave fast enough.” “The power went off when I was doing my laundry in the basement.” “My buddies dared me to climb up the crane, and I fell off at the top.” Steph and I looked at each other, then at Joey, who had now recovered enough to sit up without wobbling. I asked the question that was going through all of our heads. “Where exactly are we?” Cameron smiled. “Welcome to West Campus.” “Have you just been…stuck here?” Steph asked. There were nods of assent around the room. “We’ve tried to go outside, but there’s nothing but corn in every direction.” “There’s no classes, no clubs, nothing.” “We have barely anything to eat. I dream about Dhall desserts every night.” “You mentioned the crane,” I said in horror. “We haven’t had a crane on campus for more than four years now.” “That’s really a shame,” Crane Guy said. “You should get another one.” “How do we leave?” I said. “Wait, no classes means no homework.That sounds pretty good,” Steph said. “Steph, I am not missing my last season ever of collegiate athletics.” She sighed, dragging a hand across her face. “And if I miss rehearsal tomorrow, I’ll never hear the end of it. Can we leave?” Cameron checked their watch. “If you’re quick. You gotta go now, to make it out before dawn.” They stood up. “I’ll show you out.” Steph and I looked at each other, hardly believing it. We both reached down to grab Joey, only to find — he wasn’t there. Steph swore. “He was just here!” Joey, normally a docile drunk, could

usually be counted on not to move too far. We looked at each other in panic. “Byethanksforeverythinghopeyougetout,” I said, grabbed Steph, and sprinted down the hall. The massive swarm of bees crawling up my esophagus stilled briefly when I spotted Joey through the kitchen window. Steph yanked the door open. The room was a complete mess. Wrappers and detritus of all kinds littered the floor, and the sink was piled with dirty dishes. A stack of ramen packages in the corner went from floor to ceiling. Joey sat on the counter, slurping a quart of ice cream with his bare hands. “What the fuck, Joey!” Joey shrugged. “I was hungry. Sorry.” Loath to touch his disgustingly sticky hands, I grabbed his elbow and yanked him along. Steph followed suit, and we chased Cameron down the hall. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the place was in bad shape. The lights flickered, obscuring my view of the carpet, which was covered in a myriad of stains. Black Sharpie covered the walls in various forms, from a tic-tac-toe game to a sonnet to some horribly anatomically correct drawings. Cameron flung open the door, revealing stairs spiraling down into ominous darkness. We took them two at a time. “I can walk by myself,” said Joey, “jeez!” “That would’ve been nice, like, an hour ago,” Steph said, loosening her grip but not letting go. The basement was one long hallway whose walls pressed in on us like the Dhall line on potsticker night. As we hurtled through the darkness, following the slapping sounds of bunny slippers on concrete, a clattering sound of metal clashing filled the air. “What is that?” I yelled. “The laundry machines,” Cameron bellowed. “We think.” The hallway finally drew to an end as we approached a single metal door, faintly illuminated by an EXIT sign above it. We staggered to a stop. Cameron reached beneath their blanket, rummaging frantically. After the two longest seconds of my life, they produced a thick sheaf of paper. “My final paper,” they explained. “Can you give this to Professor Nielsen, and tell her I’m sorry I wasn’t able to finish my MAP?” I nodded, snatched it, and stuffed it into my jacket as Cameron took off back down the hall. Steph was already wrestling with the door. I grabbed the handle, and we both heaved. It inched open, revealing the deep blue of a sky just before sunrise. Like diving headfirst into cold water, I threw myself through the door, the crisp air now rejuvenating instead of chilling. I felt a sudden yank on the hand that was holding Joey’s elbow. “Guys? Wait up! Hey, wait for me!” I heard him squawk. Try as I might, I couldn’t pull him any further. My fingers slipped, and Steph and I plummeted to earth.

π

The next thing I knew, I was flat on my back on Mac Field, all the wind knocked out of me, one of Steph’s elbows digging into my side. Brilliant orange bled over the horizon, suffusing everything in the gold of dawn. A well-loved baseball cap floated down from above, landing gently on my chest.

A New Friend

Josephine Blumenthal

digital art