Page 32 of A Mastery of Monsters

I wake up to Bailey calling me. And it’s FaceTime.

Even better. The dorms outside are noisy with people moving around.

Every day here is like living in the world’s most chaotic apartment building.

I only had one morning class for the whole day and decided to give myself the joy of a nap that’s now becoming short-lived.

I already ignored Bailey yesterday, and at some point, she’ll alert Dad if she fears I’ve dropped off the face of the Earth.

Or disappeared, like Jules.

I answer without bothering to sit up straight, propping the phone on my nightstand.

“Hey!” She stares around the screen. “How is your room? Do you like it? Do you have a roommate?”

“No, it’s a single.”

I hadn’t explained a lot to her. I just announced that I’d decided to go to Queen’s after all. The way her face lit up…

“Oh, wow,” Bailey says, her eyes going wide.

I know she’s wondering how I can afford a single and everything else with just my student loans, since she and Dad think that’s how I’m funding my education. That was the original plan. “I need to go meet some friends, so…”

“How is everything? Have you heard from Jules at all?”

“No.”

Bailey bites her lip. “I wish he would call to let us know he’s okay. This isn’t like him.”

She’s right. It isn’t.

“Well, I’m always here if you need me. Just a ferry ride away,” she says.

“Cool. I gotta go.”

“Okay, love you, bye.”

I hang up and grip the phone in my hand, squeezing my eyes shut. I don’t even know Bailey. But she’s the one calling to ask how school is. She’s the one texting me to see if I’m enjoying my classes. But Dad was so proud, right? He was going to come by once he was less busy, right?

I don’t want him to come, so it’s fine.

At least I have some time to breathe for a little bit.

I passed yesterday’s training with flying colors and have another couple of weeks before the societal knowledge one.

Otherwise, I have Margot’s horrible running routine plus her grueling sessions, but on the bright side, soon I’ll be doing training with Corey, who I know will be a lot less spartan.

I finally have a bit of freedom, and I plan to use it seeing what I can learn about Jules.

With my current knowledge of the Learners, they wouldn’t let monsters roam around unchecked.

Either (1) this Master that the monster is partnered with is amazing at covering their tracks, or (2) the society is in on this somehow.

But why murder and/or kidnap random students?

I can guess that maybe the attack on me was a way to get to Jules.

But what’s the connection between him and Samantha?

I look her up again. It’s a useless exercise, since there’s never anything new. Except this time, there is.

The Queen’s Black Student Society presents the freshman welcome mixer! Donations will be collected for Samantha George’s family to assist in bringing their daughter home.

I scramble to find the date.

It’s tonight.

The Yellow House is actually yellow, though much paler than I imagined.

More pastel than sunshine. The small building across from the Adelaide Hall residence looks like something you’d see in the English countryside with quaint rounded windows.

The door is painted the same forest green as the first-floor shutters.

It reminds me of a less grand version of McIntosh Castle. They have the same aesthetic.

Outside they decorated with balloons and put up a sign that says, QBSS MIXER! It also notes below that this is a safe space for LGBTQIA2S+ folks. I step up to the door, shifting in place.

Probably, I should have a better plan going into this. But I don’t. I figure that if I go and take part in enough conversations, I’ll learn something about Samantha. Make some sort of connection between her and my brother other than them being Black and Queen’s students.

I open the door and enter. I’m low-key shocked that it looks like an actual house inside. There are two couches with colorful slipcovers, a few bookshelves, and a coffee table that’s been shoved off to the side. There are only twenty or so people in the room, but it’s so tiny that it feels packed.

Obviously, I see Black people on campus, but it’s different to walk into a space entirely made up of people who look like me.

And it’s more than that. There’s a curry scent wafting from another room that reminds me of Grandma cooking on Christmas when I was little, before she passed.

And music drifting from someone’s speakers, soft enough not to interfere with conversation, but loud enough to recognize.

It’s the sort of song Mom and Dad played in the car, shit that me and Jules made fun of them for because we were like, “What is this?” Our parents gasping when we didn’t recognize the artist. I swallow and shove my hands into my pockets.

“Welcome!” an upperclassman says with a smile, standing behind a desk pushed against the wall.

He has a well-kept beard and bright brown eyes.

Eager. Like he sits up front in every lecture.

He holds out a clipboard to me. “I’m Jackson.

I head up our event planning.” When he speaks, there’s a flash of gold in the back of his mouth—one of his molars is capped in it.

It’s an odd style choice given his vibe, but it’s not my business.

“If you put down your name and email, we can get you on the newsletter. This is our first event of the year, but we do a ton. We’ll send out emails whenever we have one coming up. ”

I accept the clipboard and write down my details. I don’t want to, but I figure no one will talk to me if I open with “I don’t want to be on your email list.” I hand it back to him and say, “I also wanted to donate? For, um, Samantha, the girl who’s missing.”

“I got you, thanks for donating.” He reaches for a large jar on the table that has a photo of the girl.

It’s the same one they used in the Queen’s Journal article.

She has red, blue, and yellow face paint on and is wearing a tam.

We got our own at the end of orientation last week.

Corey insisted we take pictures in them, so now I unfortunately have a record of me in the blue beret-looking hat with its striped brim and red pom-pom.

I drop five dollars in the jar and prepare to ask him questions about Samantha when someone says, “You came.”

I turn to find myself facing Riley. She’s in a black T-shirt dress that looks effortlessly cool and casual on her, accessorizing with her many necklaces, bracelets, and rings.

“You said if I tried this out, you’d leave me alone,” I say.

“That’s the spirit.”

Jackson looks between the two of us. “You know Riley?”

“She’s the reason I’m here.”

His lips form a tentative smile. “Cool, uh, she’s my girlfriend. And our treasurer. Sorry, I missed your name.”

“This is August,” Riley answers for me, looping her arm in mine. “And I’m borrowing her. See you later.”

“Yeah, see you…”

His eyes follow us as Riley drags me away, his smile morphing into a frown.

“Let me introduce you to some people.” She leads me through the other spaces in the house.

In the dining room, she presents me to other first years who I assume she hopes I’ll be friends with.

And then we transition to the kitchen, where I accept a bottle of Ting.

I haven’t had the pop in years. I twist off the cap and sip from the green glass rim.

I eye the plates of curried chicken and rice and peas being dished out.

After. I need to focus on getting information.

As we circle back to the living room, I spot Cam and Janey from Tim’s. They wave. And I manage a stiff smile. “You know them?” Riley asks.

“We used to work together.”

“So, you hung out and stuff?”

“Not what I said.”

Riley raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay… Hey, actually, I want to show you something.” She walks me up to the second floor.

It’s an open attic with a couple of tables and chairs.

It seems to be a flex space, judging by the random assortment of items, including a few teddy bears lined up on the window ledge.

It’s also apparently off-limits to partygoers, because me and Riley are the only people here.

She sighs as she looks at the file boxes on the tables.

“We just bought a house to be the new official club space. Should be ready next semester. We’re in the process of moving our files out of the Rideau Building down the street.

I forgot they said they’d drop these off for us.

Do you mind waiting here? I’m going to see if Jackson can come grab them. ”

“No, it’s cool. I’ll wait.” I would have texted him, but to each their own, I guess.

As soon as she leaves the room, I make my way to the box of files and set down my Ting bottle. I lift out and flick through the papers and then carefully slot them back where they were. I don’t know if there would be anything on Samantha in here, but I may as well take advantage of the opportunity.

What I find is absolutely nothing.

The door opens, and I turn toward it, pretending to look nonchalant.

Riley smiles and pushes the door closed behind her.

I smile back.

She raises her phone and turns the screen toward me, and I watch the playback of a video taken in this room of me riffling through their files. The smile drops off my face but stays on Riley’s.

Where the… I look at the stuffed animals on the window ledge and then back at her phone, which she’s switched to a live feed. I watch myself reach out for one of the bears. I let my hand drop. “Did you seriously nanny cam me?!”

“Yes. And I can see now that it was the right move.”

“What’s your angle?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says, her voice cool. “You show up out of nowhere, not on anyone’s radar, and then suddenly you’re enrolled in a school you said you don’t attend, and you’re hanging out with people like Margot Bouchard and attending Summerhill meetings.”