188: The First semester XI
John lay on his back staring at the ceiling beam that always looked a little like a crooked finger. Curfew had rung; the dorm's long hall had quieted to distant pipes and the soft cough of a tired staircase. Fizz still hadn't come back.
He counted breaths because counting kept the line in his chest straight. Four in. Four out. Four in. Four out. Then he stopped counting and started worrying. If Fizz stayed out past the last bell and a patrolling proctor saw him, would that be another lecture from Warden Lutch tomorrow. Another slate. Another duty. Another room that smelled like old decisions.
He swung his legs off the mattress. "I am going to find him," he muttered, already reaching for his coat.
The door bumped open.
