Page 34 of Under Story

But Charlie finds a chain and pulls.

“What does he look like?” Louis asks, in the interrogatory light of the bulb.

“Don’t be so loud,” says Laurel. “He’s right outside. Curly brown hair. Brown eyes.”

Louis cracks the door and peeks out.

“Wow,” he says, closing it.

“Not relevant,” says Charlie.

“Breathe,” Nita says, and Laurel tries.

“Not like that. The way Miles showed you.” Louis winks. “Remember him?”

Laurel braces her hands against her knees. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

“It’s not too late to fly out before winter,” Charlie says, putting a hand on her back.

“But I want to be here. I won’t let him take that away from me.”

“That’s the spirit,” Louis says. “But I would stay in the dish pit today if I were you. You look like you’ve come straight from someone else’s bed.”

When Louis leans against the door, Laurel realizes that he must not have shut it completely. She watches in horror as it creaks open. The physicists peer in.

Nita and Charlie step in front of Laurel, who shrinks behind an industrial mop. Louis grabs a bucket and a spray bottle.

“Excuse us,” he says, with dignity. “Someone threw up in the library.”

Charlie pulls the light switch, hiding Laurel. Louis looks at Eli.

“Good day,” he says, before Nita shuts the door.

—

Laurel does stay in the dish pit, trading with Charlie, who offers to gather intel on the floor.

“Why don’t I get to be the spy?” whines Louis.

“Because I don’t trust you.” Laurel throws a sponge at him. “ ‘Good day’?”

“Everyone deserves a warm welcome to the continent,” he says. “Even your ex-husband.”

Charlie doesn’t see Eli all day. At eight, she and Louis return to the dorm, but Laurel decides to stay: Bertha, the dishwasher, has doused the floor with slime, and the cleanup will buy her time. Laurel strategizes while mopping. She’ll feel more like herself after a shower; then she can figure out which room is Eli’s and make sure to avoid it.

Laurel pulls her cap low and leaves the galley at a clip. As she enters the hallway, Eli approaches from the other direction.

At first, he only opens his mouth.

“Laurel?” he asks, as though he doesn’t trust his eyes—as though he would be less surprised to find a doppelganger here than his own ex-wife.

Laurel lifts a shoulder.

“Eli,” she says, helplessly.

“What are you doing here?” asks Eli. “Did you—follow me?”

“I’ve been here since October,” says Laurel. “Did you follow me?”