Chapter One

My rusty little '85 Dodge Colt expelled a mechanical sigh of pure exhaustion as I wearily pulled the key from the ignition, and just like that my long, grueling journey over several hundred miles of high desert mountains abruptly sputtered to a halt.

It felt strange, dizzying, and somewhat unnatural for me to have finally stopped moving, but I was simultaneously grateful the broken hatch had at last quit producing its incessant rattling noise. The sound had been plaguing me since early that morning, and not even my stereo turned up at full volume could drown out the cacophony.

Leaning forward and resting my tired arms against the steering wheel, I gazed for several moments through the smudged windshield at three identical buildings standing directly in front of me. They were made of reddish brick and dominated the college campus like a row of sturdy fortresses. A small group of guys played Frisbee in the open area next to the parking lot, and a pair of girls wearing tank tops and too much make-up sat under a nearby tree, smoking a pack of cigarettes.

Neatly framed between the two nearest buildings, an ominous-looking, rust- colored sun had positioned itself low on the horizon, quivering like an enormous copper coin at the bottom of a shallow stream. The elongated shadows it cast upon the ground seemed to stretch eastward as far as the eye could see-gigantic, surrealistic fingers clinging in defiance to a reality intended to be left behind.

I closed my eyes only to find the image temporarily emblazoned against the insides of my corneas. Blinking and shaking my head in irritation, I yanked my heavy luggage from the passenger's seat, slamming the car door shut behind me.

My entire body was aching and stiff, and I couldn't help grimacing a little as I made my way across the lawn towards the dormitories. I had just completed a tedious drive from my hometown of Cattail Springs, Utah, to Westensen University in northeastern California. Along the way I'd accidentally taken a wrong turn somewhere in the middle of nowhere. It had been a long time before I was finally able to figure out exactly where I was and get back on the right road.

Fortunately, the dormitory office was still open, and since my classes wouldn't be starting until ten o'clock the next morning there was still plenty of time for me to unpack and rest up after my long journey.

According to the employee at the front office, I would find my assigned room somewhere on the third floor of the last building. I checked myself in and lugged my suitcase and my electric guitar equipment over the threshold of my new home. It opened into a spacious lobby with a TV blaring on the closest wall. The room was occupied by a bunch of guys sitting on the couch, yelling at the football players on the screen.

As I wandered through the labyrinth of corridors in search of room 307, I was amazed at the variety of people I saw. Some wore outlandish black clothing and sported multi-colored hairdos. Others were dressed in crisp, collared shirts that buttoned up the front. A few opted for a more causal look, adorning themselves in old, tattered jeans and baggy T-shirts. I even saw a couple of hippie-type individuals with long flowing hair, strings of colored beads, and fringe everywhere they could stick it. Several beer bottles littered the hallways and the unfamiliar stench of what I supposed to be marijuana lingered in the air like cheap cologne.

I definitely wasn't in Cattail Springs anymore.

Finding myself surrounded by such a vast assortment of personalities, I couldn't help but wonder what kind of person my new roommate might be. The only information I had about this guy had come to me about a month earlier in the form of a letter from the dorm headquarters, notifying me of the fact that he went by the name of Robert Flemmings. You can't tell much about a person by simply reading a few words printed across a piece of paper, and I was more than a little curious as to what he would look like, what sports teams he rooted for, and just how loud I would be able to play my electric guitar before he started throwing things at me.

I impulsively held the guitar in its lightweight canvas gig bag closer against my body, protecting it from the hustle and bustle of the crowded hallways. I knew I would feel terrible if anything ever happened to it. It was the same guitar my younger brother David and I had shared before he'd been killed in a bike accident three years previously. The instrument's smooth outer finish was worn and scratched in half a dozen places from years of playing, but otherwise I had kept it in good repair. For me there was something extraordinary about the crisp, high-pitched notes played in rapid succession, slicing through the air like razors; the loud, mechanical growl of the lower notes that seemed to make the ground shiver beneath my feet . . . in fact, when I played it, I often felt as if David was somehow alive again. I could almost see him sitting in the corner of our bedroom listening to me; I could picture him laughing hysterically whenever I mucked up the chords to our favorite songs. I could even remember the two of us bickering over whose turn it was to hold it.

Sensing my skin flush red with emotion, I shook the images from my head and continued down the hallway. This was no time for me to start getting sentimental. If I was ever going to get over David's tragedy, I was going to have to stop focusing my attention on the past. Of course I didn't want to forget my brother completely, and the guitar would always be precious to me because of the memories it represented. But I also needed to experience new surroundings and a fresh start in life if I was ever going to escape the overwhelming sense of loss and disappointment that had been gnawing at me like a parasite for the past three years.

That's why I'd decided to move away to college.

Shifting my heavy luggage into a more comfortable position, I leaned against the wall and waited patiently for the elevator doors to open. I was joined by a young man and his girlfriend-obviously high-school sweethearts- who paid me little heed as they gazed into each other's lovesick eyes and murmured idiotic sentiments to one another the entire way up.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to get along without you," she said, brushing her rose-colored lips gently against his. "Why couldn't you have chosen a school closer to home?"

"I'll be back to visit you every weekend," he promised as he pulled her slim body against his and stroked her long blonde hair.

"That's not enough," she whimpered, a single, crystalline tear slipping down her cheek. "How will I ever be happy knowing you're so far away from me?"

By the time we arrived at the third floor, I felt even more jaded than I'd been before I got into the elevator. The whole scene struck me as being cheesy and contrived. How naïve. What did they know about missing someone? They'd probably never been apart for longer than a single class period.

Something deep inside of me was telling me to lighten up, but the admonishment barely even registered. I had already forgotten my previous resolve and was now brooding over how spoiled and annoying everyone was. After going through what I had gone through, the kind of ignorance displayed by the starry-eyed couple in the elevator sickened me. It made me want to scream at them.

As devastating and hurtful as it had been, the pain surrounding the loss of my brother wasn't the only reason I'd made up my mind to leave home. The other reason was the fact that my parents were really starting to get on my nerves. Both of them had been pressuring me all summer long to serve an LDS mission, and they were seriously driving me up the wall. I simply didn't want to devote two whole years of my life to something I wasn't even sure I believed in anymore. I wasn't able fully explain my new-found reservations about the church, but I couldn't deny the fact that they were there. I still went to church meetings on Sundays when I wasn't "sick," but only because I didn't want to draw attention to myself. If I had stopped going to church completely, both my family and my predominantly Mormon neighborhood would have been sure to notice. The last thing I wanted was to make my parents freak out or to have some well-meaning yet annoying member of the elder's quorum come up with a cheesy re-activation campaign for the local "Jack Mormon." It was much easier for me to prevent them from discovering I had gone astray than it was to have them try to drag me back into the fold.

But it was impossible for me to keep my wavering faith a secret forever. The announcement that I wasn't planning on serving a mission pretty much blew my cover. During the final weeks before I left Utah, I couldn't even talk to my parents without getting into some kind of argument. I guess they'd been hoping I'd follow in the footsteps of my older brother Alex, who'd served his mission in British Colombia and recently married a beautiful young woman in the Provo temple. But I wasn't like Alex. I was my own person with my own interests, and they didn't include going to church.

No matter how many times I attempted to explain my reasons for not wanting to serve a mission, Mom and Dad just didn't understand. They didn't want to understand. They expected me to ignore all the doubts and suspicions that had arisen as a result of David's accident and go on living my life as if it had never happened.

Nothing seemed to make sense to me anymore. My family was disappointed in me and my faith in God had all but disintegrated. And I was angry-angry at my parents, angry at the church, angry at the world. It all seemed so complicated that I didn't even want to take the time to sort it out anymore. The prospect of moving away and starting over from scratch sounded much more appealing. And the college I had chosen-Westensen University in the city of Richfield, California-seemed like just the place for me.

Mainly because of the fact that it was six hundred miles away from Cattail Springs.

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A.N. Please let me know what you think of my character, Zack, so I can make sure my readers are interpreting his motives and emotions the way I hope they are! Thanks so much for reviewing! I'll introduce you to Robert in the next chapter.