How to Survive College (Student's Edition)

**Rule 1:** Don't use sleep aids. * * * The sleepy part of me says I should be in bed, not lurking in my pajamas in the shadows of the campus quad. It’s 10:43 p.m. on a Tuesday and I’m waiting for a box of mysterious instructions that I’m told will help me survive college. I’ve never been good at following instructions, but an early semester's worth of strange events and my roommate's disappearance have made this seem like my best chance at staying alive. I'm currently breaking two rules to get the instructions, but I’m not too stressed about the whole thing. I can sleep in my car tomorrow and I don't live in the dorms. My first and only roommate at school was a junior named Laura, who shared a two-bedroom apartment with her boyfriend. They let me move in a few weeks before classes started. We had to start paying rent, but they only charged me $200 a month to sleep on their couch. Laura’s apartment is where I am tonight, and if our “Student's Guide” is right, it’s the safest place on campus. It’s only a few stories high – in college years – and surrounded by larger buildings. Laura promised to meet me at her apartment by 10:30, but she never showed. So I’m parked in the quad, waiting for her instructions and watching her building. The box is supposed to slide across my hood at 10:45 and I don’t want to miss it. * * * **Rule 2:** You can’t trust a student. * * * There’s a student walking straight for my car, and this is getting weird. I watch from the shadows of an enormous tree as a young woman in a yellow sundress walks across the quad, weaving between parked cars. She’s carrying a shoe box painted like a watermelon and she’s headed for my car. I was expecting something like this, but I still feel uneasy. Laura and her boyfriend claim to have some insider information and that the box is a key to survival, but they haven’t told me much. It seems unlikely that a box of instructions would just slide across my hood like it fell from the sky, but I was too afraid to ask for details. The woman in the sundress is the first person I’ve seen outside of their apartment. As a freshman, I felt a little embarrassed that I hadn’t met any other students until a few days ago, when the basketball team went missing. I now see my lack of a social life as a blessing. It seems that the more people you know, the higher your chances of being killed. I watch the woman as she crawls onto the hood of my car. She sets the box gently in front of her and looks around as though she’s making sure no one is watching. I step out from behind the tree and approach the car. Slowly. I don’t want to scare her. I also don't want to be killed. “What are you doing on my car?” I ask. She looks up with a mixture of fear and anger in her eyes. “This is your car?” “Yes. Is that for me?” “Yes,” she says. “It’s your box.” I crawl onto the car next to her and examine the box. It’s heavier than I expected, and one side is wet and lumpy. I point it out to the woman and ask, “Is this blood?” “Yes,” she says. “The box will bleed after a few hours. That’s how you know the rules are inside.” I nod and open the box. There are no instructions. There is only a bloodstained note. It isn’t watermelon-painted, like the box. It isn’t painted at all. The ink looks black, but it’s probably blood. I hold it up to the woman. “This isn’t the instructions,” I say. “This is just a note. Laura told me—” “I don’t know any Laura,” she interrupts. “I was told to bring this box to this car, and I didn’t know what it was for. But I know what this note says.” “Show me.” She takes the note from my hand and sets it between us. Scanning it quickly, I read aloud, "Break a rule. Break the curse." She smiles weakly and speaks softly. “I think I’m going to be in a lot of trouble.” I look at her. I see the fear in her eyes. I want to kill her, but I don’t. I know that’s wrong. * * * **Rule 3:** Don’t smile at the students. * * * As we sit parked in the quad, the students begin to smile at me. They smile at me and I know they're dead. I don't know how many students have died. I don't know how many are still alive. And I don't know how many are like me. But I do know that those who are alive are the smiling ones, and they aren't really alive. I smile back at them and realize that I'm one of them. I've noticed that I'm smiling a lot lately, and it makes me feel bad. Some of the students have come closer, to sit in the car with us. We all sit smiling at each other, but I'm not really smiling. I'm just pretending. I don't know whether I'm still alive or not, but I want to be. I pull out my phone, which I took out of my pocket when I left the shadows, and dial Laura’s number. Laura doesn’t answer. I call her boyfriend, and he doesn’t answer either. I dial the number for my mom and my brother, but they don't answer either. I put my phone away and watch as the students crawl into the backseat, smiling at me and my new friend and each other. Those in the backseat have started to hum – a hauntingly beautiful sound that makes me want to kill my friend. “What’s going on?” I ask my friend. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think I’m the rule breaker. I followed these instructions because I knew this is a rule breaker car.” “How did you know?” “I think they heard that this is a rule breaker car. They’re watching us.” “Who’s they?” “The staff,” she says. “They’re the ones who gave me that box. They're watching you, too. They’re coming for us.” I look at her and start to feel scared. Not for her, but for myself. But I try to ignore that. I really try. I put my hand on her shoulder and squeeze gently. “Don’t be afraid,” I say. “Nothing bad will happen. You’ll be fine.” I take her hand, and she doesn’t protest. I take her out of the car and close all the doors on my way out. I slam the doors and I know that everyone inside is dead. I smile at the students and they smile back at me and we all know that they’re dead. I push my car into a nearby parking spot and take my friend by the hand. I don't want to smile at her, so I turn my head and look at the ground. “Be careful of the staff,” she says. I nod and squeeze her hand. We walk to a nearby parking lot, where I abandon my car. Someone will find it and take my phone and my keys. Some student will break into Laura’s apartment and find my ID and my money. They’ll find Laura’s boyfriend’s gun and they’ll take it. I don’t need any of that stuff, because I don’t need to survive. I’m not alive. As we walk, we see more smiling students. They’ve all come out now. All of them are dead. We're dead, too. And we're smiling. We walk into the night, and they all follow us.

How to Survive College (Student's Edition)

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