I'll Be Here

know, I know.  And I’ll make sure to stick to the speed limit and buckle my seatbelt.  And I won’t take candy from strange men in unmarked white vans.”
                “Actually, don’t take candy from anyone.”
                “Fair enough.”
                We hang up and I stare up at the lofty brick mammoth with curling spirals of white stone outlining the windows.  Long sloping walls angle out from four identical gables.  Is that called a buttress?   I’m not really up on my architectural terms.
    By the time I walk up the seven steps to the front entrance my nerves are crackling with anticipation.  I know my hands are clammy because they slip on the doorknob. 
                The inside of the beast is not at all like I expect.  It’s a cross between shabby and antiseptic—with walls the color of masking tape and a trail of humming florescent lights dotting the ceiling.  There’s a foosball table to my right and a sofa in an unfortunate pattern of browns and greens facing an extra-large television.  A guy about my age is asleep in a corner chair.  His socked feet are propped up on an empty laundry basket. 
    To my left there is a window and a counter of blue laminate that I think must be some kind of check-in desk.  A floppy haired boy with glasses is sitting behind the window thrumming through a paperback.  He looks up when I walk in.
    “Guest?”  He asks in a bored tone.
    My first impulse is to turn around and walk back out the door to my car and drive home.  How stupid is that? 
    I take a breath and rally.  “Um… yeah, I guess.”
    The boy slides a clipboard forward and instructs me to sign in and not to forget to sign out when I leave.  Then he points to a sad looking bulletin board that declares “Rules” in faded black construction paper letters across the top.  
    “How do I know which room?”  I ask.
    “Who are you here to see?”
    My cheeks flush.  “Alex Faber.”
    Glasses finally looks at me and he’s wearing this expression like, And who the hell are you?  I take a step back, my nerves retreating with my body. 
    He puts down his book and clears his throat.  “Does he know you’re coming?”
    My voice is weightless, like smoke crawling up into the air.  “No, he doesn’t.”
    I am sure that this boy is going to laugh and tell me to call Alex or go home, but he just shakes his head and says, “Room 311.”  And then he turns back to his book like I’m no longer there. 
    I swallow and put my name down on the list in blue ink, and then I’m in the elevator pressing the button for floor three. 
    Room 311 is around a corner and towards the end of a hall just beyond the stairwell.  Each door I pass has a little silver-framed plate beside it with the names of the room’s inhabitants.  I pause in front of the beige door and double-check.  There it is.  Alexander Faber . 
    My pulse is buzzing and my stomach is a riot of butterflies and half-digested peanut butter cookies.  I lift my hand and let it fall.  Once… twice… three times. 
    A few millennia pass.
    The hair on my head goes grey.  
    My teeth turn brittle and fall out, clattering to the floor like dropped beads.
                Finally, the door cracks and a pair of blue eyes peek out and my heart pops.  The door opens wider and in front of me is a pretty brown-haired girl with fluttering blue eyes and a pink tulip mouth. 
    My insides feel sick.
    “Hi,” she says.  “Are you looking for somebody?”
    Am I?  What am I doing here? 
    It’s like my brain is an engine that’s stalled.  The girl is starting to look at me suspiciously and I can’t say that I blame her. 
    I mumble something that she can’t hear and then crank the volume up a notch.  “I’m here to see Alex.”
    “Oh,” the girl’s voice is star-bright and sweet.  “He’s actually out right now.  Do you want me to get him a message?”
    “Uh—no, that’s fine,” I manage to croak out as I back up.  I turn around not wanting to incriminate myself further.  “Signs look good” my ass.  I’ll have to let mom know that her friend Alana is a hack.
    “Wait!”  The pretty girl calls, catching up with me at a bend in the hall. 
    “Wait!” She says again and this time she’s right behind me.  I really have no choice but to turn around and face her.
    She’s got her nose crinkled up and her eyebrows pulled together. 
    “You’re not Willow by any