"Is that him?" Toby asked, pointing across the busy quad.
Grayson looked. "Yes. That is him."
Chad Harrington was walking out of the main dormitory building. He did not look like the president of the most exclusive fraternity on campus. He wore a wrinkled grey t-shirt and grey sweatpants. He did not have a backpack. He was dragging his feet, looking at the concrete path instead of the people around him.
"He looks sick," Toby said, squinting against the morning sun. "He looks like a zombie."
"He is in shock," Grayson replied, leaning against the oak tree. "His brain is attempting to process a reality that contradicts his entire existence."
"People are actively avoiding him," Toby noticed.
It was true. As Chad walked down the path, students stepped out of his way. They did not make eye
