The Cold Gallery
Emma and her mother joined the line of kids and parents in Riggleman Hall’s foyer. They’d be waiting a while. The Freshman Orientation coordinators had scheduled far too few advisors for far too many students.
Suddenly, a chill crept across Emma’s back, and she felt a pair of icy hands close around her neck.
“Hey!” She whirled around.
“What’s the matter?” Her mom looked puzzled.
“Someone...” Emma trailed off. Not only was nobody standing behind her, nobody was within twenty feet of her. “Nothing. Just my nerves, I guess.”
“Well, this is nice.” Emma’s mother led the way into the dorm room and plunked down the duffel bag. “Very nice, don’t you think?”
“Um.” Emma set down her suitcases. The relentlessly beige room was smaller than it had looked on the university websit
