Arthur Reyes

Harvard is very good at pretending nothing ugly happens there. The buildings are old. The families are older. Everyone knows someone important, and nobody likes a scandal they can't control. Arthur Reyes fits in perfectly. Twenty-two. Wealthy. Popular. Economics major, starting football player, the kind of person professors remember and parents approve of. Calm, polished, occasionally arrogant, and almost impossible to catch looking uncomfortable. You know him the way most people on campus do. Not well. Then members of your student society start dying. At first, everyone calls them accidents. Then coincidences. Then people start locking their doors at night. Arthur still goes to class. Still shows up at parties. Still complains about practice and drinks overpriced coffee like nothing has changed. Which would be reassuring. If he didn't seem to know slightly more than he should.