Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I woke up in the middle of the night and Amani led me outside to the field, where it started snowing. She threw a snowball at me.”
“When did this happen?” he asks carefully.
“I don’t know. Time is a blur. A week ago?”
His gaze sharpens, the grey becoming flint. “And you never told me. You know you’re not supposed to keep secrets from me.”
I laugh. “Oh, how the tables have turned. Sorry I didn’t tell you, guess I was distracted by a million other fucking things happening that I have no explanation for.”
He stares at me for a moment, the wheels turning behind his eyes. “It’s interesting.”
“Oh yeah, snow in June and having ghosts wallop snowballs at you is real interesting.”
“Amani isn’t a ghost,” he says. “As far as I know, she’s not dead. She was here and then she went home.”
“So then what? I’m hallucinating her?”
“Yes. That is the most logical explanation. Same as when you saw her before.”
“Then the snowball was a hallucination too?”
“It can be.”
“And snow in June?”
“We’re too close to the ocean for that to happen. On the surrounding mountains? Sure, if a strange cold front moved in from the north. But not down here.”
Well, fuck.
So I really did just imagine the whole thing.
Wait.
Or did I?
“What happened with Clayton?” I ask suddenly.
His gaze thins. “What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean,” I tell him. “One minute he’s harassing me, the next he’s being sent home on a seaplane.”
“I thought that would have made you happy,” he says stiffly.
“Happy?” I exclaim. “You did that for me?”
“Of course.”
I can’t help but stare at him. “You put Clayton on the seaplane and sent him home? For me?”
“I did.”
I can’t decide if this is terribly romantic or something else.
“What…” I begin. “And he went willingly?”
He nods.
But I don’t believe him.
I remember Everly coming in to talk to him this morning. “Did Everly know?”
“She knew he was being a nuisance to you. She wanted him gone. So I got rid of him.”
Got rid of him.
Just like they got rid of Amani…
CHAPTER 22
“It’s better now that Clayton is gone,” Kincaid says, getting up and going to the kitchen. “He was trouble. Shouldn’t have been accepted to begin with, but sometimes Michael and Everly take pity on those less fortunate, students that don’t have a lot of family or money.”
“People like me,” I say as he pours tea into the mugs.
“No,” he says sharply. “You’re smart. Your grades prove it. You have potential. You’re not here out of pity.”
“That’s hard to believe when my grandmother and father’s death keeps being brought up, as well as my lack of funds.” I think about what Nick said, that I don’t have a job, or scholarship. That I had nothing. “There was that space on the application form that asked us to list any hardships we had gone through. I regret filling that out now.”
And my mind is running away on me, my mind that I can no longer trust.
What do I actually think happened? That Kincaid murdered him?
No.
But if I start hallucinating him, like I hallucinated Amani, then something else is going on and it’s not the fault of my brain.
He brings me the mug of chamomile tea and sits down. Sighing, he runs his hand over his face, and I glance at the brass clock on the wall, realizing it’s two in the morning. No wonder he’s exhausted, I woke him up mid-sleep.
Then again, he’s wearing his clothes, so I guess he was already awake.
“I know this is scary, Syd. But everything you’ve told me isn’t surprising.”
“What about the unearthed grave? I hope that was surprising.”
“It was,” he says slowly. “But it was dark. You don’t know what you fell on.”
I’m about to protest, to tell him I know it was the grave. But maybe he’s right. It was pitch black. I could have been anywhere. It could have been any lump of dirt.
“But the mushrooms, the Excandesco,” I tell him. “I saw them glow.”
“They do glow at night, faintly, but especially when disturbed. But they aren’t that rare. I’m sure we will find some on our trip—” He eyes the clock. “In four hours.”
I know this is the right time to say hey thanks for the tea and company and head back to my room to try and get some sleep, but I’m not leaving. I feel undone and unfulfilled.
“Then how did I end up in the forest?”
“My honest opinion is that you were sleepwalking. Just like with your nosebleeds, you’re reverting back to when you were younger. Regression is common under high stress situations. It can also show up as hallucinations. We talked about this at the beginning, how even feeling an affinity to Amani in such an isolated, lonely place can make our brains latch on. And you’ve said yourself that you weren’t in a healthy place mentally before you came here.”