Wicked Games by Vivian Wood & Amelia Wilde

Author:Vivian Wood & Amelia Wilde [Wood, Vivian & Wilde, Amelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-04T04:00:00+00:00

26

Emily

With my arms full of books, I walk down the hall in the language arts building, listing off the things I have to do before I can go to the Halloween party. For each class, I’ve gathered quite a lengthy list of to-do items.

I have to read three short stories for my writing class and prepare notes on them.

I have to make flashcards of different lipids and proteins for biochemistry and memorize them.

My finite mathematics class has a little homework, which is so easy it shouldn’t be a problem.

But my classics class is another matter. We are supposed to be doing a paper on an assigned person. But I have several questions about blah, who I’m supposed to be writing about. I’m planning to send Professor Napier an email clarifying a few things.

And while I’m at it, I have a few questions for the Henry David Thoreau scholarship judges too. Like… I can still win if I uncover a crime, can’t I? Not that it would stop me digging around, but I want to be thorough.

I start composing the email I will send them as I head down the steps. I’m not looking where I’m going though, so of course I run headlong into Dr. Napier as she’s coming up the stone steps. I manage not to fall, but I drop my books everywhere. Dr. Napier is a little more graceful than I am, so she just brushes off her prim gray dress and gives me a baleful look.

“I’m so sorry!” I rush to apologize. “I’m such a klutz.”

“It’s not a problem,” she says, although her tone suggests otherwise. My cheeks go pink.

“Sorry, I was just trying to compose an email in my head.” I try to explain myself as I collect my books and stand up. “I’m trying to figure out if there was a crime committed for a story I’m working on.”

Her brows rise slightly. “A crime?”

I fidget a little. “Yes. I’m digging into the death of a Campbell student. Maybe you knew him? His name was Asher Radcliffe.”

Dr. Napier’s brows knit. “Oh yes. Well, I wouldn’t say I knew him. But I remember his passing. The whole campus mourned.”

She tucks her neat blonde hair behind her ear, checking her watch. My cheeks stain with color again. I am taking up my professor’s time needlessly.

Clearing my throat, I smile weakly. “I’m sure you’re busy. I have a couple of questions for you about the assignment—”

“Can you just email them to me?” Dr. Napier cuts me off, smiling gently. “I’m late for a meeting.”

“Yes! Of course.”

“Great. Have a nice day, Emily.”

She remembers my name. I stand back, letting her pass. I call out, “You too, professor!”

The door closes on whatever response she might have returned.

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