Where Silence Gathers (Some Quiet Place #2)(7)

“Essay … ” I repeat with a sinking sensation in my stomach. “I completely forgot.”

Georgie eyes me. “What’s going on with you lately?” Her expression changes and she grabs my arm. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!”

Grateful to avoid explanations, I indulge her. “What?” We all start to walk toward the library.

“Billy and his friends were down by the mines the other night and they heard moans coming from the tunnels. Pretty freaky, right? Maybe the ghost of Sammy Thorn really does exist.” Georgie doesn’t try to hide how thrilling she finds this.

Briana responds, her tone solemn, but I don’t hear what she says. I’m thinking of the Sammy Thorn legend, a bedtime tale for wayward children. Decades ago, little kids were disappearing from their beds. It became a national issue, and Franklin turned into a place of closed curtains and locked doors. Somehow it was discovered that a miner called Sammy Thorn was the culprit, but only one of the children was found when they searched his house. Thorn was chased into the mines and never seen again. Things went back to normal in our town, and so many years passed that people began to feel safe again. Thorn became a story.

Mid-sentence, Georgie turns to me again. “Don’t think you’re off the hook, by the way,” she adds.

They’re both staring at me, waiting, and I falter. “There’s nothing to tell. Personally, I’m more interested in finding out if Briana finally asked Rachel Porter out.”

At this, Georgie scoffs. She doesn’t give Briana a chance to respond. “Of course not. She’s too much a chicken. Now, spill. How did the birthday dinner go? Were they mad about the piercing?”

Damn it. “Uh, well, I—”

Alexandra.

I freeze, forgetting how to breathe. All the nerve endings in my body flare to life. This isn’t like it was last night, some faint whisper in the distance. It sounds close, right in my ear. I lean against a locker to steady myself. What’s happening to me?

My friends are staring. Even Revenge. “Did you hear anything?” I demand, still breathless.

Briana puts her hand on my arm, and an Emotion presses close to her. I don’t let myself look up; her concern only makes things worse. Am I going crazy?

“I have to go,” I say, taking a step back. Then another. My glance flicks to Revenge. He’s frowning. For the first time, he doesn’t understand me.

Something has started, and I’m a leaf in a current, helpless against it. I turn away from them and face the light pouring through the front doors. I think of Nate Foster and empty rum bottles and mysterious strangers wearing white.

Georgie swears. “Is she high or something? Alex? Alex!”

I run.





THREE


“Shouldn’t you be in class?”

I turn away from the bookshelf and meet Andrew’s concerned gaze. In case there was any doubt about what he’s feeling, Worry stands beside him. I’m sick to death of this particular Emotion. He ignores me, and I ignore him as I say to Andrew, “They cancelled school today. A meteor fell and destroyed all the classrooms.”

What I don’t say is, Oh, I think I might be losing my mind, and I can’t be in Franklin right now.

My godfather, who was my father’s best friend, sighs and lowers himself into the chair behind the desk. His glasses flash in the weak lamplight. “You need a diploma, young lady. Life will be much more difficult without it.”

Despite knowing how much he hates it when I touch his things—I’ve never been to his office before, but I’ve been to his house a hundred times—I pick up a plaque in front of him and read the engraved words: PROFESSOR ANDREW LOMENTA. I drove over an hour to get to Green River Community College.

“Life, difficult? How so?” I ask flatly, putting the plaque down.

Worry’s body gives a particularly odd twitch. It draws my attention to him, and as I watch he flickers again, like a channel with bad reception. I frown. It takes me a moment to remember what’s happening and how Revenge once explained it: Beings from the other plane are able to be in multiple places at once. In order to address each and every summons, they do what Worry is doing right now—create another copy of themselves to send.

After another moment, Worry vanishes completely, his summons from me answered. Yet his effect lives on.

Andrew purses his lips and leans forward, imploring me with both his expression and his words. He can’t resist readjusting the plaque so that it’s exactly where it was before. His fingers are long and elegant. “Well, what about college? You want to go to college, right?”

I swing away and stroll along the edge of his office, feigning interest in the wall of books again. “Is that a trick question?”

“Missy asked me if I gave you a recommendation. She thinks you applied.”

Anger appears and lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. I resist the urge to shake him off. His touch burns, right through my skin and into my bones. Just when I think I can’t take another second, he vanishes.

Andrew types something on his computer while I struggle to respond, but I’m clenching my jaw so tightly it’s nearly impossible to get anything out. “Can we not talk about my aunt, please?” I say finally.

Another sigh. Andrew always gives in eventually. “Fine, Alex. You can hang out here for a while. But promise me you’ll go back for your afternoon classes, okay?”