Page 18 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
There’s nothing helpful, and I need to leave before my lingering becomes suspicious.
The investigators usher us away. I allow it, incapable of fighting the swarming crowd.
After walking a few steps, I stop. A golden glint catches my eye.
I try to make it subtle as I bend over, picking up the mysterious item.
A pocket watch? I stare at the item, head tilted to the side. It’s a pretty antique thing, made of heavy gold, cool and slightly damp to the touch. Not blood, thank God, but water fromthe sprinklers.
I turn it over in my hand. There are two letters etched on the back:B.C.
Who is B.C?
Under my touch, the watch becomes scalding. I nearly drop it.
“Evacuate the area!” a voice yells, bringing me back to reality.
I throw the ticking item into my pocket and stand, scrambling away from the scene.
I found something! It may be nothing, but it’s more than I had before. I’m on cloud nine as I leave.
I’m so high in the clouds that I don’t realize who’s standing in front of me until I bump into them. My head collides with someone’s chest, and I let out a yelp, holding their arms to keep myself steady.
“Sorry!” I say.
Of course, it’s Caldwell. I was hoping not to see him at all, much less like this.
His eyes narrow. “You again?”
The simple words are enough to make me roll my eyes.
Of course, he’s here. It isn’t suspicious—right? Everyone is here.
If he did something wrong, he wouldn’t stick around to taunt me.
As much as I long to push him away, curiosity keeps me glued in place.
The watch in my pocket is heavier as I look at him. I match the narrowing of his eyes, fixing him with a glare.
“Yes, it’sme again. I do go to school here, you know.” I cross my arms and storm off.
“Wait!” I don’t need to turn around to know he’s following behind, easily falling into step. “Are you all right? No one should have to see that.”
“I’m not the only person who saw it.” I shudder at thereminder of the body. “And I’m fine, though I think it’s funny that you’re the only one showing concern.”
A professor is there to escort us to our dorms, but aside from that, there is no fanfare. No one seems worried.
“Let me walk you to your dorm,” he says.
“What is it with you offering to walk me places?” I gesture to the professor. “We already have an escort. Shouldn’t you go toyourdormitory?”
“Probably.” But he continues to linger. “I can’t go until you give me what you have in your pocket.”
I nearly stop in my tracks. The item is more than heavy now—it is an anchor. It’s as if the watch itself is asking for release, trying to tear its way out of my pocket.
I ignore the feeling, my head held high. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“My watch,” he says. “I dropped it, and you picked it up. It’s a family heirloom.”
