Page 9 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
He leans in, his head low enough to speak for only me. “You aren’t new,” he says softly.
My eyes widen, and my pulse races. It’s the first time all day I’ve felt out of control. What can he mean? I turn to face him, brows furrowing.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, head tilting to the side. “Do I know you?”
“No…” He draws away. “But I have seen you at the library. I worked there over the summer.”
The explanation brings me little comfort.
“That means you aren’t new either,” I say.
“Correct. I moved here two years ago.”
“Well…” My jaw tightens. How much should I hold back? “You’re right, I’m not new to Castine. I was raised here… but I’m new to the school. Not that it matters.”
He’s wasting my time.
I’ll admit—I hadn’t been paying attention to the speech. I turn away now, giving the professor my attention for the first time.
“It does matter,” he says. “I was under the impression you were sneaking into orientation. That would have been highly concerning.”
Fuck. He doesn’t know—there’s no way for him to—but he’s closer to the truth than he realizes. I try not to panic—to not let it show on my face.
“Well, I’m not,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “And you don’t own the library! I’ve been visiting since I was a kid.You’rethe new one here.”
Castine is a moderately sized town—at least, for a state that’s full of small towns. It’s nowhere as populated as Portland, but I don’t know everyone. Not even close. Half thepeople in Strode evacuate for the winter, and the other half leave in the summer. That means this man is an interesting case.
But I worry he’s taking an interest in me, too.
It feels like we’re dancing around each other. I’m breathless and riddled with nerves. I don’t have time for this game.
“Oh, to live one’s entire life in Castine…” He hums. “I’m not sure I could handle it.”
Do Iwantto live in Castine forever? Of course not, but some strange visitor talking down on the town doesn’t sit right with me.
“You would beluckyto have a permanent place here,” I say.
His piercing gaze lingers on me for a long moment.
“The winters,” he says, by way of explanation. “I’m not sure how long I can handle the cold. Eventually, my bones will grow weary.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” I say without looking at him. “You seem like the type to travel around with no concern for others, so… I’m sure you’ll continue to do that.”
A guess, based on him being new in town.
I make a note of the facts, even small ones. If he’s been in town for two years, he could be connected to Poppy’s disappearance—more than the eight other freshmen surrounding us.
Or maybe he’s not, but… I’m curious about him. It unsettles me.
“You are quick to assume the type of person I am.” He sighs. “What does this conversation say about the kind of personyouare? Are you this rude to everyone?”
“Yes.” I grind my teeth.
“That’s good to know. I wouldn’t want anyspecial treatment.”
I don’t respond and, to my relief, he allows the quiet to take over. The crowd thins, the professor bids farewell, and I am free of this man…
Until I hear footsteps coming from behind. I glance down at the map, brow furrowed as I navigate to my first class.
