Page 111 of Hidden
“I’m not an idiot!” Caleb protested.
My fury faded, and I sighed. I couldn’t stay annoyed with someone who was clearly posturing. Being an empath had a way of making it difficult to separate yourself from the situation.
Why was I here? She’d still never told me. I was supposed to be on my way to Geology. I’d missed so much just missing one week, I wasn’t sure how I’d ever catch up.
I was so stressed, even the pink-sweet décor and heavy peppermint scent that lingered over the room threatened to make me puke. And I liked pink and peppermint.
“Did you ask me here to confirm Mr. Weaver was haunting you, or…” I was too mentally exhausted to care much aboutwhyhe was sticking around Ms. Protean. That was his business. “Why are you asking me? I’m sure you know Dr. Stephens sees ghosts, you’re coworkers and they are brothers. Why didn’t you ask for his help?”
Her elbow slipped, and she jerked upright into her chair. Redness brightened her weathered cheeks. “You want me to askGregory?” Her usually even voice squeaked. “No, thank you.”
“Oh, here we go.” Mr. Weaver groaned into his hands.
“I haven’t spoken to him in a half-century, and will not start today. I have no intention of revisiting that old flame.” With jerky movements, she snatched her knitting supplies from her desk drawer and spread them over her lap. “Yet he still watches me with that same disturbing dewy-eyed stare. It sends shivers through me.”
Shivers? What kind of shivers? Was it a good thing, or bad?
I pressed my lips together, slowly looking between Mr. Weaver and Ms. Protean. He seemed almost mournful, and she was clearly flustered.
I was missing something.
The chagrin had completely faded from the ghost’s expression as he watched the woman. And Ms. Protean, well… She had begun knitting with an intensity that was almost terrifying. It was as if she was trying to violently maim the sweater she was working on.
Could it be true? Had my original analysis of Mr. Weaver’s death been correct? Or rather, partially so. Hehadbeen killed because of Daniel Cole’s interference. But I did also surmise he and Dr. Stephens had been in love with the same woman.
I couldn’t ignore what Finn had told me: I was a genius, and foresaw the future.
It explained so much.
Ghosts didn’t linger anywhere there weren’t strong emotional ties. And Ms. Protean did appear to be very angry at Dr. Stephens.
Were they ex-lovers? Was it possiblebothbrothers had been involved with Ms. Protean? Could that be why they hated each other?
“Is there something on your mind?” Ms. Protean interrupted my thoughts, her expression returning her usual mildly-fascinated, and somewhat agitated, state. I was beginning to think this was her everyday expression.
What did they call it: resting bitch face?
It was actually more frightening on an old woman than a younger one. What had I been thinking? She was the least-grandmotherly figure I’d ever seen—her hobbies and style not-withstanding.
I was certain she’d have no hesitations about shifting and ripping out people’s throats if she was angry enough.
“You’ve been standing there with your mouth open for a while now. Come sit down, you’re making me nervous,” she commanded.
“Um…” My thoughts raced as I settled into the chair across from her desk. It wasn’t like I could ask her about her romantic entanglements. She was probably a hundred. There was no way she’d had a scandalous affair in her youth. People in those days were known for their wholesome family values and well-behaved women.
It was one thing to press boundaries in the professional world. But anything else was unheard of.
“How are your classes going?” Ms. Protean raised her eyebrow, needles clicking together as she worked her craft.
Her question snapped me back to my earlier concern, and the feeling that had been following me around all day intensified. With the subject changed, my hands clenched into fists in my lap. “I don’t think I can finish the semester. People are giggling at Bryce, and I’ve seen them looking at me. Plus, I wanted to drop French to take Chinese. I can’t concentrate…”
I felt so stupid. Here I was, admitting my failures to a woman who’d made a name for herself in this school. She’d never understand.
“Why are people giggling at Bryce?” Mr. Weaver asked.
But I didn’t respond, since Ms. Protean started speaking. “Don’t waste your time and effort on something you’re not interested in.”
I bit my lip, touching my fingers together, choosing, for the moment, to ignore Mr. Weaver. It was difficult to carry on two conversations at once, especially when one party couldn’t join in. “But Iaminterested in Botany.”
