Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 377(@300wpm)
“I was just telling Sydney she’s not late. She’s perfectly on time,” he says as I fight the urge to wipe my palm against my jeans.
“Of course, of course!” Michelle exclaims loudly. “No, you’re not late at all. Right on time, right on time. So nice to finally meet you.”
“Did you already check Amani in?” I ask her.
Michelle frowns for a moment and exchanges a confused glance with David before she goes, “Oh, Amani. Yes. With the headscarf.”
“Hijab,” I correct her.
“Yes, hijab.” She nods vigorously, smiling again. “Yes. Of course. Yup. She went straight to her room. Would you like to do the same? The stewards will bring your bags. Or David can take you right to the learning center and get you introduced to all the other students and the—”
“Before we do that,” David interjects, “it’s time that Sydney hands over her phone.”
“Of course,” Michelle says, her cheeks going pink. She gives me an anxious look. “Sorry, dear, I know it’s a painful process.”
She holds out her hand expectantly.
I sigh and fish my phone out of my jacket. I tap the screen once just so I can see the wallpaper of my grandmother’s smiling face one last time. But when I do so, something isn’t right about the screen. Before it has time to register, Michelle has taken my phone from me.
“Wait, can I see that again?” I say, trying to take it back.
“Sorry,” she says, letting out a nervous laugh as she quickly slips it into her back pocket. “I know it’s hard, but you’ll get used to it. Everyone says they appreciate talking on the phone and the landline so much more. You’ll look forward to your Friday nights. And of course, there’s—”
David clears his throat, cutting her off. “Now that the hard part is done, let me show you to your room,” he says to me, putting his hand at my back briefly before giving Michelle a curt nod. “Thank you, Michelle.”
“Yes. Of course,” she says before she scurries back into her office.
Yet I can’t stop thinking about my phone. About what should have been a picture of my grandmother, about a year before she died. It was one of the harder days, when Alzheimer’s had taken over her nearly completely, but suddenly she remembered who I was. She looked at me and smiled. “Sydney,” she had said, with so much love it broke me. It was so beautiful and pure and real. I’d taken a picture of that moment. That’s been my wallpaper ever since.
But when I tapped on the screen, for that brief second, that’s not the picture I saw. It was a different picture of my grandmother taken earlier that same day. In that picture, she was angry and confused, staring right at the camera, wanting me to leave.
A warning.
CHAPTER 2
“This is where all your fellow students will be living,” David says as we step onto the second floor landing. It’s dark, despite it being daytime, with only a few sconces along the wood walls that emit a dim light along the hallway, six doors on either side with a couple at the very end. There’s a creepy aspect here that I didn’t expect, though it may have something to do with how unnerved I feel about my grandmother’s photo.
You’re imagining things, I tell myself. You know it didn’t change. And even if it did, you probably selected that other picture by accident.
“And your room is right here,” he says, pointing at the door right beside the stairs. A wooden plaque reads “Room One” in cursive above a carving of a madrona tree. “Showers are at the very end of the hall. There’s also a shower in the floating lab for those who’ve been diving. Each room has its own sink and toilet though.”
He takes out a pair of old-fashioned-looking keys, like the kind you see in a Gothic film, takes one off the ring, and hands it to me. “I know,” he says, noting the wry look on my face, “but these rooms used to be for the cannery workers—why change the keys?”
I clear my throat, palming the key. “But you get to keep the other one?” I ask.
“We don’t ever enter our students’ rooms without their permission,” he says with a slight smile. “But since keys are easy to lose, we like to hold on to one for safekeeping. Don’t worry, when it comes to lab access, you’ll have your own coded key card. We at least upped the tech in that department.”
I should hope so, I think, taking the key and inserting it into the lock. It turns with a click that I find very satisfying.
I open the door and step inside. The room is small but cozy with a window overlooking a giant cedar, with glimpses of other buildings through the branches. On the walls, there’s an oil painting of a starfish in a tidal pool on one side, a raven on a hemlock branch on the other. A large oak armoire sits across from a double bed with an embroidered red-and-black throw on top.