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)
“Oh, don’t worry about me,” he says. “I rarely sleep. The mind, you know.” He taps the side of it. “It doesn’t stop.”
“I hear you on that.”
He gives me a small smile, but it only makes me uneasy. He leans forward on his elbows and stares at me. Doesn’t say anything else, just stares.
And me, well, I’ve never met a silence I can’t bluster my way through.
“Really lovely home you have here,” I say, looking around, though I’m not really seeing anything. He’s still staring at me, and it’s starting to make me nervous. When is Everly coming back?
“How long have you lived here for?” I ask for the sake of asking. “Do you have like a normal house somewhere else? I imagine you do.”
He leans back in his chair, brow raised. “I’m not here as often as my wife. I am here when there is important work going on. Otherwise, you’ll find me in Carmel. Carmel-by-the-sea. Have you ever been?”
“No,” I tell him.
“But you’re a Northern California girl. That surprises me.”
How did he know where I was from? I guess Everly told him.
“Carmel is a rich area. I grew up poor,” I say bluntly, just to see him squirm a bit.
He does no such thing. “Is that so? What a tragedy that is.”
I shrug awkwardly. “It wasn’t so bad. I had a nice grandmother.”
“And your father, who died at sea,” he says with a sigh.
My muscles tense. I give him a sharp look. “How did you know that?”
“I know everything about every student.” He gives me a tight smile. “So much information in my brain, sometimes I get confused between who is who over the years. But yes, Sydney Denik, I know all about Sydney Denik. So much terrible loss. You must wonder why death is so fixated on you.”
Okay, I really need Everly to come back now.
“I just chalk it up to bad fucking luck,” I say, an edge to my voice warning him to stop talking.
He chuckles. It’s an empty sound. “I see. Yes. Bad luck. That I can agree with. You are a woman of bad luck. And yet, you’re also a miracle. You’re here. You’re one of the few who get to experience the foundation at its most raw state. You’re getting a glimpse behind the curtain, passage beyond the velvet rope. You’re going to set an example for the years to come.”
“An example of what?” I ask.
But he only grins at me, his teeth very white, his eyes terribly unkind.
I don’t want to be alone with this man.
Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Everly steps inside with David Chen in tow.
“Sydney,” David says as I jump to my feet, so happy to leave. “Everly told me what happened. We went ahead and checked it out for you. There was no one in your room.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. There was. I know there was. I couldn’t get in!”
“We believe you,” Everly says, placing the key in my hand. “I think someone was playing a prank. But they knew they would be found out. They left before they could get in trouble.” She lowers her voice, peering at me. “Do you know who it could have been?”
I want to tell her it’s Clayton, and after my session with Kincaid, I feel like that’s what she expects me to say. But I don’t know if it was him or not. He’s already so erratic I don’t want to involve him if it wasn’t.
“I have no idea,” I tell her. I can tell she doesn’t believe me.
“Well, it sounded like a harmless prank,” Michael says. “Glad that all got sorted. I’m going to bed now. Nice meeting you, Syd.”
He saunters off, and I look back at David and Everly. “So there really wasn’t anyone there?”
No ghost standing in the corner, facing the wall Blair Witch style?
“No,” David says. “And the key was back in the lock, on the inside, but it wasn’t turned. Students do pranks sometimes, but I can understand why it would have been upsetting.”
“Come on, I’ll take you back,” Everly says, guiding me to the door.
We step out into the fog, David leaving us to go check on the generators. Everly doesn’t say much as we walk, pine needles crunching beneath our feet as she takes me along the tree-lined path behind the lodge instead of the boardwalk.
“I’m sorry for waking you up,” I tell her.
She shoots me a soft smile, barely visible in the darkness. “I told you to. Day or night. I’m glad you did, otherwise you’d be sleeping in the hall. Or worse, having a fight with a fellow student. That’s the last thing you need while you’re here.”
I swallow thickly and nod. “Yeah.”
“I was meaning to talk to you anyway,” she says.
“Oh, what about?”
“I got a phone call from Stanford.”