A Game Most Foul, page 12
“I think it does,” Suruthi agreed. “What d’you think, Perce?”
Percy looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and he was still a little flushed by the time he managed to school his expression. “I think you look . . . very nice, Jules.”
Suruthi did a poor job of choking back a laugh. “I was asking about the color of the hearing aids, Percy, not whether Jules looks nice. Which you do, by the way,” she added, nudging me with her elbow. “A real looker, isn’t she, Percy?”
He didn’t answer this time around.
“Thanks, I guess,” I said. It came out more like a question.
It would probably be a waste of time trying to figure out what that whole exchange was supposed to have meant—I looked very nice—so I left it there.
We lapsed into silence then, sitting on the floor in the hallway, and without a single clue as to what we were supposed to do now that Professor Watson was just suddenly not showing up to class.
Beyond that, Ashley had been gone several days now and the jury was still out on whether we were going to be hearing much from the police after being questioned. Even if Suruthi was letting her love of true crime and mysteries cloud her vision, Percy was going to have to admit it sooner or later—Something odd was going on here. And I really wanted to figure out what it was.
“You know, when I imagined what this seminar was going to be like, this wasn’t what I had in mind,” I said, ending the silence.
“Likewise,” Suruthi said while Percy hummed in agreement.
“What a memorable first trip overseas this is turning out to be for you,” Percy added ruefully.
“I was hoping to get past this awful rut I’ve been in, but now I think it’s worse than ever, funnily enough,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Suruthi asked curiously. “Seems to me like you’ve been doing pretty well so far. How many pages have you got in your manuscript now?”
I had to think about that.
“If we’re not counting all the pointless outlines or notes that make absolutely no sense, then maybe . . . five?”
Percy looked startled. “But—you submitted an outline to the professor, didn’t you?”
The unintentional laugh that escaped was a disparaging one. “Yeah, and it was a load of crap,” I said. “Professor Watson had a field day marking that thing up with his red pen. I should show you sometime.”
“If it’s any consolation,” Suruthi said after a moment, “mine wasn’t any better. Professor Watson told me that I should spend less time blathering on about the unimportant and stick to the facts. Apparently, I let my own opinion cloud my writing too much.”
“Well, the professor told me that I need more passion and intrigue in my writing,” I said, pulling a smile.
We looked over at Percy next.
“What?” he said defensively. “The professor was perfectly pleasant with his review of my outline, thank you.”
Suruthi arched one eyebrow, and that was all it took to make Percy crack.
“Alright, so he did say that I was a little too . . . long-winded,” he admitted, refusing to make eye contact. “That I shouldn’t spend so much time on world building and that I need to focus on character development as well.”
“Ah, there it is.” Suruthi sighed, closing her eyes as she placed a hand over her chest.
“What?” Percy demanded crossly. “There what is?”
“Proof that Percy Bysshe Byers really is human like the rest of us. I’m going to savor this moment forever.”
Percy turned an offended look on me when I cracked up laughing, unable to keep it back.
“Sorry, sorry, I don’t mean it,” I got out through the unintentional laughing fit. “I have this really bad habit of laughing at inappropriate times.”
This had Suruthi busting up laughing too.
“Yes, alright, thank you. I realize the humor in it,” Percy allowed with a small smile of his own. “I never said I was an otherworldly writer though. None of us are.”
“Except for maybe Thierry,” Suruthi said, smirking. “Per his own account, of course.”
“At least one of us is,” I said, leaning my head back against the wall, blowing out a sigh. Now that my laughing fit was over, I was left feeling exhausted. “It’s an honest miracle I got into this seminar and now I’m not even sure I can hack it.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a little too hard on yourself?” Suruthi said, nudging me again. “Percy’s not wrong; we’re all amateurs. We came here to get better at writing. Of course we’re not going to be perfect at it.”
“Yeah, sure, but I used to be able to sit down and write at least a dozen pages in one go, and now I can barely get out one.” I was starting to sound a lot like I was complaining, but I suddenly couldn’t stop. “Writing was the one thing I was able to do without even having to think about it and now it’s like pulling teeth, I swear. It has been for the last year. I told you, Percy, my submission piece for the seminar was something I wrote ages ago, not recently. Writing was the one thing I felt like I had any sort of control over in my life, but now I don’t even have that anymore, just like my stupid hearing.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction I was supposed to expect from Percy and Suruthi after that confession. It would’ve been hard to swallow if there had been pity in their gazes, and it probably wouldn’t have helped either if they’d tried to tell me I was wrong in some way.
“Oh, Jules.” Suruthi sighed, slumping over to rest her head on my shoulder. “You really should give yourself some grace.”
“I’m only saying I—”
“I think Suruthi’s right,” Percy said suddenly, catching us off guard. “You are being too hard on yourself. You haven’t really given yourself time to grieve.”
“Excuse me?” I said, completely stunned. “What do I have to grieve for?”
Percy debated his answer as he picked at a thread on his pant leg. “What you used to have. In this case, the way you used to write. Your hearing.”
I began to realize at once just how much sense Percy was making.
It had been a gradual thing, but quick; in a matter of months I’d developed such a severe hearing loss that my doctor and the audiologist I’d been seeing still weren’t sure why it had happened. Something sensorineural was a likely cause, but I’d put a lot of effort into blocking it all out.
A part of myself hadn’t wanted to understand it, because in the end, what did it matter? It still wouldn’t have changed the outcome. I would still have hearing loss, regardless of the cause.
“That makes a lot of sense,” I said. “I guess I’ve always just swept it under the rug. Not really because I’m embarrassed about it or whatever, more because I just get . . . angry with myself. That I haven’t adjusted the way I think I should have by now.”
“Adjusted how?” Percy asked. “Like with sign language?”
“No, not sign language,” I answered. “Although I have learned a bit. I mean more like how I should be used to my hearing aids by now. I’ve had them about a year now, but sometimes it’s just . . . just . . .”
“Go on,” Suruthi encouraged. “Let it out, mate.”
That was all the permission I needed.
“Sometimes it really just sucks, and it can be really, really difficult to wear them. Hearing aids don’t actually help me understand what someone is telling me, they just make everything louder. They don’t clarify the noise for me, they just amplify it. I have to work a lot harder most of the time to understand what’s being said to me and I just get, I don’t know, tired. I get tired of having to put in all that extra effort. I get tired of the look people give me when I’m having a hard time keeping up with the conversation. It’s so much easier for me to just . . . have it be kind of silent for a while, I guess.”
And the tense silence from before returned, although not nearly as depressing. I felt like I might have moved into the oversharing category, but it didn’t seem to have bothered Percy or Suruthi much.
Suruthi was grinning at me actually and reached up to pat me affectionately on the head. “Do you feel better now, Jules?”
“A bit,” I said. “It was kind of nice getting all that off my chest, to be honest.”
“Been a while, has it?”
“Actually, no.” I was starting to feel embarrassed about it, but since I was already on a roll here . . . “I’ve never shared that with anyone before.”
Suruthi put a hand over her heart again like when she’d been teasing Percy, but her smile was genuine. “I’m honored. You might think about sharing more often then.”
“As long as it stays between us,” I said, wagging a finger at her.
Suruthi gasped in mock outrage. “Whatever are you implying, Jules? I can keep a secret, thank you.”
“Maybe you should try writing about this,” Percy blurted.
“Excuse me?” I said, looking over at him again.
“If it’s not too forward of me to say,” Percy continued in a rush. “But why don’t you try writing about this? Your struggles with writing. Even your hearing, maybe. Turn it into something usable. Seems to me like you’ve got a lot of experience to draw on. That ought to give you something to work off, right?”
I was left staring open-mouthed at Percy’s little speech. It was something I’d never considered before, but maybe . . .
“Are you a shrink in your spare time, Percy?” Suruthi asked, not unkindly.
Percy gave a short laugh, sneaking an arm behind me to ruffle Suruthi’s hair. “Maybe I should consider that as a secondary career option.”
“You know, maybe you have a point, Percy,” I said later when we were walking outside into the courtyard. “Maybe I’ll give my manuscript another try from a different angle this time.”
Percy looked pleasantly flushed as he grinned down at me. “I think that’s a grand idea, Jules.”
I found myself grinning back in response and would have kept the conversation going if I hadn’t seen a flash of color behind Percy, just above his shoulder. It took a second to realize what I was looking at, and when I did, I felt a chill slip down my spine.
We were being watched by a figure peering out a second story window. I couldn’t see well enough to make out any distinct characteristics of the figure, but I knew that whoever the figure was, their gaze was fixed directly on me.
Chapter 15
The Opportune Moment
Juliet, you look horrible.”
I dropped my head back against the wall in my bedroom with a long sigh. “Mom, it’s six in the morning.” I’d also gotten maybe two hours of sleep last night, tops. “Of course I look horrible.”
“Well, indulge your mother in a conversation, would you?” my mom said briskly. I could hear shuffling papers in the background even though it was ten o’clock in the evening—burning the midnight oil in her home office then. “You didn’t answer any of my texts yesterday.”
Telling my mother the real reason why wouldn’t have gone over well, so I settled instead for, “Yeah, I’m sorry, Mom. I got caught up editing the first bit of my manuscript.”
Well, rewriting would’ve been the more appropriate word, but the specifics didn’t matter so much.
“It’s been a little hectic and . . . stuff,” I continued lamely. “But I’m doing well. Really well, I promise. Adele’s having me help in the shop more and I’ve gotten to hang out with Suruthi and Percy—the two from my class I was telling you about earlier?”
These half-truths were sort of keeping the feeling of guilt at bay. Maybe they weren’t outright lies, but it still felt an awful lot like I was being dishonest, and I couldn’t really see any other way around it. God only knew what had transpired between Adele and my mom during the private half hour conversation they’d had over the weekend, where Adele had somehow managed to convince my mom to let me stay, so I wasn’t about to push my luck any further.
“Stuff, huh?” My mom had one eyebrow raised as she started flipping through a green legal pad full of notes. “Elaborate, please.”
“Oh, you know,” I said, clearing my throat. “If I’m not in class, I’m writing or spending time with Adele and a bunch of antiques.”
I spent the next few moments spinning a few tales about the adventures in writing I’d had with Percy and Suruthi lately. I wasn’t sure if I’d managed to convince her of anything by the time I ended the call, but we’d at least avoided the topic of Ashley’s disappearance—for now.
I dragged myself out of bed and padded my way down the hallway into the kitchen where Adele was seated at the table in the small nook, a book and a cup of tea before her, like every other morning since I’d first arrived in London.
“There’s a fresh coffee on the counter for you,” she said, looking up with a smile. “I heard you on the phone with your mother,” she added at my confused look.
“Oh. Thanks, Adele.”
I joined her at the table with my coffee and we sat in silence for a bit while she read, and I sipped at my drink.
“So,” Adele said when I returned to the table with a refill of coffee. She’d set aside her book and was drinking from her teacup. “How’s class been this week so far?”
“Weird,” I said immediately.
It was the only adjective that made sense: weird. Bizarre might’ve also worked in this context too.
“Weird,” Adele repeated. “Weird in what way?”
“Weird in the way that one of my classmates is still missing and we have no idea what happened?” I said helplessly. “I don’t know, Adele. The professor doesn’t seem to be handling the whole thing very well.”
Adele frowned, and took her next sip of tea through pursed lips. “You know, Jules, I’m sure we could still arrange for you to go back to—”
“I’m okay to finish the seminar, honestly,” I said quickly, trying to stop her before she could finish her sentence. “Everything being weird, it’s not bad. It’s just weird, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle, I promise. I’m not about to waste this trip to London.”
Adele’s expression turned thoughtful as she sipped more tea. “I think you’ve far from wasted this trip, Jules. Based on what you’ve told me, I imagine you’ll still be in touch with Percy and Suruthi long after the seminar’s over.”
“You might be right,” I agreed. If the heart-to-heart we’d had yesterday sitting on the floor in the hallway of Chatham Hall was anything to go by, I’d already found myself with two very good friends. “At any rate, I’ll be excited to see what happens next . . . I think.”
I finished my second cup of coffee while Adele drank the rest of her tea, then dragged myself off to the bathroom to get ready for the day. I’d checked the email app on my phone about a dozen times once I’d showered, dressed, and attempted to do something presentable with my hair and a bit of makeup.
I spent most of the journey to Chatham Hall wondering what surprise might be waiting for us in the classroom this morning—if Professor Watson even showed up. Maybe yesterday had just been a fluke. For all we knew, the professor could’ve had some twenty-four-hour bug and hadn’t been able to send out a mass email cancelling class.
I’d almost had myself convinced we’d all but imagined yesterday’s unusual events by the time I was inside Chatham Hall and walking up the stairs to the classroom. When I didn’t see Thierry camping in the hallway outside the door, I figured it was a good sign.
Some of the tension I felt in my body started to ebb when I heard quiet conversation as I neared Room 217. Peeking inside just to be sure, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Percy and Thierry in their normal spots in the circle of armchairs and couch along with Professor Watson.
I nearly tripped over my feet on my way inside when I got a better look at the professor. It was almost like looking at another person occupying the same armchair. Compared to the other day, Professor Watson was an entirely new person; he was clean-shaven, hair neatly combed, dressed smartly, just like every other day since the start of the seminar.
This was a good thing then. Right? Professor Watson was obviously doing better now.
“Ah, good morning, Miss Montgomery,” Professor Watson said, nodding politely when I entered the classroom. “I trust you’re well.”
“Yep,” I answered quickly. “I’m peachy.” I’d taken my seat next to Percy on the couch before I decided to just ask the burning question we were all probably dying to know. “And yourself, Professor? Are you . . . well?”
“I’m faring much better this morning, fortunately,” Professor Watson answered breezily. “I’m afraid I was under the weather yesterday and I apologize I was not able to contact you and your peers to cancel class. Thank you for asking, Miss Montgomery.”
Professor Watson’s tone of voice had been perfectly pleasant, but it was the way he had averted his gaze to the journal in his lap as he spoke that was a little odd.
I snuck a curious glance toward Percy to see if he’d noticed the same thing, but he was caught up jotting something down in his own notebook.
It was mostly quiet until Suruthi came barreling into the room, firing off a rapid stream of apologies. She managed to conceal her shock at seeing Professor Watson looking so put together this morning and took her seat beside me, shooting me a look with raised eyebrows.
“Quite alright, Miss Kaur,” Professor Watson said breezily. “Still two minutes to spare. Shall we begin?”
We got straight down to business like we were pulling overtime for having missed yesterday’s class.
Professor Watson pulled out a packet of papers from a folder he’d gotten up to retrieve from his desk. “I’ve prepared passages for each of you from well-known pieces of literature loosely based on the topics of your manuscripts. I would like you to take the time to rewrite these in your own voice, using the characters you have developed thus far. I suspect this will take you some time, so no need to watch the clock.”
Okay, this exercise I could handle. I’d done something similar in my last creative writing class, so I could do this no problem. At least I thought so until I saw what neatly printed passage wound up in my lap.
