The professor sat on the edge of the table at the front of the class, looking around as the last of the students filed in and filled the few remaining seats.
“Let’s get started, shall we,” said Pretend-Mead.
He stood and paced across the front of the classroom. He held a large, open cup of coffee from the campus coffee shop in his hand. Steam rose, the scent of fresh brewed java easily reaching the front row where I sat. It made me wish I stopped off for a third latte on the way to class.
Pretend-Mead spun on his heel and began to cross the floor once more. He veered. He was going to pass close by my desk. What was he planning? Suddenly he stumbled, or appeared to. His arm shot out, hurling the coffee out of the cup and straight at me.
The students who were paying attention gasped, and I barely had time to flinch before Pretend-Mead began to howl in pain. I looked up to see him covered in the coffee he’d meant for me.
He cursed several times, then hurried out of the room.
The class was silent, either wondering how the laws of physics could explain what they just saw, or wondering what it was they missed out on.
“He did that intentionally!” sputtered Delia. “He was trying to spill that on you! The jerk, it serves him right!”
“Yeah, I doubt he’ll try that again,” I said, still a little stunned.
The guy was a jerk, but I was afraid that testing a theory was the heavier motivator behind his attempt to scald me.
Everyone was talking now, either asking what happened or trying to explain one of about fifty different versions of it.
“How long do we wait before we can give up on him coming back?” asked a nearby student.
“I don’t know… fifteen minutes?” suggested another.
“Forget that,” said a third student. “The question is, can we get out of here before he makes it back! We were here on time, it’s not our fault the guy’s a klutz and dumped coffee all over himself, then jetted out of here.”
That student jumped up and was out the door, leading most of the rest of the class in a stampede for freedom.
“What are you going to do?” asked Delia uncertainly.
“I don’t know…” I said.
I was torn. I wasn’t likely to have another chance at this guy until next week’s class, but was he coming back? I’d rather go spend time with Miles than wait around here, if he wasn’t.
Several more students gave up and left.
“I… think I’m going to go too,” said Delia hesitantly.
I’m sure she wondered why I wasn’t.
“Okay, Delia. I’ll see you later,” I said.
Delia still looked unsure, but she left along with a few more students.
I looked around at what remained of the class. If Pretend-Mead came back… Xander and I might get some good questions in. It might be easier with fewer students.
“Ah, I had a feeling a few faithful would remain behind,” said Pretend-Mead cheerfully, as he breezed back into the room.
He must live close to campus, he’d changed out of his coffee-soaked clothing. He was acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He perched on the edge of the table and smiled.
“Let’s get to know each other a little better, shall we?” Pretend-Mead said, and clapped his hands together. “I’m going to ask a question, and I want each of you to answer.”
Pretend-Mead paused, and motioned behind me.
“You have something you want to say?”
“Yeah,” said Xander. “So you’ll answer our questions too, right?”
Oh my goodness. Yes!
Pretend-Mead laughed. Xander was delightful.
“Certainly. I’ll play along. So for my first question…” Pretend-Mead stood and paced. “Do you ever feel as though someone is watching out for you?”
He looked at me, but I waited.
“Let’s start with you, Mrs. Bannerman,” he said.
“Yes,” I answered.
He looked surprised.
“Is… that your answer?”
“Yes,” I said again.
“Do you know who is watching out for you?” he asked.
“That’s two questions,” I said.
“Yeah, don’t the rest of us get to answer? What is this?” said Matt, one of the guys from our study group last year.
Pretend-Mead looked at Matt and laughed. Matt was delightful.
“Yes, please! Everyone answer.”
There were eleven people left in the class. Seven said yes, and four said no.
Pretend-Mead turned his focus to me again.
“Now answer the question, Mrs. Bannerman. Who is watching out for you?”
“That’s two questions,” I said again. “I’m going to ask my first question before I answer.”
Pretend-Mead managed to look as though he wasn’t annoyed to the point of hurling another cup of hot coffee my way.
“Very well then, ask,” he said.
“How did you lose your best friend?”
He looked surprised.
“And what makes you think that I have?”
“That’s three questions,” I said. “You still haven’t answered my first one.”
Pretend-Mead looked calm except for his eyes and the pulsing vein on his forehead.
“We lost touch,” Pretend-Mead said. “One day I just never heard from him again.”
I didn’t hear a voice telling me what the truth was this time. I saw the truth, and heard it, as if I was there. I felt dizzy and disoriented, but I held on. My wedding rings flashed in the light, reminding me that Miles was close, and I felt steadier.
The classroom came into focus again. It didn’t appear as if time had passed for anyone else.
“Now answer my question,” said Pretend-Mead. “Who is watching out for you?”
“God,” I said.
Surprise, fear, and then annoyance washed over his face.
“I expected a serious answer,” said Pretend-Mead.
“That’s as serious as it gets,” I retorted.
We went around the classroom again. Four people still didn’t feel anyone was watching out for them. Three of the remaining seven answered that God was watching, two said a relative who’d died, one said they had no idea but someone was, and the remaining student talked at length about a science fiction television show he was sure was based on reality. He never did answer the question.
I immediately got back on task.
“My turn now. When’s the last time you went camping?”
“I don’t remember,” said Pretend-Mead.
False, it was August 1, 1996, the summer after he graduated from high school.
Pretend-Mead moved right into his next question.
“Has your husband exhibited any unusual abilities as a result of the brain injury that left him comatose for eleven months?”
“My husband has never had a brain injury, and he was not in a coma at all,” I said.
“You’re—it’s been heavily reported. If you’re not going to be honest, then this exercise is pointless,” said Pretend-Mead. The way he glared, you’d think I was never the least bit delightful.
“I’m telling the truth,” I said. “In the three months we’ve been married, my husband has not had a brain injury or been in a coma for eleven months.”
The rest of the class except for one, said that they too did not have a husband who’d had a brain injury that left him comatose for eleven months. The other guy was reminded of an episode of his favorite science fiction show. He had every intention of giving the class the blow by blow of every move every character made and every word they said, complete with facial expressions and nuances, but he was no longer delightful, and Pretend-Mead cut him off.
I jumped right back in.
“Where did you go camping the last time you went with your best friend?”
Pretend-Mead’s intense gaze narrowed. My own level look was unwavering. He was thinking, turning things over in his mind.
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br /> “The rest of you may go,” he said softly, holding eye contact. No one moved, so he said louder, “The rest of you may go! Class is over for today.”
Slowly the other students began to gather their things together. They had to be thinking this was the weirdest class they’d ever been in.
Xander took his time, and didn’t make it to the door until Miles was halfway to my desk.
I broke eye contact with Pretend-Mead to smile at Miles, and he smiled back.
“Hi,” I said, as I closed my laptop and stood so I could hug him. As soon as I did, the dizziness I felt to some degree or other every time Pretend-Mead lied, was now gone.
“Hi back,” Miles said, as the last of the students filed out. He picked up my books and laptop. “Looks like class is over for today. How would you like to have an early lunch?”
“I’d love that. The professor seems to want me to stay though,” I said, then looked at Pretend-Mead. “Were you planning to answer my question?”
Pretend-Mead’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. He gave Miles a long look, then turned his intense gaze back on me. “It can wait. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
Miles put his arm around me, and his eyes were filled with glimmers of steel. “If you have something to say, you might as well say it. You’re not going to get a chance to talk to Anika alone, or a better chance to talk to her at all.”
Pretend-Mead laughed sharply, probably because he didn’t know what else to do, and was buying time to decide.
“I see. So that’s how it is. We’re going to dispense with civility then,” he said, his eyes calculating.
“You dispensed with that right along with your coffee,” I said.
Pretend-Mead glared from me to Miles, as if trying to figure us out.
“If that’s all, then we’ll be going,” said Miles.
We were almost to the door when Pretend-Mead spoke softly.
“I’m not the only one who has something to hide, and you have just as much to lose if your secrets come to light.”
Miles stopped and turned.
“Any claims you make in reference to secrets you believe we have, are likely to result in your sanity being questioned. The loss will be yours.”
We turned and left.
We walked down the hallway and through a large meeting room. Several of the other students from class were gathered there in small groups, talking in whispers. I strained to listen as we passed by. From what I gathered, no one was impressed with the professor.
“Miles! Did she tell you what happened?” asked Matt, seeing us as we walked by the group he was in.
“Hi, Matt,” said Miles. “What is it you’re wondering if she told me?”
“Mead has it in for your wife. I don’t know what his damage is, but I’m just saying, it’s bad. It’s a miracle she didn’t get hurt. He pretended to trip, and launched a full cup of steaming coffee at her.”
“It was intentional!” said a girl. I’d never met her before. “Served him right though, he ended up burning himself.”
All of the students chuckled about that.
“How did that even happen?” asked another girl.
“I don’t know, liquid doesn’t always do what you think it will,” said the guy who loves the science fiction show. “Like when you carry a bowl full of water, it’ll slosh out where you don’t expect it to.”
Everyone thought about that for a moment, trying to make it work. They seemed to accept it. What else could they do!
“You should tell the Dean what’s going on,” said Matt. “I’ll be a witness. The guy shouldn’t be allowed to teach.”
“I will too,” said the girl. Several others said the same thing.
“You’re right, something needs to be done,” said Miles.
“I’m dropping the class,” I said. “The guy’s not in his right mind. There’s no telling what he would try next, if he had the chance.”
“No kidding!” said Matt. “I may drop it, too.”
Several others agreed, and said again that they’d act as witnesses to Pretend-Mead’s bizarre behavior.
“Thank you, everyone, we’ll let you all know if we need you to back us up with the Dean,” said Miles.
We said goodbye, and continued on our way out of the building. We walked down the steps and headed toward one of the grassy areas. It was a safe assumption that Miles was leading us to the parking lot. Our apartment would be the best place to talk everything over.
“You’re dropping the class?” asked Miles. “I want to make sure I heard that right.”
“Yes, I am. He’s trying to investigate me, and us, as much as I’m trying to investigate him. I’ve got my ability that gives me an edge, but it’s double-edged. I can’t lie or I’ll risk damaging it. If he asked the wrong questions… refusing to answer would be as good as an admittance.”
“I agree with you,” said Miles. “I’m glad you’re dropping the course. From the questions you asked in class, I’m sure we have something our PI can work with. Maybe you’ll learn something more when you talk to Cecilia this weekend.”
“The questions I asked tipped him off, though. That’s not good. That’s extremely not good.”
“You took a risk,” said Miles. “You got a lot out of him. That was probably the best shot you’d ever get. I’d like to see anyone else, do better.”
“Thanks,” I said, letting go of his hand so I could give him a one-armed hug as we walked. “Your support means everything.”
“You’re welcome,” Miles said, hugging back. “Thank you for dropping the class. You’ve spared me from having to beg.”
I laughed, but I knew what a relief it was to him. In spite of our setup and all of the precautions he took, there was always the concern that something would interfere with the webcam signal. If that had happened today when Pretend-Mead threw the coffee at me, it wouldn’t have helped me any that Xander and some of our other friends were there in the classroom.
“It’ll be kind of nice not having an early morning class on Mondays and Wednesdays,” I said. “I do wish I could have gotten more out of him while I had the chance.”
“I wonder…” said Miles. He was thinking something over, so I waited. “I just wonder what you could do with practice. It isn’t as though you’ve had much time or opportunity.”
“Yeah. Oh!” I suddenly exclaimed. “My range is further than it was on Monday! He sat on the table the whole time. I still heard the truth.”
“That’s great. I like the idea of you being further away from people like him when you’re out truth-gathering.”
“Me too! Maybe if I practice enough, I’ll be able to be stealthy about it. Of course they’d have to be talking about the crime they committed for me to get anything useful, but still.”
“Neither of us has classes until after lunch,” said Miles. “Considering we skipped out on them the first day because we were talking with our friends, we won’t want to miss again. But, how would you like to go to the mall?”
“Yes! I know exactly what you’re thinking!” I said. “That’s perfect! What a great place to practice.”
“I’d really like to know what you learned today too,” said Miles, as we reached the parking lot and our vehicle.
“I’ll give you the condensed version on the way,” I said as I fastened my seatbelt and Miles closed my door.
“Sounds good,” said Miles, as he took his place in the driver’s seat. He started the car and backed out of the parking space. “We’re on our way. Start talking.”
I laughed, but then grew serious as I began to recall what I learned.
“Rob Westin, aka Pretend-Mead, killed Ryan Mead in the summer of 1996. It was premeditated. Rob and Ryan went on a camping trip. It was August first, not that long before school started. Rob killed him. He shoved his body over the edge of a deep crevice and then climbed down and buried him. He was so cold and calculating about the whole thing. It was awful,” I said, shuddering. I’d only given Miles a s
mall part of what I saw.
“You don’t sound as though you’re repeating a truth that you heard. You’re talking like you were there.”
“It’s like I was. I saw and heard everything. I’m not sure why. When it was over, it’s as if no time had passed.”
“Is this like the truths that you hear? Is this locked up unless you want it?”
“It has to be, because otherwise that’s all I’d be able to think about.”
“That’s good,” said Miles. “How clear is this memory, since I don’t know what else to call it, when you do want it?”
I thought for a second.
“Very clear,” I said.
“Then maybe there’s something there that will give you a clue to where this place is. The kind of plants and trees, and any wildlife you may have seen. Anything that will narrow it down more.”
“I’ll try then, once we get home,” I said, not looking forward to this. It was necessary though, and as long as this didn’t become part of my actual memory, it would be okay. I didn’t want this popping up in my dreams or my thoughts at random! All I could do was hope that it would lock back up when I was finished with it.
Before very many minutes passed, we were at one of Glen Haven’s larger malls. Miles found a parking spot, and we went inside.
“How do you want to do this?” he asked. “Sit in one place, or walk around?”
“Let’s go to the food court. If there are very many people there, we can get a table and see if I pick up anything.”
“Alright, that’s what we’ll do then.”
I window shopped as we walked in the direction of the food court. I slowed down, and Miles looked at me as we passed a window full of purses.
“We can always stop if you see something you like,” Miles said.
“Maybe on the way back,” I said. “Well, maybe just for a second.”
Miles smiled and walked with me into the shop. I still wasn’t used to being able to afford anything I wanted. My habit for so long had been to walk on by shop windows, not go in and then come back out with a shopping bag filled with my favorite things.
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