Dying for an Education

by Stacey Alabaster

  Er. Sounded right. It was everyone else who didn’t fit in then. Sam was just fine.

  “It must be a lot of pressure to keep your grades high, though,” I said, trying to empathize with him. But everything I said just caused him further offense.

  He just grunted. “I handle the pressure just fine. It’s other people who crack underneath it. Believe me.”

  Okay then.

  I turned my attention to the towers. There were five separate ‘blocks’ for five different houses. I didn’t completely understand the system, but each house was named after a donor, a successful former alumnus, and there were rules for who could and couldn’t be admitted to live there.

  Sam pointed to the one that Rick had been pushed from. It would be a scary place to sleep at the moment, I assumed. Full of ghosts. But the students who lived there still needed somewhere to live. “Some of them have gone back home to stay with their parents,” Sam commented. “Some of them have even withdrawn from their classes for the semester.”

  “It’s like Picnic at Hanging Rock,” I mused, but Sam’s face looked totally blank at the reference. “It’s a movie. Well, it was a book first. Claire likes the book, but I prefer the movie.”

  Sam shook his head. “Who is Claire?”

  I sighed. “No one.” Sam and Claire would most likely never actually meet. Even if I enrolled in Ferguson for real, Claire would never bother to take the forty-five-minute journey up here. She hated the mountains, even though she liked to pretend she was sleek and sophisticated and could deal with colder weather. She couldn’t.

  “So who actually lives in this tower?” I asked Sam, pointing toward the one where Rick had died. “Anyone whose name I would recognize?”

  He shrugged. “You’re too new. You don’t know enough people.”

  Did he always have to be so purposefully difficult?

  “Well, do you know anyone who lives there?” I shot back. He wasn’t exactly swimming in friendships.

  Sam shrugged. “That’s the girls’ accommodation.”

  I was surprised to hear that. What was Rick doing in the girls’ student accommodation tower? I started to get this sinking feeling that what Adrian Malone had said about Rick might have some truth to it… Maybe he wasn’t as golden as he had appeared to be on the surface.

  “Your little friend with the blonde hair lives here,” Sam stated bleakly.

  For a moment, I was so confused that I thought he was talking about Claire. “Huh?” I asked.

  “I saw the two of you in the quad the other day.”

  It still took a moment or two for it to register that he was talking about Belle. “Woah. Belle lives here?” I craned my neck to look all the way up to the tenth floor, the one that Rick had been pushed from.

  My mind started racing. She had been at the scene of the crime.

  She’d had Rick’s blood on her hands. Quite literally.

  But nah, nah, nah. I shook my head. Belle couldn’t be guilty.

  Then again, her story may not have added up. I was still craning to look. She lived in the tower? But she had told me that she had seen the fall from a distance, across the campus, and came running to Rick’s aid. Not that it did any good. He died in her arms.

  Well, maybe she had just been walking home, I reassured myself. It wasn’t necessarily a lie.

  “You can’t trust whatever Belle told you about that night,” Sam said, staring at the tower.

  “Why not?” I dared to ask him.

  He turned to stare at me. There was no emotion on his blank face. “You know that Belle didn’t actually like Rick.”

  I pulled a face. Whatever, Sam. “Sure she did. She was horrified the night that he died! Sobbing and screaming in the middle of the street. I have never seen someone in such severe grief.”

  But then I remembered how cheerful she had been in Adrian Malone’s class the following day. I mean, people grieved in all different ways, so maybe I shouldn’t have judged. But I was judging.

  I needed to find out more about Belle.

  Adrian Malone had just finished delivering a level-five seminar on the philosophy of language. I waited for the last student to leave, then I slipped in.

  He glanced up from the pile of papers he was trying to tame and stared at me like an angry beaver. Who wanted me to leave his tree.

  “I am here to call a truce.”

  He was still shuffling papers. The grumpiness sort of slid away from his face as he considered this. Now that he knew I wasn’t there to be an antagonist, he softened a little bit.

  “Your poem last night was rather good,” he finally said, looking up as he unlocked a briefcase and put the papers inside. “And if you didn’t steal it, then I apologize.”

  Was he being sincere, or just trying to smooth things over with a potential student? I didn’t think that Adrian Malone was the kind of man to just throw out compliments lightly, though. They had to be earned. And from what he had accidentally said to me in the staff lounge the other day, I knew that he didn’t much care what his students thought of him. He thought they were all below him.

  “I am trying to find out what happened to Rick,” I said, perching myself on the edge of a desk.

  Adrian had a little twinkle in his eyes when I told him that. He stopped packing and gave me his full attention. “Why such an interest in this, Alyson Foulkes?”

  I wasn’t sure how much to tell him. Did he need to know my history of solving murder mysteries? I had a feeling that he was the sort of person who used things against you, so I remained tightlipped.

  “You said the Rick wasn’t as squeaky clean as everyone thought,” I said quietly. “Can you tell me more about that?”

  Adrian was the one who was tightlipped now. He had been full of bluster in the staff room a few days earlier, but now that he was being put on the spot, he seemed hesitant to actually back up his claims.

  “There were rumors.”

  I nodded. I had to guess, but I was pretty sure I was on the right path. “About him and students?”

  Adrian’s face was always a little flushed. Whether it was from the too tight leather jackets or maybe too much time spent drinking after class, I didn’t know. But I was pretty sure his face was going even more crimson upon hearing that question.

  “Well, yes, there were rumors that he got a little too friendly with students.”

  “Well, he was a friendly guy. Beloved by all,” I said a little too wryly. Too casually.

  Adrian stared at me. “You know what I am getting at, Miss Foulkes. Or you wouldn’t have asked me.”

  I nodded. I’d just needed confirmation. Of course, I only had Adrian’s word to go off of, and I still wasn’t sure he was a trustworthy source.

  “So how is that promotion going?” I asked. “Do you have the role of senior lecturer in the bag now?”

  “Nothing is set in stone now,” he said, his face falling a little as a sudden sharp ray of sunshine came in through the window. For the first time, I could see how old he really was. He dressed young, but his wrinkles were deeper than they’d appeared from a distance. He must have been very close to celebrating his 50th birthday. “Looks like Bruce Helen is the golden child of the English Department now.”

  ‘Child’ was a strange term for a man who was at least fifty-five. But I could see the pain edge its way across Adrian Malone’s face as he started to pound his way across the floorboards toward the door. He’d thought he had it in the bag, and then there was a new contender.

  I had to leave the room as well as the next class of students was waiting to come in. I took in what Adrian had said about Rick as I made my way across the courtyard. I found my way back to the accommodation towers, even though I had never intended to stray that far across campus. I was missing my next lecture.

  There was Rex Lewis. Staring up at the tenth floor.

  16

  Claire

  The Eden Bay markets ran on the last Friday evening of each month. Sometimes there were fireworks and a ba
nd, and it had a sort of mini carnival type atmosphere with food tents and fairy lights everywhere. I was looking for a particular store, so I hurried past the hustlers trying to get me to stop and sniff their handmade oils and soaps.

  Byron.

  There was a sign outside the front of her tent saying that readings were $100, but I was looking for something a little more intensive than just a reading that evening. I peeked in through the purple curtain and when I couldn’t see anyone else there, I slipped on through.

  “Claire,” Byron said, sitting up as though I had caught her dozing off. It was only 5pm though. “How did you go with your friendly little presence in the shop?”

  Ha. ‘Friendly.’ Yeah right.

  I told her all about the burning of the stool and how it had done nothing.

  Byron listened carefully, her face hardly changing as I told her about what I had seen upstairs even with the stool burnt to a crisp. She had a reverence for everything I said, which was refreshing after having to put up with Chris and Matt’s bemused but ultimately dismissive reactions all week.

  “Huh,” she said, lacing her fingers together. She was just silently pondering, though. I needed more than that. I needed a solution.

  “I heard that you do…spirit clearings…” I said slowly and unsurely. It wasn’t something I even thought I would ask for. It wasn’t something I’d ever thought I’d believe in, but these were desperate times and they called for desperate measures.

  She nodded. “But you have to be sure that you really want the spirit to go, Claire.”

  I just looked at her blankly. “Why on Earth wouldn’t I want it to go?”

  She gave the slightest shrug. Every move and gesture she made was so small and languid, so full of grace. Like her bones were fragile, but she was an old, strong spirit inhabiting them. “You may just find you miss it when it is gone.”

  I threw my head back a little. The laugh came from deep within my guts. “I will not miss this thing. Believe me.”

  Byron nodded. She agreed to come to the shop later that night, just after seven. But she did have one last word of warning for me. “Be careful what you wish for, Claire. And be careful what you wish to bring into the light. Because you just might have to take a good look at it.”

  17

  Alyson

  Darn wrinkles. I pulled at the tops of my eyes as I stared into the bathroom mirror, but they just sprung back when I dropped the lids. I hoped I looked young enough to pass as someone who could live in the towers. Even though students of all ages could enroll at Ferguson, the college accommodation towers were a slightly different matter. They had strict entry requirements, and one had to be straight out of a reputable high school to get in and preferably on either a scholarship or a legacy. So everyone who lived in them was eighteen to twenty-two.

  I took a deep breath as I left the bathroom and headed toward the tower where Rick had been pushed. Some kids may have run home to mommy and daddy, but there were still plenty living there—like Belle. I knew she was there because I’d followed her after class.

  I’d never actually been inside one of the sandstone towers. The buildings were over a hundred years old, and they felt both fresh and damp as I walked inside. I felt a little like Harry Potter as I stepped through the heavy door and into the lobby. I didn’t have to go far to find the girl I was looking for.

  Belle had one leg over the other as she flipped through a semantics workbook with a manicured finger. She always managed to look like a glamorous 1950s starlet even when she was doing something as casual as reading a textbook.

  I saw Rick Niemer’s name on the cover.

  I gave her my best grin. “Just checking out the towers to see if I might want to live here,” I said, glancing around. “Apparently there are a few vacancies now.”

  She peered up at me through her thick frames. “I thought you were…” She paused. “…a mature-aged entry,” she said, looking me up and down. “Sorry if I assumed that.”

  Wow.

  “Yes, the years have been a little rough on me. But I am straight out of high school,” I said with a grin. Wow. If I really had been eighteen, I would have been highly offended.

  Belle went back to her textbook. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said in a way that didn’t make it seem as though she wanted to help at all.

  “Actually, you can help,” I said, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “Belle, is there anyone who lives in this building who would have wanted to hurt Rick?”

  She looked up at me sharply and the textbook slipped out of her fingers a little.

  “Yes, there is, as a matter of fact,” she said. “Someone who was in love with Rick. And she’s here right now.”

  I wondered if that person was her.

  “Do you know if I can speak with her?” I asked cautiously. Belle seemed angry at me for some reason.

  She stared up at me again. “Why are you snooping around in this, Alyson? Just leave it be.”

  “Just give me the name of this girl and I will leave now,” I said.

  Belle paused for a moment. “Melissa,” she finally said. “That is who you want to speak to.”

  I desperately needed an iced coffee. Outside, a young guy with red hair was waiting for me. He looked a little anxious about being so close to the girls’ quarters, but he grabbed me by the arm as I raced toward the cafeteria.

  “What is it?” I asked, shrugging his arm off. I kinda wanted a break from these intense English kids. I needed my caffeine and my alone time.

  “I want to help,” Sam said. “For real this time.”

  I raised my eyebrows very high. “So, it wasn’t for real last time?”

  “I wasn’t sure that I could trust you,” Sam said, glancing around. “I thought you might be just another Rick groupie when I first met you. I mean, you are new here.”

  ‘Helpful’ wasn’t a word anyone would ever use to describe Sam Clapton, but I was willing to give him another chance. Especially considering he was the best chance I had at getting another lead. For all I knew, Belle had just thrown out this Melissa girl’s name to throw me off the scent.

  “Rex Lewis…” I said slowly, stopping in the middle of the grass.

  Sam’s ears pricked up. “What about him?”

  “Is he a good guy? Can he be…” I was about to say ‘trusted,’ but Sam had already jumped in to defend him.

  “Rex didn’t do anything, I can guarantee that,” Sam said flatly.

  “Oh, so he is one of your besties as well?” I wondered if Sam had any friends who weren’t a part of the teaching staff. Actually, maybe he and Claire should actually meet. They had being-the-teacher’s-pet in common, that was for sure.

  “Rex Lewis is the best thing to ever happen to the English Department. Before that, we had no funding and classes were being cut. Don’t go dragging his name through the mud in all of this.”

  I thought about this. So the English Department had been in trouble, financially? “Do you think that he was hesitant about giving Rick the promotion because it might cost too much?” Rick had a name and a reputation. He was a published author. “He might have been making high salary demands.”

  Sam shrugged a little. “Everyone knew that Rick was getting the position of senior lecturer. There wasn’t anyone else who was as qualified. Rex would have paid him what he was worth.”

  “What about Bruce Helen?” I asked. I had looked him up earlier and found a few interesting credits to his name. “He’s also published a book. And it looks like he has benefited from Rick’s death by taking over his classes.”

  Sam shook his head. “Nah, he’s just an imposter. A nobody.” We started to walk back toward the English building because Sam had an essay he needed to hand in. “This is the third draft,” he told me wearily and said that his desk was full of all the discarded drafts.

  Hmm, maybe Sam wasn’t such a teacher’s pet after all. At least, behind their backs he wasn’t. He had a lot of opinions about every pers
on who worked in the English faculty, and he spoke about the teachers as though they were peers—not people above him but people he stood shoulder to shoulder with. I admired that about him, actually.

  Sam asked me how I had done at the business facility the other day, and I laughed and told him that I was thinking about switching majors. “English is compulsory as part of my mature-aged entry program,” I said. “But now I want to do it voluntarily. Crazy.”

  “Oh, I thought you were straight out of school,” Sam said.

  I shot him a smile. “Thanks,” I said with a small laugh. “I appreciate it.” After Belle’s comments, I need the compliment.

  Sam was heading toward the assignment box in the Wooley Building. The place where all English students submitted essays with cover sheets and a time stamp. He tapped on it and shot me a look. “You’ll have to get used to the sight of this thing if you enroll.”

  I leaned back against the cool wall. Was I really going to do it? Become an English student? I was still yet to attend a single business lecture. Not in full, anyway.

  I finally rang Claire and told her the truth. “Somehow you must have had an influence on me. Claire… I think I am going to become an English major!”

  18

  Claire

  I felt like I had totally lost the plot as I waited for Byron to arrive.

  What was that saying about nature hating a vacuum? Alyson’s absence must have left one, because I was now acting crazy and taking on some of her traits. Believing in ghosts. In the supernatural.

  And then I got this crazy phone call from her telling me that she was going to become an English major? It seemed that each of us, without the other one there, was turning into the other.

  Even though Alyson had told me about her strange change of heart when it came to studying, I had held back on telling her about what was going on in my life. For some reason, I still couldn’t admit to her that there was a ghost in the bookshop. To be honest, part of me thought she might pack up her bags and come flying back to Eden Bay to check it out and try to help. And she had to do her own thing. It was only one week. She would be back on Tuesday.