An entire month goes by quickly. A lot has changed since then. The gossip about Cornelius and Professor Grant's argument finally stop, and Kendrick is now in another English class. We conclude our lessons on J. L. Lucas with a quiz, which I’m utmost confident about. At the end of class everyone, except me, drag their feet to turn in their test. I wait until everyone leaves the room before I approach Professor Grant’s desk.
I place my test on his desk with a confident smirk.
"I certainly hope you did well," he says in a sarcastic way.
"Hey, guess what? I'm almost done with your story.”
"Are you? How do you like it so far?"
"It’s very good. You should get it published.”
He giggles.
"Finding a decent publisher is a lot of work these days, and most of my time is absorbed by teaching you gremlins," he tells me.
He then looks down at my shoulder. The temperature is fair today, so I decided to wear a short-sleeved shirt.
"Hold one second. What happened to your arm?”
I look at my shoulder and then back at him.
"It’s a very long and unusual story.”
“Can I take a look at that?”
“Sure, but it’s pretty gross,” I inform him.
I pull my sleeve back and shift my shoulder towards him. Then something strange happens. He moves his eyes from the mark and into mine, and then it takes me a moment to read his expression. Strangely, for reasons I’m unaware of, utter shock has clouded his face.
“Iva…how did you get that scar?” he asks.
“I don't know. It just appeared one day.”
“It just appeared, by itself?”
“Yes. Weird, isn’t it?”
He fiddles with his pen for a moment before asking another question. He appears nervous.
“I don't mean to take up too much of your time, but did this involve a box of some kind?” he asks slowly and uneasily. “I know it's an odd question.”
“It's funny you say that. Yes, it did.”
I’m starting to get a strange vibe. Maybe it's because of his behavior.
“A scarlet box?” he continues to question me.
“Yes. How did you know?”
“This changes everything,” he says lowly to himself.
Someone comes into the class and stands at his side. It’s my biology teacher, Professor Nelson.
"Hey Bill, here's your stapler back," Professor Nelson says while holding out a stapler.
Professor Nelson looks over at me and transfers back to Professor Grant.
"Bill?" Nelson leans forward and calls for his attention again.
Suddenly, Professor Grant breaks away from his trance.
"No problem James, anytime," he says while taking his stapler with a twitchy hand.
"Thanks," Professor Nelson replies.
He takes a second to observe Professor Grant, then me, before exiting the room.
“What are your plans tomorrow, Iva? I would like to talk more about this, if you don’t mind.”
“Hold on...what's going on? How did you know about the box?”
He starts to speak but the words are trapped in his throat.
“I don't know where to start,” he blurts out. “I think the best thing to do is show you.”
“Show me what?”
“Let's just say...I have a friend. And I want you to meet him.”
“What friend?” I ask with confusion.
“Iva, it's hard to explain. I think it's best if you just meet him in person because if I tell you, you won’t believe me. Can you meet me here at 7, tomorrow morning?”
"Okay, I'll see you at 7," I confirm with uncertainty.
“Please, don’t forget,” he responds in a begging tone.
“I won’t,” I reply.
I proceed out the door and down the hallway. Seriously, what was that all about? I slip into a daydream. All I can think about is Professor Grant and the alarm in his eyes. Many thoughts shoot across my mind. Most of those thoughts are questions.
Why was he so shocked when I showed him the scar? And how did he know about the box I found at that antique shop? Even Professor Nelson felt a weird vibe in the room. At least I wasn't the only one who noticed.
"Iva!" Someone shouts my name.
I break out of the daydream and realize my mom is waiting for me in the van. I get into the passenger seat and buckle in.
"How was school?" she asks with a bright grin.
"It was good," I smile halfheartedly. “Hey, I have to get dropped off early tomorrow for something.”
“Alright.”
She gazes at me for a moment and must have noticed a flaw in my smile.
"Are you okay? It looks like something is bothering you.”
"No, I’m fine," I answer while looking out the window.
Our drive home is very quiet. My mom keeps asking me if something is wrong, but I continue to answer “No, I’m fine”. Before I go to sleep that strange vibe I felt earlier turns into something ugly. And then I have a sense that something terrible is about to happen…