Page 75 of Sinister

“I have to go,” I hear myself say as I start walking away. “I left something in the . . .”

But neither Claire nor the guy is listening to me anymore, so I just stroll away without completing my sentence.

How could this happen? And why? Edwin had disappeared so suddenly that I didn’t have a chance to ask why he left, but I never imagined anything like this.

“Hey, Petra,” I hear someone else call out my name. It’s Harry. “You okay?” he asks, and when I don’t say anything, he continues, “I guess you heard about Edwin.”

I shake my head, unable to find the right words.

“I . . . I knew him, Harry. We did a project together last year.”

Harry’s eyes widen. “Fuck!” he says in a soft voice.

We stand in painful silence for a few seconds.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry begins again in an awkward tone. “This must feel so unreal to you.”

“I don’t really know, it’s all so . . . I just found out that he was the one who dropped out of Art History.”

Harry looks puzzled, unsurprisingly because he doesn’t know that I had gotten Edwin’s spot in the class instead.

Oh God. The reality of it sinks in deeper.

The thought that Edwin’s death had inadvertently opened a door for me makes me feel sick and twisted with guilt.

“Do-do they know what happened?” I ask, not knowing what else to say.

“Not yet,” Harry replies. “They’re still investigating.” The bell rings at that moment, and Harry says, “I gotta dash, Petra. But let me know if you need to talk or something.”

He looks sincere when he offers to help, but I can only give him a grateful nod in return. After he leaves, I too force myself to move, to put one foot in front of the other, and head to class.

On the way, I get a message from Amelia.

Hey Petra, how you holding up?

Am I holding up? Am I barely managing to keep my head over water? I don’t know, so I text back:

I’m fine, just busy with schoolwork.

Her reply is almost immediate.

Ah good, I was hoping to ask you something kinda personal . . .

Sure, what’s up?

I text her back. Anything to get my mind off this hellish situation.

Her next message surprises me.

I was just wondering . . . Are you into anyone at school? Any guys? Or girls?

Why do you ask?

I fire back, not knowing how else to respond.

The last time we texted was tense, right? So I thought maybe I touched a nerve with my tactless questions.

Hmm, a plausible explanation. But Amelia and I always ask tactless questions; it’s kind of our thing, being able to ask each other about the most personal bits of our lives without offering any explanation or context.