Priscilla Sum

Part 2--Missing Persons

Walking back to campus the next day was hard. Not that I told my parents about my experience in the storm; frankly, I had no idea what exactly happened. My subconscious had latched onto the sight, though, and my dreams were full of strange people made of water, malevolent beings intent on smothering and drowning me over and over. I would wake up struggling to breathe, my heart racing. I needed something else to think about. I wanted an alternative for my mind to obsess over, and leave the water-demons behind.

The crisp almost-spring-but-not-over-winter breeze curled around my ankles as I walked past the Regenstein Library for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. I almost made it by without glancing warily around the columns as if the face would manifest again—but the only thing to approach me was a lanky senior with short, curly hair and the faint wisp of a goatee across his chin. He had a familiar sheaf of papers in his hand.

"Priscilla?" he guessed my name, eyebrows arching over dark-brown eyes.

I nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"Oh good." He gave a chuckle and thrust the sheaf at me, still in their paper clip. "I'm Ryan, Tony's TA. He said you needed these back first thing."

I took my notes, slipping them into my bag. "Thanks," I eyed Ryan with more than a little confusion. "Is he okay? He was supposed to meet me last night." I'd meandered the entire breadth of the Regenstein three times before I gave up and sent Tony a hasty "Where r u?" text and marched back home to eat my dinner.

Now it was Ryan's turn to look puzzled. "Last night? I don't know anything about that. All I know is, he was in a big hurry this morning when he dropped these off at study hall." Ryan gave a little half-shrug. "He looked a little flushed, but that was it. He left before I could say anything." His lips quirked in a tiny grin. "I had to ask around the study hall to find out what you looked like." He stopped like I was supposed to react in some way, but I was still in the middle of processing what "he looked a little flushed" meant, or why Tony might be in a hurry.

"Oh," I muttered to avoid hesitating any longer. "Well, I'm, uh, glad you did." How else could I end the conversation quickly? I was going to be late for class! "Thanks Ryan; see you around."

"You bet, Priscilla," he waved as I walked away.

I stepped into Natural Sciences just as Mr. Gorden walked behind his desk. He looked up, as he normally did, taking a visual roll of the class. I dropped quickly into the nearest seat, and saw his face relax only slightly.

"Good morning, everyone," he said. "Don't get out your notes just yet." He waited a moment for the projector to flicker on, revealing a slide with two words designed to strike fear in the heart of even the most ardent student: "POP QUIZ." A groan worked its way through every row.

Mr. Gorden waved a wrinkled, arthritic hand. "Now, now—before you all get too excited, we won't be taking the quiz right away. First, I have a very special guest I'd like you all to meet." He stepped back and beckoned forward a man I'd hardly even noticed.

He was very round, both his gut and his face. His eyes were tiny, pinched behind wire-framed glasses. His hair was gathered in one very thick, curly patch on top of his head, with the sides shaved so severely, one could see the fluorescent lights reflecting of his shiny scalp. He grinned at us, displaying most of his enormous teeth.

"Greetings, everyone," he warbled in his strange, high-pitched voice. "My name is Edgar Montaine, and I want to tell you about a very exciting opportunity coming right to you all the way from—" he stopped and fumbled with the projector remote until the screen jumped two slides and we were left looking at a random map depicting several known ancient civilizations in Eastern Europe, coded in bright, garish colors. Edgar gestured to one of the areas, a bright-cherry-red blob, and finished his sentence, "Macedonia!"