2 Whispering by Amanda M. Lee Page A

starting to think that was a legitimate idea and not just a joke idea, at this point.
    My second math class was just as boring as the first one had been. I couldn’t decide which class was going to be worse this semester: Math or psychology.
    Thankfully, my next two classes were a lot more entertaining. We were reading Bram Stoker’s Dracula in my horror literature class. I had read the book for the first time when I was thirteen and I could keep up with the class discussion fairly easily without reading it again.
    My current events class was actually action packed. Professor Livingston was passionate about the state of the media today and he was having a virtual fit about the recent coverage on the government budget talks. He was a pretty animated guy and I was definitely enjoying his lecture.
    After class, I walked out into the hallway with Matilda. She was yammering on about something I didn’t really care about and I was scanning the hallway for something – anything really – to distract me from her obsessive chatter about Rick No. 1.
    Unfortunately what my eyes focused on was Professor Sam Blake. He was about fifty feet away from me and down the hall – but his eyes were trained on me. He was watching me.
    “What a tool,” I muttered.
    “What?” Matilda was momentarily nonplussed. “Rick is not a tool.”
    “Not Rick,” I admonished her.
    “Who?” She turned to see whom I was staring at but I quickly snapped my eyes back to her.
    “I forgot, I have to go talk to my English professor about something on the syllabus. I’ll catch up with you later.”
    Matilda’s mouth dropped open to say something – if it was about Rick No. 1 I was about to scream – but I didn’t let her continue. Instead I turned on my heel and swished through the crowd with a clear purpose. That purpose was Professor Blake.
    I came up short when I saw that he was talking to Professor Livingston. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously in Professor Livingston’s direction, but he didn’t even seem to be aware of my presence.
    “Can you believe CNN spent that much time on the debt ceiling debate without also talking about health care and the defense budget?”
    Professor Blake had looked bored with the conversation before I stalked over to his side. Now he seemed really distracted. “It’s terrible, I agree,” Professor Blake said distractedly.
    I cleared my throat, still unsure what I was going to say to him until the words were actually exiting my mouth. “Professor Blake, I was wondering if I could talk to you about that project we were talking about the other day?”
    Professor Blake raised an eyebrow in my direction. “I thought you were all set on that project?”
    “Something has . . . come up that I wasn’t quite prepared for and I just want to see what you think about it before I proceed.” I felt like I was suddenly in an episode of Alias . I was Sydney Bristow and Professor Blake was Arvin Sloane.  Now if I could just find a cave to trap him in for eternity.
    “Sure,” Professor Blake said stiffly, as if he was doing me a favor. “Why don’t we go up to my office and talk about it?”
    “Great,” I muttered, although I was thinking it was anything but great.
    “Paul, can we continue this later?” Professor Blake directed the question to Professor Livingston, but his eyes never left my face.
    “Sure,” Professor Livingston said. “I have stuff to do anyway.”
    Professor Blake separated from Professor Livingston and ushered me towards the stairwell that led upstairs to the staff offices. We didn’t say a word to each other until we were safely locked inside his office – with the door to the hallway closed behind us. He clearly didn’t want any of his peers to hear our conversation.
    Professor Blake sat at his desk and regarded me speculatively. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
    Now that I was here I wasn’t sure exactly how much I wanted to tell him. I’m naturally suspicious by nature, but