Infinite Days by Rebecca Maizel

the sound pass through me. Like a whisper on bare skin, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. I felt a pair of hands rest on my shoulders. I kept my eyes closed.
    Have you learned Italian yet? a voice whispered in my ear. Except the voice was in my head and I was remembering the last time I’d heard that song—in 1740, in Paris, with Rhode.
    “You’re not really here,” I whispered.
    Didn’t I tell you? Anywhere you go, I will go, the voice whispered.
    But I knew I was alone in that listening room, in a century I knew nothing about…the ghost of Rhode my only company.
    “What are you doing?” said a voice that was clearly not Rhode’s.
    My eyes flew open. I looked right. Justin Enos held the door open and the Three-Piece passed behind him, looking in at me through the glass. I had the sudden realization that I was on my knees, and I stood up from the floor immediately. “Listening,” I said, though it was more like a yell.
    Justin gestured to the stereo. “Can I?”
    I nodded, unsure what he was doing there. I fiddled aimlessly with the CDs. He turned down the volume so the song was no louder than a whisper.
    “Why are you here?” I asked.
    “I wanted to know what you were listening to because the look on your face was like you were in pain or something. But it was just classical music.”
    “It’s not just classical.”
    His eyebrows furrowed, and I looked away toward the CDs again.
    But I had to look back.
    Justin’s shirt was unbuttoned just one button too far—just enough so I could see the cleft in between his chest muscles. A deep ravine of bronzed skin. I wanted to run my finger over it. It was just a simple, small button, but it looked as though it was a forgotten button, as if getting dressed in a hurry was something he did often.
    He followed my eyes, looked down to his shirt, and immediately reached his long fingers up to close the button. I grabbed a CD from the crate—disappointed.
    “You look like you’d never heard music before,” he said.
    “I haven’t,” I said. “Not like that.” I focused on the last name on a CD in the crate. Madonna, a composer I’d never heard of. I placed the CD with the others whose last name began with M.
    “You’ve never heard music on a stereo?”
    “Not exactly.”
    “And you chose opera?”
    I looked up. Justin’s expression was a mix of amazement and sheer confusion. Perhaps he thought I was strange, but in that moment, I could feel it—he was enthralled. My eyes traveled over his shoulder to one of Justin’s brothers peeking into the listening room, the older one, the one with earrings in his ear. Behind him, members of the Three-Piece giggled to one another, hiding their mouths by turning their heads when I caught their eyes.
    “I have to go,” I said, shoving the last CDs carelessly at the end of the row. I pushed past so my shoulder grazed Justin’s arm. It was warm, as though he’d been sitting in the sun. As I walked away, past them, I didn’t look back. Even as they laughed at my expense, I could feel the vibrations of the woman’s soprano in the middle of my chest—somewhere very close to my heart.

Chapter Six
    First day of classes. What to wear?
    Wickham didn’t have uniforms, so it was a bit of a gamble. The weather was still so warm despite it being early September. Jeans and a simple black tank top—that seemed like a safe bet. No odd colors that were out of fashion. Just simple. Tony said he would meet me outside Seeker so we could walk to assembly together. Strength in numbers, I thought after my debacle in the listening room with Justin.
    The morning of the first day of school, I had a few minutes before I had to meet Tony. I went into my kitchen. It was a small alcove, with modest wooden cabinets and a small counter space. Rhode had stocked it with pans, silverware, and other kitchen tools. Yet, the most important items were on the counter to the right of the sink.
    Spices and dried flowers were