I have never been so nervous to knock on a door before in my life.
Ben, Bee, and I make our way to the nurse’s during the first break, having agreed we’d try and find out what Elaine knows. We think she was a prisoner and, in desperation, thought of writing out the code. But we have no idea what she means by follow the flower person.
“Just a thought, but we should be gentle with her,” Bee says before my knuckles hit the wooden door. “There’s no telling what’s what in this situation. We need to be careful.”
Ben yawns, wiping the tired from his eyes. I nod. There’s a tightness in my chest that’s been there since last night. I should tell them about this feeling of being followed. Observed. But now is not the time. After.
The door rattles, and soon after, it opens wide to a smiling Elaine.
“Ife! It’s you. Nice to see you again. And so soon after your checkup. Oh, you’ve brought friends. Wait, I know who you both are. You’re Bijal and you’re Ben, yes. What can I do for you? Is it your head again?”
“Uh, no. It’s . . . I—we wanted to ask you a few questions,” I say. “If that’s okay?”
Elaine smiles and says, “Five minutes, but then I’ll have to get back to work. Tea? Biscuits?”
“Yes, please,” Ben and Bee reply.
The kettle bubbles on the table by Elaine’s desk while she sits in her chair chomping on a digestive biscuit. “You said you wanted to ask me a few questions?” Crumbs fall out her mouth as she speaks.
“Yes, we did. We wanted to ask you about your time at Nithercott,” Ben answers.
Elaine looks at the three of us and the silence is long. It’s broken with a sigh. “It was so long ago, but I will try my best. Would you like to know about what the teachers were like? Or maybe—”
“Sorry, Miss, but could you tell us about the message you left behind?” Ben asks. Bee gives him the coldest be-careful stare ever. He brushes it off and goes on. “I know you know something. What did you mean by ‘follow the flower person’?”
The smile is wiped from Elaine’s face and it’s replaced with a blank stare and rapid blinking.
What the hell is he doing? This wasn’t the plan.
“Ignore him,” Bee says quickly to Elaine. “If you could tell us about what the teachers were like, that’s fine. I-it’s for a school project.”
Elaine’s smile returns. “Why certainly. Now, there was this teacher, Mr. Spinfoot. He used to wear the most extravagant blazers and they were all picked according to his mood that morning. Yellow meant—”
“Do you remember writing this?” Ben holds out his phone. “I need to know if you met him. Or—or if you know anything. Please. Who is the Changing Man?”
“Ch-Changing Man?” Elaine asks. Her face is scrunched in confusion. “I—”
Ben nods. “Yes, yes. That’s right. You left this message. Is the hidden room in the library where he kept you?”
“I—What?” Elaine looks around as if somehow we can help her out. “Who kept me?”
“The Changing Man,” Ben snaps.
Elaine blinks at us and . . . this is getting us nowhere. Maybe she didn’t write the code. Maybe she doesn’t want to tell us anything. Or maybe . . . maybe she just doesn’t remember. An idea forms. I remember the petal I slipped into my blazer pocket and pull it out slowly. Maybe seeing it might spark her memory.
“Ife, don’t,” Bee warns.
When she tries to stop me, I brush her off. Her narrowed eyes and pinched expression are enough for me to instantly regret it. I open my mouth to defend myself, but there’s a raking pain in the back of my throat. I take a deep breath and try again.
“If this means we find something out, then what’s the problem?” I whisper.
“What’s the problem?” Bee whispers harshly. “Oh, no problem, just that she’s clearly confused. We need to get back on track. Let’s not—”
“Oh, what’s that?” Elaine asks. She takes the petal from my hand. Rising from her seat, she examines it. Utterly entranced. The pollen clings to her fingers and she rubs her thumb and index finger together. After a moment she sneezes, and then she looks at us oddly. Sniffing, she tilts her head a little while her left eye twitches and her smile fades into emptiness.
“I told you,” Bee hisses first at me, then at Ben. “I told you both.”
“Miss?” I ask.
Elaine’s breaths are shallow. “Let me out,” she erupts suddenly, banging her fists against her temple. “Let me out!”
Her voice is hysterical and scratchy. “We’re sorry. Miss, we didn’t mean to—”
Elaine grabs me by the shoulders and grips me hard. My blood chills as I look into her eyes. There’s something not right with them. They’re halfway between empty and petrified, alive with feral urgency. She huffs and puffs as if fighting some invisible beast in her mind. “Vol ow . . . sor . . . P-p-paper trail.”
What the hell is happening? ...
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