her
father appeared to be staring at, looked like a cartoon. It looked like a
drawing of Gareth the Ghoul.
Abbie
glanced at the cartoon cel hanging on the Professor’s wall. It looked like the
same frame. The same grays, blues and yellow. It looked like the exact same
picture.
The connection chilled her, and she didn’t
know why. It was just a silly character. She hadn’t watched a Gareth cartoon in
years. A cute
ghoul-child with a Southern
accent, Gareth haunted a graveyard along with a whole community of adult ghouls
from the Civil War. They delighted in eating people. Gareth, however, was a
nonconformist among ghouls: he preferred to make friends with the living. So,
he packed up his belongings and ventured out into the world, hoping to find
friends.
Even
as a little girl, she hated that cartoon. It came on television every afternoon, and it
terrified her. She would hide behind the couch or run under the bed in her
grandparent’s room, waiting for Clinton Reed to come home. Funny a cartoon cel
would be hanging in the professor’s office. And what was the connection to
Clinton Reed?
The
Professor interrupted her. “Was there something I could help you with, Miss
Reed?”
Abbie
turned to him. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes. I lost my notes for the paper you
assigned us.”
“Interesting.”
He folded his hands together on top the desk. She thought of Miss Larson’s
impression again and smiled. The professor gestured to the seat by his desk.
“What
was the topic again?” Abbie asked as she sat down.
“Were
you not paying attention in class?”
She
wasn’t sure how to answer, and decided to come clean. “I know you said I was
really smart and you expect big things from me, but it’s my twenty-first
birthday tomorrow and I was thinking about that and all and… I’m sorry.”
“Interesting,”
he said again. Then picked up some papers and handed them to her. Abbie saw
that it was a case study. A stapled, twelve page outline of
some college social experiment.
“To
test whether revenge actually makes the victim feel better,” he said, flipping
through his own copy of the case study, “a psychology professor at Colgate
University set-up a group investment game with his students.”
“I
remember you talking about that yesterday.” She looked up from the paper in her
hands. He nodded at her.
“And
do you remember their findings?”
Abbie
shook her head. The Professor continued.
“People who have
been hurt or betrayed hold fast to a belief that if the offender suffers, they
will feel better.” He put down his paper, looking at her. “They believe it will
relieve their emotional pain. But is that true?”
Abbie’s
phone dinged, interrupting the professor. He stopped talking and glanced at
her. Phones were strictly forbidden in his presence—office or classroom. Abbie
gave an embarrassed smile then fished her phone from
her purse.
“I’ll
just turn this off.” She pressed the button to mute the ringer while at the
same time glancing at the screen. It was a text message from McKenzie Thomas.
Abbie set her phone face-down on the desk as the Professor finished his lecture.
Twenty
minutes later, Abbie left his office holding the twelve page case study in one
hand, and her phone in the other. She
read the text message as she walked through the crowded hallway.
It
was from McKenzie Thomas. Abbie typed a response and hit SEND. A moment later,
her phone chirped with a new incoming text message.
Chapter 8
A t best, Abbie felt marginally excited to see McKenzie Thomas again.
Still, a birthday lunch at SoGo Sushi couldn’t be all bad. The little
restaurant had a contemporary décor with neon-lit aquariums and stainless steel
tables. A glass bar lined the back wall with the itamae serving guests behind a
glass case. Japanese folk music beat softly through the room.
Abbie was seated at a table for two. She
turned
father appeared to be staring at, looked like a cartoon. It looked like a
drawing of Gareth the Ghoul.
Abbie
glanced at the cartoon cel hanging on the Professor’s wall. It looked like the
same frame. The same grays, blues and yellow. It looked like the exact same
picture.
The connection chilled her, and she didn’t
know why. It was just a silly character. She hadn’t watched a Gareth cartoon in
years. A cute
ghoul-child with a Southern
accent, Gareth haunted a graveyard along with a whole community of adult ghouls
from the Civil War. They delighted in eating people. Gareth, however, was a
nonconformist among ghouls: he preferred to make friends with the living. So,
he packed up his belongings and ventured out into the world, hoping to find
friends.
Even
as a little girl, she hated that cartoon. It came on television every afternoon, and it
terrified her. She would hide behind the couch or run under the bed in her
grandparent’s room, waiting for Clinton Reed to come home. Funny a cartoon cel
would be hanging in the professor’s office. And what was the connection to
Clinton Reed?
The
Professor interrupted her. “Was there something I could help you with, Miss
Reed?”
Abbie
turned to him. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes. I lost my notes for the paper you
assigned us.”
“Interesting.”
He folded his hands together on top the desk. She thought of Miss Larson’s
impression again and smiled. The professor gestured to the seat by his desk.
“What
was the topic again?” Abbie asked as she sat down.
“Were
you not paying attention in class?”
She
wasn’t sure how to answer, and decided to come clean. “I know you said I was
really smart and you expect big things from me, but it’s my twenty-first
birthday tomorrow and I was thinking about that and all and… I’m sorry.”
“Interesting,”
he said again. Then picked up some papers and handed them to her. Abbie saw
that it was a case study. A stapled, twelve page outline of
some college social experiment.
“To
test whether revenge actually makes the victim feel better,” he said, flipping
through his own copy of the case study, “a psychology professor at Colgate
University set-up a group investment game with his students.”
“I
remember you talking about that yesterday.” She looked up from the paper in her
hands. He nodded at her.
“And
do you remember their findings?”
Abbie
shook her head. The Professor continued.
“People who have
been hurt or betrayed hold fast to a belief that if the offender suffers, they
will feel better.” He put down his paper, looking at her. “They believe it will
relieve their emotional pain. But is that true?”
Abbie’s
phone dinged, interrupting the professor. He stopped talking and glanced at
her. Phones were strictly forbidden in his presence—office or classroom. Abbie
gave an embarrassed smile then fished her phone from
her purse.
“I’ll
just turn this off.” She pressed the button to mute the ringer while at the
same time glancing at the screen. It was a text message from McKenzie Thomas.
Abbie set her phone face-down on the desk as the Professor finished his lecture.
Twenty
minutes later, Abbie left his office holding the twelve page case study in one
hand, and her phone in the other. She
read the text message as she walked through the crowded hallway.
It
was from McKenzie Thomas. Abbie typed a response and hit SEND. A moment later,
her phone chirped with a new incoming text message.
Chapter 8
A t best, Abbie felt marginally excited to see McKenzie Thomas again.
Still, a birthday lunch at SoGo Sushi couldn’t be all bad. The little
restaurant had a contemporary décor with neon-lit aquariums and stainless steel
tables. A glass bar lined the back wall with the itamae serving guests behind a
glass case. Japanese folk music beat softly through the room.
Abbie was seated at a table for two. She
turned
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