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follow, but Atticus couldn’t move. His legs felt like they were
made of concrete.
    Eventually, the Ghost left without
him, sprinting away and Atticus losing sight of it.
    His breathing was heavy and his heart
pounded violently, but he couldn’t let the Ghost get away. No more
stalking and sneaking. Atticus had to make a move no matter how
much it terrified him.
    He sprinted as fast as he could in an
attempt to tail the mystery figure, but he wasn’t paying the
closest attention. In his hurry, he crashed into something old and
grouchy, knocking both himself and his professor to the
ground.
    “ Mr. Whaelord, what is the
meaning of this?” Varnum shouted.
    Atticus leapt up to his feet and
looked all around for the Ghost. Sadly, it seemed that the figure
had just vanished. There was nowhere for it to hide unless it
jumped the fence or climbed a building or tree, but there was no
way it was that fast.
    “ Well?”
    “ I-I’m sorry professor.”
Atticus offered his teacher a hand, but Varnum swatted it
away.
    “ I have had it with your
shenanigans, Mr. Whaelord,” Varnum said. He brushed himself off,
but he never let his glare wander from Atticus.
    “ I know professor. I just
thought I saw-”
    “ What? A rodent? A nuisance?
Were you chasing a mirror, Mr. Whaelord?”
    Atticus didn’t say a word.
    “ Goodness gracious! I’m
covered in dirt and grass stains now because of you,” shouted the
professor. “What will the Nelsons think of me now?”
    “ T-The Nelsons?”
    Varnum let out a frustrated sigh and
said, “Principal Shepard and I are meeting with the Nelsons to
discuss a memorial dinner for their son. I thought it would be a
good way to show how much Fortuna Prep cares for its
students.”
    “ But, you don’t care,”
Atticus said. Varnum was silent. “This is just a big publicity
stunt, isn’t it professor? A way to make yourself look good to the
public eye and get the Nelsons some free advertising, am I
correct?”
    Varnum’s face turned bright red. If it
was possible for smoke and fire to shoot from one’s nostrils,
Varnum would’ve done it just then. “How dare you accuse me of such
a thing! I don’t have time for such foolishness! I’m already late
and now thanks to you, Mr. Whaelord, I’m highly unpresentable! You
will make this up to me!”
    “ How about I stay late after
class tomorrow,” Atticus asked. “And at lunch, why don’t I stop by
and help you grade exams?”
    Varnum’s face was starting to return
to its normal color. “That will not be necessary. We’ll discuss it
tomorrow. Now, if you don’t mind.”
    Before Atticus could respond, Varnum
shoved past him and made a straight line toward the faculty office
building.
    That man is hiding something, Atticus
thought. He is involved in some way.
    Atticus made one last glance around
campus, hoping that maybe he could find a hint as to where the
Ghost disappeared to. Sadly, he had no such luck.
    Frustrated and defeated, Atticus
plopped down onto the grass, his face in his hands. He was furious.
He found the Ghost; the one Mike was so afraid of, and the killer.
He didn’t have any evidence, but he just knew it. He knew the
cloaked figure was the killer and he had him in sight. But
Professor Varnum had to come up and ruin it.
    He got to his feet, brushed himself
off and suddenly the gears in his head clanged viciously. Varnum
had appeared right as the Ghost had disappeared. Varnum vanished
when the body was found. Atticus wondered: perhaps the Ghost and
the professor were the same.
    A glimmer caught Atticus’ eye. What
looked like bright white and black gravel lay in a pile where
Varnum had fell. Atticus kneeled down and shuffled the debris into
a small mound and realized that it wasn’t gravel at all, but
instead a broken piece of jewelry.
    “ Was this the professor’s,”
he whispered to himself.
    Atticus looked all around,
making sure no one was in sight and cupped his hands over the
debris. Atticus shut his eyes tightly and