Read Online The Ravens by Vidar Sundstøl - Free Book Online Page B

he wanted to know. If he was going to try to do that, he’d have to get Miller to meet him somewhere else, in some other setting than this one, maybe go to a pub or something. But why would Professor Miller go to a pub with a guy like Lance Hansen? He wouldn’t. But maybe with a girl like Chrissy? But wasn’t Miller gay? At least that was what everyone had said about him in school. And besides, Chrissy was practically a child.
    WHEN THE POETRY READING WAS OVER, the emcee announced that books would be for sale, and the authors would be happy to sign copies. The poets took seats behind a table with stacks of books. The audience members started getting up from their chairs. A few headed for the door, but most looked as if they planned to stay awhile longer.
    “Are you going to buy a book?” asked Chrissy, looking at Lance.
    There was something strange about the look in her eyes.
    “Er, I don’t know,” he replied.
    “But I thought you said you liked Clayton Miller.”
    “Sure, but what should I say?”
    “If you give me the money for a book, I’ll show you how it’s done.”
    Lance hesitated but then shrugged and took out his wallet.
    “How much do you think it costs?”
    “Come on. We’ll find out.” She took his wallet from his hand.
    Together they got up, grabbed their coats, and went over to the table where people had formed a haphazard line to purchase books and get them signed.
    “It’s not really necessary,” said Lance, wanting to leave.
    “But I want to buy a book,” Chrissy insisted.
    Lance pictured Andy finding a book by Clayton Miller on their coffee table.
    “Okay,” he said.
    When it was finally her turn, Chrissy leaned forward as she held her long black hair back from her face. Miller looked up at her and smiled.
    “Hi,” she said shyly. “I’d like to buy a book.”
    “Which one?”
    She pointed at one of them.
    “That one,” she said.
    Miller picked up the slim volume.
    “Siamese Wing Strokes?” he said.
    She nodded.
    “What’s your name?”
    “Chrissy.”
    He quickly wrote a greeting on the first blank page.
    “That’s twenty dollars.”
    Chrissy opened her uncle’s wallet and handed a bill to Miller.
    “Thanks for the poems. They’re great.”
    The professor gave her a brief smile and then turned to look for the next customer as Chrissy slipped behind Lance. Suddenly he felt her hand pressing against his back. She pushed him forward to the table until he was standing in front of Clayton Miller, who looked up at him with an expectant smile.
    “Hello,” he said.
    “I bring you greetings from an old acquaintance,” Lance managed to say, feeling beads of sweat appear on his forehead.
    “Oh, really? Who could that be?”
    “It’s a personal matter,” said Lance in a low voice. “Do you think it’d be possible to have a few words with you in private afterward?”
    Clayton Miller cast a quick glance at his watch.
    “This is probably going to go on for a bit, and I also need to talk to the organizers before I can leave . . .”
    “I’ll wait,” said Lance.
    “Sure. Okay. If you like. But didn’t you want to buy a book?”
    “No, thanks.”
    Lance turned on his heel and saw Chrissy watching him from a short distance away, a tentative smile on her face. He hoped she hadn’t heard what he’d said to Miller.
    “You didn’t buy a book?’ she asked in surprise when he went over to join her.
    “No.”
    “Why not?”
    Lance merely grunted in reply.
    “What?” said Chrissy.
    “Listen . . . I arranged to have a little talk with him when he’s done here. Could you go somewhere else, and then I’ll pick you up later?”
    “A talk with who?”
    “With Miller.”
    “What?”
    Lance nodded, trying to act nonchalant, as if it were perfectly normal for him to be having talks with professors and poets.
    “But what do you want to talk to him about?”
    “Poetry,” said Lance after a slight pause.
    His niece gave him an incredulous look.
    “But why can’t I