Steelhands - Jaida Jones [125]
“You wrote to Gaeth’s family,” Laure whispered.
“I wrote to his mother, yes,” I replied. I had a strange, chill feeling creeping through my chest, and I glanced at Laure to see if she felt the same way. “I had gloves that belonged to her—I thought I should send them back …”
“You thought you’d meddle, is what you thought,” Laure snapped.
“And it’s a good thing I did, isn’t it?” I asked. “Since now we know Gaeth never did go home.”
“Fat lot of good it does us,” Laure said miserably. “We still don’t know anything. This just makes it worse.”
“Now, be sensible,” I began, but Ducante cleared his throat, signaling a start to the lecture—and an end to all idle chatting.
Needless to say, I was incapable of paying attention to what he had to say. I managed somehow to copy down word for word what he was dictating, but without properly listening to the sound of his voice. It all passed from my ear straight to my pen, without once passing through my brain. That part of me was full of dark and nervous thoughts.
If Gaeth had not gone home, yet those in charge of our dormitory believed he had, then he truly was missing. And with no one aware of it save Laure and me, the chance that he was in danger somewhere seemed greater than ever.
This was too large a matter for the two of us to take care of on our own—and yet I had no one in the city I felt I was able to confide in. If I took this quaint letter to the authorities—I supposed the Provost would be the most likely candidate—I knew without question I would only be laughed at. What evidence did I have? Who was Gaeth to them? Could I explain that the boy had been hearing voices before he disappeared—and back up that evidence with Laure’s situation? I most certainly could not.
The more I went over my suspicions in my head, the more dangerous they seemed to me, yet the sillier I knew they’d seem to someone else. And still, I felt the keen sense of responsibility driving me to find some solution—for Gaeth’s sake.
Where in Regina’s name was he?
I was tangled up in my thoughts when I heard the bell chime. My hand was cramping with how quickly I’d been taking notes, and I managed to ease my grip on my pen just as Hal took over speaking for Ducante.
“… if there’s anything you need help with,” he said in his kind, easy voice, “don’t hesitate to ask. Even if it’s not about the research or the studying—I’m here to talk, if need be.”
I felt as though a lamp had been lit suddenly over my head. In all the time I’d spent watching him—and with how carefully I had conducted my study of his behavior and his habits—I knew he would not be the sort of person to laugh at someone when they felt their companion was in need. If I took my concerns to him, perhaps he might know—from official class roster—whether or not Gaeth had withdrawn or made some excuse to the professor regarding his prolonged absence.
I rose at once from my seat, ignoring Laure’s questions as I pushed past the crowd of students desperate to escape the lecture hall.
This, I realized just before I arrived at Hal’s desk, would mark the very first occasion I had actually convinced myself to speak with him. It seemed easier somehow to do it because it was not on my own behalf but someone else’s.
He was in the middle of stacking a few heavy books, and his back was facing me; I could have cleared my throat to let him know I was there, but suddenly I was seized with uncertainty and panic, and by the time I managed to wrestle control of myself, he had already turned around.
“Hello there,” he said, offering me a quizzical smile. I stared back at him, aware my mouth was hanging open. “Is there something I can do for you?”
Gaeth had saved me, I recalled, on that fateful day when I’d had my heart irreversibly crushed by the impossibility of ever getting to know Hal as I’d once wished. Now it seemed it was my duty to do