Page 95 of The Other Side of Green

I doubted that somehow, but kept my mouth closed.

“And we’ve got some students who really could do with some of the Jack Cross magic. They aren’t quite excelling the way I thought they would.”

“You want me to work with the students who shouldn’t actually be here?”

“See you get it!”

I stared at him. “I feel like I’m being punished for something I haven’t done. I had nothing to do with how the Collins family chose their applications. And I am definitely not a racist.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m just saying that I don’t want you to get to the point of applying for your PhD—which by the way has to be done within the next few months—and there is something that stops you being accepted.”

“Like people thinking I got my job because of Miriam Collins.”

He shrugged, in that totally that thing way.

“Fine. Give me the list of students, but as soon as this has died down, I want my old responsibilities back.”

He waved me off, staring down at his leather diary in front of him. “I’ll email it over. I’ll see you in class later. It will be good to be back to all our routines.”

“Sure will.” I grimaced with my lie and swung out the door, dropping my coffee cup half full in his wastepaper basket on the way.

With nothing to do apart from prep for the afternoon lecture, which would mean organizing the room, checking the music and sound system were all in place, I went off for a wander. Lyra had to be about here somewhere. After searching the practice rooms which had no sign of her, I wandered toward the library.

Halfway up the steps, my cell rang. Evan.

“You’re awake!”

“Of course I’m awake, I have a job to keep.” The words sat a little uneasy.

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just Greene fussing.”

Evan chuckled for a moment before cutting it short and getting straight to the point. “So?”

“So what?”

“How was it? First night of not being brother/sister, about to get murdered by her brother.”

“Fine.”

“Fine… that doesn’t sound quite what I was expecting.”

“Fine, and I’m not telling you anything.”

“Dickweed.”

“Whatever.”

“So have your heard from your mom or new daddy yet?”

I hadn’t had time to fill Evan in on the finer details, but he knew enough of the basics I’d shared in the rush I’d made to get back to Boston.

“No.”

“What did you tell, Lyra?”

“Nothing yet.”