Page 7 of Solo

“I’m not accepting your homework assignment,” I explain and her eyes widen in disbelief.

“But it’s done,” she protests, her calm exterior cracking all at once. “The assignment is done, Dr. Markham!”

I shrug unsympathetically. “Then you should have made sure it was in on time.”

I watch her take a deep breath, close her eyes for an instant, and start again. “Dr. Markham,” she grits, “I was three minutes late to class. You hadn’t even asked for the assignment yet,” she reminds me.

I shake my head.

“Miss Brenner, I’m done discussing this. You might as well take those papers and dump them in the trash can, because I won’t even consider them at this point. So, I strongly suggest you turn in a spectacular midterm project to help make up for the grade.”

I can see the wheels turning. She’s furious. I’m sure she wants to tell me off, but she knows how close she is to failing my class. And if she wants to graduate on time, if she doesn’t want to spend another year waiting to take this class again, she doesn’t dare risk pissing me off any more than she already has. I’m surprised by what she does dare do, though. Katherine Brenner leans toward me and locks cold, blue eyes onto mine and, for one disconcerting instant, I feel like she can read my thoughts.

“Why do you have to be like this? What’s the point?” she asks with more curiosity than animosity.

“What are you talking about?”

She shrugs.

“I’m a human being, you know? I have a complicated life outside of this classroom. What are you? Four, maybe five years older than me? You were in my shoes not so long ago and you know as well as I do that things happen, Dr. Markham. Things that are out of my control.”

I feel a wave of irritation wash over me. I don’t care how close in age we are. I don’t like being lectured, especially not by one of my students. Especially not by this student.

“Miss Brenner, you are on extremely thin ice here,” I say coolly. “I think you’d better go now before one of us says something we’ll regret.”

She gets up without another word, abandoning her assignment on her desk and walking out the door without so much as a glance back.

Chapter Three

Kate

People tend not to believe in things they can’t see. That is, until they see them. That’s how it was with The Ghost and me. Oh, I knew he existed. I just didn’t believe all the crazy rumors about him. How could I? There were ridiculous tales about freshmen who’d gone missing, evil-eyed curses, and bodies buried in the quad.

His actual name is Russell Atherton and, once upon a time, he was the toast of the classical music world—the next great conductor. But, after the untimely death of his daughter, Russell wasn’t much interested in toasts, conducting, or anything else. He became a hermit in a small cabin, not far from Shepherd University. And he probably would have stayed hidden away from society, had it not been for Maureen Clevenger, Dean of Music at Shepherd, and his ex-wife.

She convinced him to take a token position as Conductor-in-Residence. His worldwide reputation was enough for the university to sign off on the rather unorthodox employment offer. And that was the beginning of The Ghost. He’d walk the halls in the wee hours, startling the crap out of the music students who liked to practice late into the night. Like me.

And, it should be said, Russell Atherton is a creepy looking guy. He’s tall and thin with skin so pale that it practically glows. He has long, silver hair that he wears in a ponytail down the middle of his back. And his pale-blue eyes are so light that they look creepily vacant.

But fear of ghosts wasn’t a luxury I had as a freshman piano major. Not with classes and work taking up all my daytime hours. And, without my own piano at home, I’d spend hours in the practice rooms, occasionally getting to play the Steinway grand piano in the concert hall. That’s where I was the night he caught me “air conducting” on the big stage. I just couldn’t resist hopping up on the conductor’s podium and pretending I was leading an orchestra in a performance of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony. I kicked off my sandals so that I was barefoot, and closed my eyes, hearing the music in my head as I played. When I felt a tap on my shoulder I jumped and gasped, my eyes flying open.

“What’s your name?” he asked gruffly, taking an empty seat in the violin section in front of me.

“K-Kate,” I stammered. “Kate Brenner…”

His eyes narrowed.

“You’re the senator’s kid,” he said.

I nodded.

“Why aren’t you a conducting major?” he asked.

“Because I don’t conduct,” I said, wondering why he would ask such an insane question. Hadn’t he just seen for himself how little I knew about it? That I was just faking it?

He considered me some more before speaking again.

“You do conduct. You just don’t know it. Yet.”