Of Breakable Things by A. Lynden Rolland Page A

couldn’t admit the truth. He wouldn’t, because the moment was ruined. It wouldn’t be perfect. It was a mess.
    And so he snatched the note from Becca and shoved it in his pocket. And with it, he tucked away his feelings. He stuffed it deep in his pocket, somewhere down there with his pride.
     
    ***
     
    Pride. Professor Van Hanlin worried it would be his demise.
    He was not a teacher by choice. He’d spent the better part of a century highly ranked in the office of the Legem Patrol, a corps of spirits who dedicated their afterlives to maintaining order, justice, and peace. The Patrol was his life, his purpose, and because of one mishap, he’d been demoted to a measly law professor. Granted, it had been a rather costly mishap. That meant he was doomed to spend his time preaching to generations of arrogant teenagers who considered themselves to be above the law simply because their souls were strong enough to exist in the afterworld. What’s worse, the professors rotated the obligation to debrief the latest newburies in a workshop so cleverly named “Intro.” The most recent batch of dead kids had been assigned to him, and although it was safe to say he didn’t look forward to the workshop, the children were less horrid than some newburies he’d encountered in the past.
    The only part of his job that he loved was his classroom. Secluded at the far end of the third floor, it was monstrous and impressive, and it made the mere four newburies in attendance seem that much smaller. Chocolate-brown stadium tiers stood proudly on the lovely navy carpet of the circular hall. The layers of seating overlooked the generous podium for the teacher. When he entered the room that morning, he didn’t even bother to greet the students. He set down his briefcase and promptly wrote floccinaucinihilipilification in large letters on the chalkboard. They’d know what to do.
    He dusted off his hands, looked up at his newburies and nearly choked noticing a girl in the middle row. His first instinct was to laugh. Someone must have gone to great lengths to pull off such a joke. He swiveled back to the board for a moment. No, if this was a joke, it was a cruel one. Anguish took over. Maybe he’d imagined her sitting there. Maybe he was losing his mind. Was it possible for a ghost to see a ghost? When he faced the class again, there she was, frowning at the word with a face identical to that of the girl who had cost him his previous job.
    It wasn’t until Madison Constance started explaining the directions to the girl that Van Hanlin accepted her as real. He’d been just as baffled when Erin Ash arrived nearly two decades ago. This new girl was the spitting image. Anything short of witchcraft would make her appearance impossible. He knew all too well how valuable she was. The entire city had been hysterical after Erin Ash’s arrival, but it was nothing compared to how they’d reacted to her disappearance. They must be keeping quiet about this girl, because he’d heard nothing about her. Or perhaps, considering the circumstances, they only decided to keep him in the dark.
    “We have a new student,” he said, trying desperately to stop his hands from shaking. “I’m Professor Van Hanlin.”
    He realized his tone wasn’t welcoming at all. It was suspicious. The imp of a girl tried to smile, but likely found it difficult to do so under his surveillance.
    “Welcome … ?”
    “Alex,” she replied. “Alex Ash.”
    Another Ash.
    “As your peers are aware, I am the law professor here on campus. In this introductory workshop, we will cover the basics. General questions and such, enough to get you accustomed to life here.” He circled the word on the chalkboard. “Do your best to brainstorm the given term.”
    Alex Ash gaped at her classmates when she saw that they were scribbling notes on their papers. Certainly floccinaucinihilipilification was not a term she used in regular conversation. He watched her glance at the word again, and