The Strangely Beautiful Tale Of Miss Percy Parker by Leanna Renee Hieber Page A

merely daydreamed the minutes into oblivion? There had been two full days of classes between tutorials, two days she did not actively remember. She had only thoughts of him. And, oddly, she recalled the rumbling and constant bark of a dog.
    At room sixty-one, Percy knocked. The idea that she might be living solely for the moments spent in the professor’s private company concerned her; her entire body had thrilled in class today when he’d asked her to visit.
    “Come,” the unmistakable voice called from within.
    Percy entered the office yet hovered at the door, waiting for an invitation to sit. The professor sat writing at his desk and did not glance up. He had replaced his professorial robe with a long black frock coat and new cravat, a cloth of a distinct shade of crimson that hung slightly askew. He waved a hand to the chair opposite. Percy slowly took that seat, silent.
    The professor set his papers aside. Percy could see him parceling her by pieces: her snow-white face with length of scarf about her head, her high-collared dress, gloves and tinted glasses. Percy watched him watch her and was prepared for more questions.
    “Before we begin today, may I ask, Miss Parker—?”
    “About my appearance, sir?”
    The professor tried to smooth the pause that followed with a strained, unsuccessful smile. He said nothing.
    “Ask anything you wish, Professor. You may stare in wonder. Gape, even. I’ve grown accustomed to it all.”
    “I hope you would not consider me so rude,” her instructor retorted.
    Percy offered a conciliatory smile and was appalled by the subsequent spots she felt bloom upon her cheeks like fiery carnations. “Of course not, Professor. I did not…I mean, you have never gazed at me in a way…in that way…Imean, in a rude manner. I—” The words had tumbled forth, but now her gloved hand flew to her lips to stop the hemorrhage. Terrified that her private fascination could be seen through her awkwardness of speech and the transparency of her skin, Percy prayed she would not be sent away immediately. Humiliated, she took a long breath and tried to begin anew. “I was born with this skin, Professor. I’m well in health, my pallor has never been indicative of my constitution. Except, of course, that while I do enjoy sunlight, it isn’t very kind to me.”
    “I see. And the glasses?” Professor Rychman asked.
    “I have quite sensitive eyes as well, sir.”
    “Ah. I hope you find yourself comfortable here? In my office?”
    “Yes, thank you. I’ve always been most comfortable by candlelight.”
    The professor nodded. “It’s always more of dusk than daylight in here, as I tend toward the nocturnal.” He plucked a book from behind his desk and leafed through the pages, not glancing up at her.
    “As do I, sir. The night is full of mystery and magic—though sometimes the magic may tend toward nightmare. My stars of birth are governed by the moon.”
    “Ah, we have a romantic in our midst. And an astrologer as well?” Percy could not tell if the professor’s tone was cordial or disdainful. His expression, however, was stern. “Before we continue, Miss Parker, I must find a more basic guide than the one I previously gave you—your work in class over the past few days has shown several new deficiencies. If you have any interest, you may peruse my library while I look for something suitable.”
    Percy winced. Never before had she been the handicapped student; she’d always excelled. Nevertheless, she rose and glided across the room while the professor hunted for what she felt sure would be a grade-school primer.
    As she expected, many shelves were devoted to mathematics and the sciences, natural and arcane. She was delighted to discover various books of drama as well, including a Compleat Works of Shakespeare, and the collected works of other great poets. But what engaged her most was a particular shelf bookended by Pythagoras and Liebniz. In the middle of these treatises by academia’s