They were coming from the rear of the basement, an area she hadn’t yet catalogued.“Philippa, Philippa.”Yes, she was pretty sure the whispers wer... coming from a pile of books in a corner. She looked around. Nobody was there.“Philippa, Philippa.”The whispers seemed to be coming from one of the books. Someone must have found out about her secret hobby and planted an MP3 player down here. It couldn’t be Byron, he was twice her age and distinctly short on technical savvy. But no-one else had access. Not that I minded, really, because, like I said, we bonded. Every day, after I came home from school, she would ask me about my day. I'd tell her about whatever was troubling me, like grades or teachers or just people I plain didn't like, and she would listen to it all and give me advice that could only come from someone who had to deal with it all before. I really liked that she listened, and started to depend on her to help me get through my final year of school.Of course, it certainly helped. More

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