Several seconds pass, although in that moment, time actually feels like it’s standing perfectly still—as does everything else.

I can only stare at Frost with what I’m positive is the most extra-confused, extra-shocked expression that has ever found its way onto anyone’s face in the history of time and existence. I can almost feel my forehead scrunching itself into a million tiny furrows as my eyes stretch themselves as wide as they can behind my glasses. It’s several more seconds before I can say anything, and even then, all I can manage is a strained and barely audible, “What?”

I must have heard him wrong. I simply must have.

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