There were no lights in the hallway, and I couldn’t judge how far it went or what lay at the end. But seeing no other option, I decided to enter the narrow passage when the door I had been banging at swung open.
“Why is this light on?” A deep voice asked, footsteps echoing around the room. “Is someone in here?” I heard the door swing closed again.
I twisted toward my rescuer with a grin.
“Yes! Um, I am. Hi.” I backtracked through the plastic sheet, giving him an awkward wave as I parted the curtain. I had expected to see a construction worker. Instead I saw a man wearing a well-tailored suit, a silk tie, and an unfriendly scowl.
“You seem to have taken a wrong turn,” the deep voice rumbled. “This area is off limits for students.”
“I got lost trying to turn in my paperwork,” I explained, gesturing to my folders.
His scowl turned into something almost like a smile. “Ah, you were looking for Lesley’s office.”
“Um… yeah. I’m one of her interns, Yara Silva.”
“Ah, yes. Of course. I’m Mr. Crosby. The assistant headmaster.” He stuck out his hand and shook mine. I vaguely remembered him as one of the speakers at the internship party. Up close, I judged him to be in his mid-forties with black hair, gray lining the edges of his temples, and cool blue eyes.
“Right.”
“Nice to meet you, Yara.” He gave me a full-on politician smile, and my memory of him at the party became sharper. I remembered that grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You have?”
“Yes, I had to approve all the internships. Several alumni wanted to work with you. But thanks to your organizational skills, Headmaster Farnsworth decided to place you here. But students aren’t supposed to be in this area. A student in our construction zone could wreak havoc on our insurance policy.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to go anywhere I wasn’t supposed to. My paperwork fell and the door locked behind me when I went to pick it up.”
“Ah,” he said, still sporting that too-wide grin. “It’s a good thing for you I was checking out the progress on the construction in this area, or you could have been stuck in here for a long time. This room has very thick walls. I doubt anyone would have heard you call for help.”
“Oh.” I took an involuntary step toward the door. “That would’ve been bad.”
“Indeed.” Mr. Crosby checked his watch. “Be more careful from now on. Let’s get you out of here.” He pulled out a ring of keys, walked me back to the door, and unlocked it. “I apologize for this. We really need to put a sign outside, to let people know it’s a construction zone.” He held the door open for me and gestured for me to step outside. He grabbed a large cinder block and propped the door open. “Would you ask Lesley to come see me on your way out?”
“Of course. Nice to meet you.” I shook his hand again.
“Likewise. I’m sure I’ll see you again soon.”
v
When I got back to my room, I felt exhausted. But then I flipped on the light and my mouth fell open. It looked like a tornado had hit. Drawers had been opened and ransacked, all of the clothes in my closet had been dropped on my bed and paper carpeted the floor. The smell of Cherie’s perfume was heavy in the air, so thick I could almost taste it.
What had happened? Had the guys following me found my room? Was Cherie okay? I stepped forward, my legs feeling like over-cooked spaghetti noodles.
“Cherie?”
Something thudded behind me. I jumped around to find an open-mouthed Cherie standing in the doorway, her backpack at her feet.
“Were we robbed?” she asked.
I threw myself at her, hugging her tight. “I was afraid you were here when it happened.”
She pushed past me and circled our room, her fingers trailing over her ripped band posters, her pillow that had been de-stuffed and her overturned jewelry box. “What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
Cherie ground her teeth, looking completely ticked off. “I’m going to go get Mercedes and Mrs. Hewett.”
She took off down the hall and I stood alone in our room. My journal lay open on my desk, the cheap lock busted. It surprised me to see it there. I never thought anyone would find it in the false bottom of my jewelry box. I flipped through it, feeling violated. The ragged remains of ripped pages stuck out from the broken spine. It didn’t contain the normal juicy teenage secrets about making-out or school gossip. I wouldn’t even call it a diary. Mostly it contained things I had learned from Vovó over the summer about being a Waker: herbal blends and medical tips she had shared with me.
But there were other secrets I had hidden there: my experiences from last year, my fear of water, my abilities, Brent’s abilities. Goosebumps formed on my arms and my head pounded hard at the base of my skull. I couldn’t stand being alone in the room anymore. I retreated to the hallway and slumped against the glossy-painted cinder-block walls.
Mrs. Hewett, the dorm mom, walked toward me, followed by Cherie and Mercedes, the resident advisor for our floor. After inspecting the damage, she gave me a tight hug, like my own mom would have done, telling Mercedes to call campus security. Mrs. Hewett escorted Cherie and me downstairs to her personal suite of rooms.
We sat on her comfortable, floral-patterned sofa, drinking hot chocolate while the police and campus security nosed around. The warm liquid heated up my chilled insides. I hadn’t realized I was shaking until Mrs. Hewett tucked a blanket around Cherie and me. I felt surprisingly calm, almost numb, as if our room-trashing had only been a dream. The police questioned us briefly, asking us what had been stolen. With the room torn to shreds, it was hard to tell.
Not sure if it might be related, I told them about how Brent and I had been followed the night before—although I left out the fact that it had been after curfew. I also brought up DJ and the envelope of pictures, but aside from that, I had nothing else to offer. The detectives asked Mrs. Hewett to call Brent and have him bring over the photos. When asked if I knew anyone who would have a reason to hurt me, I couldn’t think of a single person.
Brent showed up a few minutes later, and just seeing him warmed the cold inside me. He gave me a worried look and handed the detective the envelope of pictures. He moved to sit down beside me but a detective pulled him aside and asked to speak with him. Brent kept glancing my way while the man jotted a few things down in a notebook.
When they finished, Brent turned toward me, but Mrs. Hewett stopped him with her words. “Thank you, Brent. You may return to your room now.” Though polite, it was clearly an order.
“I was going to make sure Yara was okay.”
“As you can see, she’s fine. I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
Brent nodded and turned to go, but I thought I saw a slight smile play across his face. I was about to protest, but before I could get a single word out, Brent projected. I joined him and ran across the room into his arms. Over Brent’s shoulder, Mrs. Hewett stood frozen. Even though time had paused, it still felt weird to be snuggling with my boyfriend in front of her. He hugged me tight before pulling back, his brown eyes searching my hazel ones. “How are you really doing?”
“I’m doing okay. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t freaked. We were followed, I saw DJ, my room got trashed.”
Brent’s arms tensed around me. “Wait? Hold up. You saw DJ?”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Yeah. Didn’t I tell you?”
“No.” Brent’s jaw clenched. “When did you see him?”
“At the Alumni House.”
“I don’t like this.” Brent shoved his fingers through his hair. “None of it makes sense to me. What do they want?”
“I don’t know. They took some pages from my Waker journal.”
Brent’s bottom teeth chewed on his upper lip. “I feel weak and blind when it comes to that ghost stuff. I don’t feel like I’m strong enough to protect you.”
I raised my hand to his cheek and le
t my fingers caress his face. “I’ve been learning to protect myself from ghosts. And you did protect me from Sophia.”
“I know. And if I hadn’t been there, you would have been okay.” I wasn’t so sure about that but decided it might not be the best time to contradict him. Brent let his eyelids slide closed. “But ghosts aren’t the problem this time.”
I shivered. “That’s the part that scares me.”
“Please be careful.” He tucked my head under his chin, his breath tickling my scalp. “No unnecessary risks.”
“I promise. The same goes for you.”
“Agreed.”
Being in his arms brought me a feeling of peace and safety I couldn’t find anywhere else in the world. I’m not sure how long we stayed like that but I held him close until I felt brave again, until the unease in my chest loosened. When we were both ready we separated and went back to our bodies. Brent gave me a wink before turning and leaving.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I called after him.
I felt so much better than I had before projecting; I was almost surprised to see the detectives still on the chairs across from me, poised to keep asking me questions.
Velasco, the female detective, was younger than her partner, with dark hair and friendly brown eyes that didn’t seem to miss anything. “The burglary may have nothing to do with the pictures or being followed, but,” she glanced at her notes, “for the time being we’re going to assume they’re related.”
Roberts, her partner, looked at the wording on the back of the picture. “What, exactly, is it that they know you can do?” His thick mustache was tinged with the same gray streaks as his close-cropped hair.
My life always seemed to come back to this one truth. Cherie took my hand and gave it a reaffirming squeeze.
“I can see ghosts.”
They both paused in their note-taking, but neither burst out laughing like I thought they might. Their facial expressions didn’t even change, but Roberts cleared his throat. “Okay. Well. Are you thinking a ghost did this?”
“No.” The corners of my mouth twitched. I bet that was the first time he had to ask that question. “The men following us were very solid. Brent can’t see ghosts and he saw them too.”
“That’s good.” Robert gave me a grin. “I was always rather fond of that friendly ghost.”
Velasco leaned forward, tapping her notebook against her knee. “There isn’t a lot we can go on right now. We’ve dusted for fingerprints, interviewed your neighbors and we’ll be checking the security footage. Police work isn’t like the movies; it takes time. My advice is to be careful, be aware, and call if something feels off. Here’s my card; don’t hesitate to call. And if you can’t reach us, call 911. Trust your gut. If something feels wrong, call.”
A few minutes later Mr. Crosby came into the room, carrying a box of pizza and some soda. He walked over to us, worry lines creasing his face. “I just saw what’s left of your room. Are you two alright?” His eyes flicked between Cherie and me.
“As okay as we can be,” Cherie said.
“Are you Mr. Farnsworth?” Velasco asked.
“No, I’m Mr. Crosby, Assistant Headmaster. I was sent by Headmaster Farnsworth to make sure that the girls were okay and give you whatever assistance you need.” Mr. Crosby turned to us and continued, “The headmaster wanted to come himself, but an issue came up with maintenance, and he had to see to it. I figured you didn’t get a chance to eat and I thought you might need something.” He handed us the pizza and sodas.
“We do have some questions for you, Mr. Crosby, if you don’t mind.” Roberts stood and motioned for Mr. Crosby to follow him.
Mr. Crosby gave us a friendly smile—one missing the usual political veneer I had seen. “We truly are sorry girls. We’ll do our best to make sure nothing like this ever happens again.”
We thanked him as we dug into the pizzas. Mr. Crosby followed Roberts out into the hall.
My slice was warm with a soft, buttery crust. Mozzarella cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth, burning it, but I kept shoveling the pizza in. It wasn’t as high on my comfort food list as Mexican food and chocolate, but pizza was a close third.
By the time the detectives left, my eyes wanted nothing more than to fall shut. Mercedes had brought our backpacks, toothbrushes, and pajamas down to the spare room in Mrs. Hewett’s suites. I was glad we weren’t staying in our room. I didn’t think I could handle that right now. Mrs. Hewett had done a couple loads of laundry for us, washing the things that had been dumped on the floor. I cringed to think of some stranger pawing through my underwear. I wanted to call my mom and dad but it was almost eleven and I knew that all it would do was upset them. Not to mention, I was fine. Well, for the most part.
By unspoken agreement, Cherie and I huddled side by side under a blanket, our backs against the wall on one of the beds, and our legs hanging off the edge.
“You know, if they were searching for something, they could have done it better. That was sloppy,” Cherie said, bringing the blanket up to her chin. “They wanted us to know they’d been there. Part of it had to be intimidation.”
“Well, it worked.” I let my head fall back against the wall. “You know what else happened today? I saw DJ. And I’m pretty sure someone went through my backpack.”
I thought about that and changed my statement. “Okay, I’m not sure of that, but I know I didn’t unzip it while I was there, and later it was open. DJ has to be involved, right? That’s too much coincidence.”
“He’s my number one suspect. I need to do something or I’m going to lose it.” Cherie threw the blanket off and paced around the room. “What are the odds that DJ shows up, your backpack gets inspected, and our room gets ransacked on the same day?”
“Unless they’re somehow connected, not very high.” I watched Cherie burn off her nervous energy by doing jumping jacks. “Do you think they found what they were looking for?”
Cherie stopped. “It’s hard to tell, but I doubt they only wanted your journal entries.”
“You’re probably right. I wish I knew what they wanted. Then maybe we could figure out who they are.”
“Don’t worry; I live for solving mysteries.”
“Which is very lucky for me.” I twisted the blanket in my hand considering all the mysteries we needed to solve.
“Don’t you forget it.” Cherie threw herself on the other bed. “There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight.”
The adrenaline that had pushed aside my exhaustion was fading and my body was about to collapse, but my mind was far from sleepy. “Me either.”
“How about a manicure?” Cherie flopped her arm over her eye. “It’ll give me something to do.”
“Sure.” I stood up and unzipped my backpack that had been left on the desk by my bed. I rummaged through my lip gloss, compact, and eye shadows until I found my favorite nail polish shade: persimmon red.
I stretched out my hand and handed it to Cherie. She skillfully applied the bright color and I watched her in silence.
“Were you lying to the cops?” Cherie asked, as she guided the brush over my nails. Catching my confused look, she clarified, “You really don’t think a ghost did that to our room?”
“No. A powerful one can move stuff, but it would have taken more energy than they have to destroy our room that thoroughly.”
Cherie dipped the brush into the bottle to get more color. “I’m sort of used to ghosts attacking, but to think someone alive did this? It freaks me out.” She stuck out the tip of her tongue as she concentrated.
“I know. You expect ghosts to be scary, but it turns out the people we pass on the street are the real monsters.”
“Sad, but true.” Cherie screwed the lid back on the bottle of polish. “Finished.”
I curled my nails and blew across them, waving my hand back and forth, then stretched them out to examine them. I expected the bright persimmon color to leap out at me, but they looked like they had no polish on t
hem at all.
“What in the world?” I brought my nails closer to my face, trying to figure out what had happened.
“What?”
I held out my hand to her and she did a double take. “What about the other hand?”
The lush red lacquer glimmered from each of my nails on my right hand. We stared at each other in silence for a few seconds.
“Let’s try that again,” Cherie suggested. She painted each nail very carefully, even adding an extra layer. I kept my eyes trained on my nails the entire time. The polish went on exactly as it should have, but after a few seconds the color drained away, like it was being absorbed into my skin.
I gasped, my eyebrows rose so high they practically touched my hairline. A horrible sensation somewhere between dread and absolute terror cha-cha’d up my spine. In a horror movie, scary music would have played.
Cherie tapped the closed polish bottle against her palm. “That is one of the freakiest things I’ve ever seen.”
“Right?” It was one thing to be attacked by a ghost. It was another to have your body defy the laws of physics.
“Do you think it’s because of a ghost?”
My eyes darted around the room and my anxiety went on red alert. “I’m not sure how it could be, but it’s the only thing that makes sense.” I let out a frustrated sigh.
Cherie attempted to smile. “I’d love to see what your grandma has to say about it.”
“I’m sure she’ll know what’s going on. Between my hand being numb half the time and this…” I let my words trail off, not wanting to finish the sentence. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
v
I didn’t plan to fall asleep. Between the bizarro nail polish and our room being ransacked, I didn’t think it’d happen. But I must have dozed off, because the following morning I woke with a terrible crick in my neck and my left wrist tingling again. Cherie was still asleep in the other bed, snuggling with her body pillow.