My forehead wrinkled. “What about when you fought the Clutch? You controlled them; they stopped fighting and turned themselves in. The entire group.”
“Yes, but that was only for a short period of time. And not all of them listened. Crosby went after Brent with a knife.”
She had a valid point, but so did I. “Still, you ordered the Clutch to leave us alone and all but one listened.”
“That was only controlling one aspect of them, not their whole being.”
This conversation was making my head hurt. It felt like we were talking in circles. “If I can get the Pendrell student guy to cross over, I’d only have two to deal with.”
“Never assume. We don’t know for sure she only has three compelled ghosts. There could be more.”
I didn’t want to think about that. I just wanted to pretend Crosby only had three spirits working for him. I let out a huff of air that sent my bangs flying.
“At least there would be one less trying to attack me. I’ll start with what I know. I need to get online and skim through the obituaries.”
I fingered the burn on my arm and thought about that Pendrell spirit. My only choices were to free him or die trying. I really preferred option one.
A few hours later, I found his name: Grady White. He’d died of an insulin overdose, but after reading an interview his mother did with the local paper, I suspected it wasn’t that simple.
According to Mrs. White, her son was incredibly meticulous about his dosages and always double-checked the supply before each injection, especially after one of his best friends almost died from accidentally switching his morning and evening doses. Which is exactly what happened to Grady. Since he was now at Crosby’s beck and call, I seriously doubted his mix-up was an accident.
I was searching the Internet for more information on Grady when my cell phone started to play Brent’s familiar ring tone. I snatched it up and answered with a smile.
“Hey, how is it going with your mom?”
“Not great. I don’t think I’ll make it back to your place tonight.” Brent sounded so tired, like all of the drama he’d been avoiding with his parents had finally caught up to him and tackled him to the ground.
“That bad, huh?”
“She isn’t doing well, Yara. I’m really worried about her.” He lowered his voice as if concerned about being overheard. “My dad played pretty dirty in the divorce.”
The guilt in his voice weighed on my conscience. Did he really think he was being disloyal to me by being there for his mom?
“You don’t have to explain. Your mom needs you.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m abandoning you for her.”
I hated that he felt he had to choose. His parents had been struggling to hold onto Brent and each other after the death of Neil, their oldest son. Running off to Brazil right after graduation hadn’t helped the situation. Now their relationship wasn’t just strained, it was practically broken.
I didn’t want to be the cause of any more problems, at least where his mom was concerned. His father was a different story. He’d dug his own grave by agreeing to work with Crosby in the first place.
“You’re not abandoning anyone. You’re her son.”
“Thanks, but it’s not just that.” I could hear a door shutting behind him. “Every minute I don’t know where you are, I worry something’s happened to you.”
“Brent—”
“Crosby is after you. That guy doesn’t hold back.”
“I know, but I’ll be fine.” I spun in my desk chair. “You haven’t seen your mom in three years. Spend some time with her.”
I could picture him biting his nails. “Yeah, I guess. Plus, if that scroll doesn’t have what we hope it does… I just want to know I tried to make everything okay.”
My chest tightened and I had to force air into my lungs. “No. Don’t do this because you’re afraid you’re going to die, you do it because you want to, because you love her. Don’t you dare start thinking like that, Brent Springsteed!”
“Yara.” He sighed. “It could happen. You know that.”
I stopped spinning my chair and let my head fall back against my bedroom wall. “There’s still hope.”
“Of course there is, and I’m holding onto every bit of it, but hope isn’t certainty. I just…” His voice trailed off. “I love you, Yara.”
I sniffed and cleared my throat before speaking. “I love you, too.”
“Don’t cry. I can’t do anything about it from this far away.” His words made me sniff again.
“Fine,” I managed to get out. “But then we need to talk about something else.”
He hesitated like he was having a hard time seeing past the heavy conversation we’d just had. “Yeah, sure. Um, make any headway today?”
“Some. I thought I would go to Pendrell tomorrow to talk to Headmaster Farnsworth. He might have some more recent info on the Clutch and Crosby. If anyone knows what Crosby is up to, it’s Farnsworth.”
Brent whistled. “That’s a good plan. Gorgeous and smart. I’m a lucky guy.” I smiled. “What time are you thinking?”
“The office hours were always at eleven when we were there, so I thought that would probably be the best time to catch him.”
“Count me in. I’ll meet you at Pendrell, okay?”
“Are you sure? Shouldn’t you spend some more time with your mom?” Even as I asked, I hoped he’d decide to come. The idea of going to our old school didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What good ever came from stepping foot on a cursed campus?
“She’ll be at work. If I stayed here I’d only be spending time with my old Playstation. Which is actually kinda tempting.”
I laughed because I knew not even video games would keep him away from Pendrell tomorrow. We talked for a while and finally said goodbye. After I hung up I realized I had forgotten to tell him about Grady, and wondered if I should call him back and tell him. No, that wasn’t something he needed to worry about. He had enough on his plate. I’d mention it to him tomorrow. Or maybe I just wouldn’t bring it up. He didn’t need something else to worry about. Yes, it made me a hypocrite, but what good would giving him more to worry about accomplish?
Chapter 6
“Were we really that young?” Brent asked.
We stood on the edge of Pendrell’s campus watching the uniform-clad high school students scurry across campus on their lunch break. It felt like longer than three years since we had been part of the student body.
“Yeah. Hard to believe though.”
Brent laced his fingers through mine as we walked toward the administration office. The bracelets I wore tinkled together as I walked. They not only looked cute, they—like my high-necked shirt—helped conceal my still healing bruises. I’d show them to Brent and Farnsworth when we started talking about ghosts but didn’t want the unwanted attention they might otherwise bring.
“Hopefully their time here will be easier than ours. I mean, you died, I was body snatched, the Clutch, Sophia . . . ” Brent shook his head. “And they say high school is the best four years of your life.”
I laughed. High school years were usually drama filled, but Brent’s and mine took that to a whole new level.
I squeezed his hand as we started up the administration steps, my eyes locked on the bronze figure at the head of the steps. Someone had repaired the damage we’d done to the statue of Christopher Pendrell.
Memories—good, bad, and downright scary—danced before my eyes. Panicked flashbacks of my drowning hit me, making my pulse race. I thought my connection with water would have erased the terror. Apparently not. It took the full three-minute walk to the Headmaster’s office for my heart rate to return to normal.
The secretary looked up from her computer as we entered the waiting room. Not the same secretary I remembered.
“May I help you?” she asked with a polite smile.
The décor of the office had changed. Instead of dark woods and plush leather ch
airs, it looked more sleek and modern with clean lines and lighter colors.
Brent gave her a winning smile. “We were wondering if Headmaster Farnsworth had time to visit with some of his former students.”
“He loved those types of visits,” she said, her eyes misting a little. “But I’m afraid he’s no longer the Headmaster.”
Okay, I didn’t expect that.
“Did he retire?” I asked.
A sad expression flitted across her face as she nodded. “Yes, he did.”
“Is there any way we could get a hold of him?” I asked.
She hesitated before shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m not able to give out that information. I wish I could help.”
“It’s okay.” Brent helped himself to one of the candies on her desk. “Have a good day.”
We turned to leave and took a few steps before the secretary spoke up again.
“You might be able to talk to Mr. Owens. He and Mr. Farnsworth spent a lot of time together before Mr. Farnsworth retired. He’s in charge of the Crosby election campaign on campus.”
I couldn’t have heard her right. “Crosby campaign?”
“He’s one of our most celebrated alumni. Half of our seniors are working for Mr. Crosby’s campaign for their internships.”
Brent and I exchanged an uneasy glance. Luckily the secretary didn’t notice.
“Mr. Owens is probably over at the campaign headquarters in the alumni house right now.”
In stunned silence, we left the office. How had Mr. Crosby wiggled his way back onto campus? Farnsworth never would have allowed him on the property. Had Crosby replaced him with someone he could control?
The class bell rang as we headed back toward my car. My thoughts raced as we weaved between students. I had been searching for Crosby without any real leads and all the time he had been here. I should have known. It seemed that all the creepy things in my life led to Pendrell.
I stopped and changed my route, heading toward the alumni house. Brent must have been thinking the same thing because he followed without a single question.
The pink-tinged, sandstone alumni building hadn’t changed. The red, gabled roof and tall, multi-paned windows still looked brand new. The only notable difference was an obnoxious banner announcing the headquarters for Crosby’s campaign plastered to the front.
I ducked my head as a group of students passed and Bent rocked back on his heels.
“This building is the bane of my existence,” he said simply.
I had to agree.
“Are you trying to get yourselves killed?” Someone shouted into my ear. I jumped about a foot into the air as DJ appeared, glaring at me. Brent tensed beside me, on guard for what had startled me.
“What is it? What’s going on?”
“DJ,” I said for Brent’s benefit as I turned to meet DJ’s scowl. “I couldn’t believe Crosby was welcomed back. I had to see if for myself.”
“Well, there it is! You can see it fine from here. Now go.” DJ looped his arm around my shoulder, trying to turn me toward the parking lot.
I refused to budge. “How did this happen? I thought we at least got him to leave the Pendrell students alone. Is he here now?”
DJ shook his head. “No, this is just where his political team meets. I’ve never spotted him.”
“But why would he come back after everything that happened?”
DJ cursed under his breath. “I don’t know! Maybe he’s just used to the campus. It’s where he learned about the Clutch. Plus the student internships mean a lot of free labor.”
“And a place to find kids who can project,” I said as I watched a group of boys enter the building and get swallowed by the shadows inside.
DJ crinkled his nose like he’d smelled something bad. “Probably.” He groaned and turned toward the building. “I really can’t believe you can stand to be here after everything that went down the night we lost the journals.” DJ frowned at the building. “We pretty much failed all around.”
“Yeah, that was an epic failure.” I sighed. “The American Wakers are still angry about the barrier.”
Brent bumped his hip into mine. “Not your fault.”
I studied the building and felt a chill race down my spine. “It doesn’t matter whose fault it is. We’ll get him this time. We have to.”
“Yes. Fine. Go, team Yara. Now please leave.” DJ, his arm still around my shoulder, tugged me forward. “He has ghosts out to get you. Standing in the open surrounded by his supporters is not the best way to keep yourself alive.”
DJ walked beside us until we reached the car. I tried to ignore the feeling that someone was watching me.
“And stop looking for Crosby,” DJ said. “I’m doing that. You watch out for the spirit world and I’ll watch out for Crosby.”
With that last piece of advice he disappeared.
That night Brent took me to Miguel’s Jr. I’d been craving their bean and cheese burrito for months, so he made a big production of the trip. The radio was pre-set to my favorite jazz station and he’d even handed me a bag of Skittles with all of the green ones picked out.
All those sweet gestures almost made me forget our unsettling visit to Pendrell. I almost wept for joy as I took my first bite of my burrito. We sat at a two-person table near the back entrance that had an uninspiring view of the fast food restaurant next door. My boyfriend waited until my mouth was full before springing his news.
“So my mom wants you to come over to her house for dinner.”
I almost choked. “I’m sorry. Is there a punch line to that joke?”
“No. She wants you to come over.”
I put down my precious burrito, no longer hungry. “Are you serious? Did the earth start spinning backwards?”
Brent reached out and brushed back a tuft of staticky hair from my face. As vain as it sounded, I looked forward to taking Crosby out, if for no other reason than to stop my hair from looking like a cartoon character who’d been struck by lighting.
“She says she wants to start over,” Brent said.
“I really doubt that.” I took a sip of my water. “She hates me.”
“I’m not saying she likes you—“
“Great.”
“—but she wants to get to know you.”
Lucky me. “When did this transformation take place?”
He slid his hand across the gray-flecked table until it rested against mine. “She threatened to take away my trust fund if I didn’t break up with you. I told her to go ahead; I’m not breaking up with you and I’m sick of them holding that over my head.”
“You told her that?” I sat back, my heart thrumming with pleasure even as my stomach filled with ice. “That was a romantic gesture, Brent, but you need that money. That’s how we afford the testing and the supplies to try and recreate your medicine.”
He crumpled up his burrito wrapper. “That doesn’t mean she gets to use it to control me.”
I forced myself to take a deep breath. I let my brain catch up to my mouth and emotions. “It’s just that the stuff we’ve been trying isn’t cheap.” I leaned across the table and planted a kiss on his lips. “I’m glad you care more for me more than money, but I care about your health more than anything.”
“I feel that same way about you. That’s why I told her you’re more important than the money. My giving it up really surprised her.” He recaptured my hand. “She’s trying, Yara. That means we have to try too. That’s why this dinner is so important.”
I groaned. So I get to be judged all night?
“Come on. Your dad threatens me with swords. My mom isn’t that bad.”
I snorted. “I’d take the swords.” I sent him a suspicious look. “It’s all been a setup, right? The Skittles, the radio station, Miguel’s? You were trying to soften me up so I’d say yes.”
“Of course it was. Is it working? Would you be willing to give her another chance? For me?” He gave me his puppy dog eyes and there was no fighting their sn
are, especially when he added a pouty bottom lip. “Please.”
“You play dirty. I can never say no to that face.”
He grinned. “I know. So that’s a yes?”
“Yes.”
The smile he flashed made the idea of spending time with his mother almost bearable.
When we were finished eating he drove me to my parents’ home. “I can’t stay late,” he said as we pulled into the driveway. “My mom wants me home.”
“That’s fine.” The cell phone in my purse started to vibrate. I pulled it out and smiled at the name on the caller ID.
“It’s Cherie.” I almost bounced up and down in my seat. “Hi!”
“Am I, or am I not your best friend?”
Her question threw me. “You are.”
“Then how come you’ve been back in Corona for over twenty four hours and I haven’t even received a text message?”
I opened my car door. “I was waiting until your finals were over.”
“I just finished my last one.”
I grinned. “Good, because I have a lot to tell you.”
“Fill me in. Details please.”
“I’m not sure where to start,” I said as I followed Brent through the front door. As I stepped into the entryway, a familiar scent greeted me, one I’d known since middle school. Cherie’s perfume. I stopped short and my purse dropped to the ground.
“You can come out now; I know you’re here.”
A frowning Cherie popped up from behind the couch. She slid her cell phone closed. “How did you know I was here?”
“Your perfume,” Brent answered.
Cherie shrugged. “It’s my signature scent.” We paused for a split second before wrapping our arms around each other in a squeal-infested hug while bouncing up and down. It was our typical greeting after a long separation.
Brent covered his ears. “I forgot how loud you guys are.”
“Whatever. You and Steve are just as bad,” I accused from Cherie’s hug.
Brent looked offended. “We are not.”
Cherie rolled her yes. “Yes, you are. Just in a manly way.”