"Don't worry. They won't lure me away." And he waved to me as I watched him leave.
###
I dreamed of the orphanage for the first time since the seance. Fog rolled in, thick enough to split as it reached through the gate's bars. I could hear voices whispering from the building beyond, but I couldn't make out anything they were saying. Candles flickered in the top windows, casting dancing shadows. I heard children singing a off-key song that I couldn't identify.
And then I was feeding the floor again, raw meat in both hands, blood dripping through my fingers. The stench was overpowering as I smeared the meat into the ground. So much blood, yet not enough. I still needed more.
When I woke up, my blanket was clenched in my teeth. I saw red before my eyes cleared.
###
On Friday, after everyone had handed in their tests, Vanderlip fed the scantrons into the machine to get the results right there. And from all of the groaning and cussing that flared up around me, the results weren't good.
"Showing improvement," Vanderlip said begrudgingly as he handed my test back to me. I was shocked. B+ was scrawled in red at the top with a circle around it. I felt a rush of pride I'd heretofore never imagined of math.
I found Henry by his locker after class and held my paper up like an excited child, grinning broadly.
"Good job!" He held his arms out for a hug, and I practically jumped into them, relief and pride making me giddy. I felt the breath of his laughter on my neck. "I don't know why you're surprised. I knew you could do it."
We pulled back from each other, and suddenly he kissed me. Softly, just a touch of the lips, but it happened, stirring the breath from my chest. My tingling mouth formed an o in shock.
He slammed his locker shut with his outstretched hand, and handed me back the paper he'd been gripping the whole time. "I knew you could do it," he repeated.
"You kissed me," I said, flustered. My brain scrambled to make sense.
"You looked so happy. I couldn't help it." He seemed to be blushing himself, a rare shyness overtaking him.
"Th-thanks for helping me," I stuttered, still not totally believing the kiss had actually occurred.
"Do you want to go to the dance with me?" he blurted out of nowhere. "I know you hate the things, but I think we could have a good time together. I've been meaning to ask you, I just—"
"Yes."
"I was...wait, yes?" he repeated.
"Heck yeah. I'd love to go with you." I could barely resisting the urge to bounce up and down.
The bell rang, making me curse it for the umpteenth time. "Text me," he said, and rushed off to class, his huge smile firmly in place.
###
Warwick came over for dinner for the first time since he'd officially become my teacher.
"I promise not to discuss anything school-related," he assured me as he was taking off his coat. "It's not like your grades are that bad."
"He's kidding," I said nervously to Hugh and Claire. "You've seen my test scores, parents."
"Where'd your sense of humor go, Ariel?" Warwick asked lightly, punching me gently on the arm. "Lighten up."
Dinner was like old times as we ate a chicken casserole Claire had whipped together. My parents and Warwick had an animated conversation, and as usual I just listened, since I was considered the child in the room. I was surprised they no longer made me sit at a kiddie table.
I didn't want to say anything about Henry asking me to the Halloween dance. Even though I was over-the-moon excited, I knew Claire would find a way to make it all about her and her choices of dresses and hairstyles.
They settled after dinner to watch a movie on the big screen. I dismissed myself downstairs, wanting to finish up my homework and having already had an earful of boring work stories for the evening.
"Are you sure you don't want to watch?" Warwick pestered me, his eyes twinkling. "It's a real bloodbath. Lots of dead bodies. I know you enjoy that kind of thing."
"Usually, sure. I just have some work to catch up on."
"Suit yourself," Claire said shortly as she brought out a bowl of mixed nuts and several cans of beer and set them on the coffee table. I knew she'd be covering her eyes or browsing on her phone throughout most of the film, so I didn't know why she cared.
As I reached the bottom of the basement stairs, I heard a familiar thud. I stopped, grabbing hard onto the wooden banister. It had to be my imagination. Going to the orphanage, having the seance, had stopped the strange sounds.
THUD.
Or so I thought.
I hopped off the steps, tore around the corner, and whipped open my bedroom door. The room was pitch black. I flicked on the light, which flickered briefly, and stepped inside. My eyes fixed on the wall above the desk, I listened.
The door clicked shut behind me and I whirled around.
THUD.
The overhead lamp flickered again, and then the light disappeared. I was left in total darkness.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Fear pulsed through my veins with the beating of my heart. I wasn't alone in the room. Something was trapped in there with me.
The dark was deeper than just a lack of light; the inky, thick air wasn't natural. As I tried to make my way across the void to the door, a force pushed back at me.
I waved my hands out uselessly in front of me as I struggled to reach the exit.
"Whatever you are, leave me alone," I whispered in a choked voice. Terror made me lightheaded and I felt as though I might pass out.
THUD. THUD.
They had to hear it upstairs, even with the movie going. The adults knew I was here. They would find me. I felt suddenly isolated from the rest of the house, from the rest of the world, in the unrelenting blackness.
I turned back, and for the shortest of seconds, Jenna's face flashed before me. The image disappeared before I could even process it.
The light came back on, bright and harsh. I rushed to the door and grasped the metal knob, yanking it open without a second thought.
The adults were engrossed in the movie upstairs, even Claire, whose cellphone lay dormant. She was snuggled up to Hugh, her head on his shoulder. Warwick munched loudly on a handful of nuts, tossing them into his mouth. No one noticed me rush into the room.
"There is something downstairs," I said breathlessly, chest heaving. A painful stitch was developing in between my ribs.
"What?" Hugh asked, his head snapping in my direction.
"The light went out. It was just gone. And something was there, banging the wall," I reported.
Hugh and Claire exchanged a glance. They looked more like they were worried about my mental health than things going bump in the night.
"Just wait here, hon," Hugh said to Claire as he stood up. "Pause the movie and I'll be right back."
"Okay, sweetie," Warwick said sarcastically, but no one laughed.
Hugh followed me to my room. I stopped, allowing him to go in front of me as we crept down the hall. At the last minute, I reached out and gripped his arm above the elbow, just in case.
"You said there was something hitting the wall?" Hugh asked.
"Yeah. Didn't you hear it upstairs? It was loud."
"No, I didn't hear anything, but I was paying attention to the movie, too."
We had arrived at my bedroom door, which was tightly shut, covered in the remains of old stickers.
"I didn't shut that door," I said. I distinctly remembered leaving it open in my urge to flee.
He turned the doorknob slowly, and pushed the door open. Inside, the overhead light glowed steadily, making the room look cheerful. But the air still had a strange thickness, deathly quiet even as Hugh began investigating.
"There's nothing here now," he said, stating the obvious.
"I'm telling you, I heard something," I insisted. "And the light just went out."
"Maybe it was a power surge," Hugh offered. He flicked the switch up and down. "The light see
ms to be working now."
"It's not the first time I've heard the noise, either," I continued, undaunted. My confession made him look even more worried, his scowl deepening.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I've heard it a couple of times before. It's like someone's banging on that wall." I thrust my finger accusingly in the direction of my desk.
Hugh rapped on the wall, listening for any echo or response. When he heard nothing, he pulled back and regarded me as I stood clasping my elbows again. I could imagine how he saw me: as a child, scared by imaginary monsters. I felt foolish and embarrassed that I'd been so scared.
"It's possible a critter might have burrowed inside, trying to escape the cold," Hugh suggested. "Maybe nibbled on the wiring, got into the insulation. We'll have it inspected."
He was trying to reassure me, but I wasn't buying it. Whatever was haunting me was back, but I was the only one who could hear it.
###
I slept on the couch for the rest of the week. I couldn't bring myself to be alone in the dark, two flights down from where my parents slept. So much for not being a baby.
It wasn't just that I was scared. I was confused, not able to wrap my head around what was happening. I had thought that the seance settled things, that the ghosts or whatever it was had gone back to ink and film. But that didn't seem to be the case.
Later that week, I was working on a project in Claire's office. It was a research paper for my English class. I had chosen the later life and mysterious death of Edgar Allen Poe, but the facts I found conflicted. And I kind of got the feeling old Poe was a bit of a perv.
I printed out reams of paper I'd pasted into a word processor, hoping I could highlight the good stuff and form a coherent report. I hadn't gotten much sleep in the past few days, and I had trouble writing a sentence.
A hideous choking sound emanated from the printer as it jammed. I sighed and started pulling the chewed paper out of the tray. Attempting to chuck it in the recycling bin, I frowned when I saw it was overflowing. There was a bunch of freshly shredded paper inside, along with one familiar-looking manilla folder that had been torn to bits. I knelt and dug around in the scraps.
Sure enough, it was my grandmother's medical file. Or what remained of it. Most of it was destroyed beyond recognition. Still, I sifted through the thin ribbons of paper. On one slip, I could make out two words—Bernhardt Medical.
Tossing my printer mess on top of the recycling bin, I picked up the spilled bits of shredded paper. I didn't want Claire to know I'd discovered the file; she obviously didn't ever want me to see it.
I sat back down at the computer, Poe forgotten, and typed Bernhardt Medical into the search engine. Several results popped up, but I was most interested in the third one.
Bernhardt Sanitarium, Ann Arbor, MI. News today confirmed that the state-owned building has been privately acquired... I clicked on the link for the full article and skimmed.
Bernhardt had been an insane asylum, built in the early 1920s and active for sixty years. But then the asylum was closed, and for years it had been an outpatient care place. I shivered, the very sight of the gigantic, dilapidated brick hospital stirring images of torturous therapies.
So Eleanor was crazy? Was that what Claire had tried to hide? I thought of her shaky hand spilling iced tea.
And if Eleanor was crazy, did that mean I was, too?
I didn't want to hear sounds anymore. Or see things I couldn't explain. I was done chasing ghosts, before I lost whatever was left of my grip on reality.
I couldn't stand imagining the uneasy look my parents had given me on the faces of everyone I knew. The sympathetic stare that said, she's crazy, handle with care.
CHAPTER 19
"WHY WON'T YOU tell me who your date is?" I asked Theo, kicking a rock down the sidewalk. "You tell me everything. Why did I need to know that you gnawed the head of your baby doll when you were six, but you can't tell me something simple like this. Is he really that embarrassing?"
"I don't know," Theo said into the collar of her coat. "Depends on your perspective."
"Does he have hair in his ears?" I pried, trying to cheer her out of her apparent funk. "Really bad acne? I promise I won't judge old pizza face."
It was the Thursday before the dance, and we were walking into town to go dress shopping. I'd finally broken down and told my mother I'd been asked to the dance, and just as I had expected, she had nearly blown a gasket.
Thankfully, she couldn't get the afternoon off, so we were on our own. I could only imagine the ribbon-festooned monstrosity she would have unleashed upon me.
Theo stared straight ahead, her jaw set, small face resolute. "You'll see him on Saturday," she said. "Why is it an issue?"
"That's precisely my question, why is it an issue?"
She grimaced and remained silent. "Can we talk about something else?"
The temperature had dipped down much colder, and I could smell winter creeping up on us. I was glad for the deep pockets of my coat as I jammed my frigid hands into them.
A cheery bell dinged as we entered the dress shop. The warmth inside was a relief. In the front window plastic skeletons posed as mannequins were decked out in red formal-wear. Whether this was commentary on the fashion industry or just the usual Halloween Town fun, I didn't know.
Racks of bridal gowns and bridesmaid's dresses hung in a rainbow of colors, along with different styles of formal dresses. The strong smell of eucalyptus was everywhere, the branches jammed into tall white vases around the room.
"Where do we start?" Theo asked, dismayed. Her brow puckered as she cracked her knuckles. I surveyed the dizzying array of choices. For once, I wished I knew as much about fashion as Claire.
Smelling fresh meat, the eager saleslady descended on us. Her unnaturally tinted hair was piled tightly on her head, face framed by two huge, geometrical gold earrings that looked uncomfortably heavy.
"Hello, ladies," she purred. "Looking for dresses for the Halloween dance?"
"How did you guess?" Theo asked suspiciously, taken aback not just by her words but by the spooky expression on the woman's heavily made-up face.
"My daughter goes to Hawthorne, too," the woman beamed. "Shawna Jameson. I'm sure you know her. Honor roll, co-chair of the decorating committee."
"Oh, yeah, sure," I said, nodding. I had never heard of the girl, but I wanted to be polite. And not piss off the creepy lady by admitting her daughter may not be as popular as she thought she was.
Charleen, according to her name tag, guided us over to a rack of dresses in darker tones of mauve and olive. She held her thick arms out, the skin above her elbows flapping, and gestured towards the ugly dresses as if showing off a new car.
"These are brand new for the winter season," she said. One leopard print, claw-like fingernail trailed along the shiny, intimidating fabrics.
"I think I have an absolutely perfect piece in petite." She pulled out a pumpkin colored two piece with a flourish and held it up to Theo. It was at least two sizes too big.
"Oh, wow," Theo said, the side of her face twitching. I was worried she was having a stroke. "That sure is a dress."
"Do you maybe have something more...traditional?" I asked in the politest way I could muster.
"Sure!" Charleen crowed, and jammed the pumpkin dress back in with its companions. "Follow me, ladies!"
She led us to a rack of dresses that looked like refuges from my mother's prom, all poufy sleeves and garish, neon colors. Theo was biting her lip raw, trying not to laugh. I felt the same way, especially since there were multiple butt bows.
"I don't know if these are exactly what we had in mind, either," I said delicately, fiddling with the price tag on a purple dress with blue sleeves. A snicker escaped Theo's lips, and she hid it poorly by pretending to cough.
"You know what, let me take a look in the back," Charleen said, not one to be discouraged. She disappeared behind a set of thick green cur
tains.
"This is some overpriced polyester," I said, balking at several of the exorbitant price tags.
"Yeah, we need cheap polyester. The way it's meant to be," Theo said. "Everything in here is so ugly. Let's scoot before she locks the door and makes us play dress-up."
We were on the sidewalk in seconds, the bell dinging behind us.
"What now?" Theo asked breathlessly as we were chugging away on the pavement.
"It would help if I knew what I was looking for," I admitted. "I don't even know what I want to wear."
"Me either."
"We could try the thrift store. Not glamorous, but they might have some interesting things. If you dig hard enough you can usually find some kind of treasure." My breath was coming out in little puffs. Theo agreed without any deliberation.
It was a short walk down to the thrift store. I hadn't been there in a long time. Housed in a large building that used to be a warehouse, it was crammed with ceramics, dishes, toys, and clothes. And everything smelled the same, like a Walmart.
As usual, the store was full of shoppers picking through the secondhand goods. Theo followed me over to the section of discarded dresses and costumes.
"We just have to watch out for anything Madison or Lainey have donated," Theo said wearily. "The last thing we need is to show up in one of their cast-offs, so let me know if anything looks familiar."
"Lainey's family doesn't believe in charity," I informed her.
"Who doesn't believe in charity?" Theo said, frowning. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. She did a whole speech about it last year, about how charity makes poor people lazy. And every year Lainey and Madison wear hot pink, so steer clear of that. If they could trademark the color, they would."
"Such winners," Theo said and rolled her eyes. "Then why would they be part of that Thornhill thingie?"
I'd never thought about it before. "Beats me. Because it's the in thing to do, I guess. Looks like they were clearing out the theater department," I observed. A decent amount of costumes hung on rows of hangers. We worked our way down the lines, shifting the hangers and pawing through the offerings: a plaid shirt and fringed pants complete with a cowboy hat, a Native American dress, what looked like a spacesuit. And plenty of tattered remains from children's costumes.
"Not seeing anything yet," Theo reported. We moved on to the racks of formal clothes, although most of them looked like something a ballroom dancing grandma would wear, mixed in with fluffy white bridal gowns.