All our things were packed. I had put out some jeans for the bonfire tonight and some sweats and my mom’s sweatshirt for the trip back. I was wearing my long black skirt, a black turtleneck sweater, with my wild hair wound up in a knot. I had on some eye shadow and earrings, too. Tonight I was going to see Troy.
“Promise me you’ll see your therapist back home,” she continued.
I was pacing. “Julie, I know what I saw. What I heard. They wanted to . . . kill someone. I’m sure of it. What if it was Kiyoko? What if you’re next? They said they were looking for Number Seven. There used to be seven of you in the clique, until Kiyoko died. Is that just a coincidence?”
“No,” she said, “because none of that happened. It was a dream. Or . . . or you’re . . . ” She looked down.
“Julie, there are things about the history of this school that you and I don’t fully understand. Frightening things that happened years ago, and bad things are happening now, too. Don’t you see?”
“You mean like, evil spirits possessing Mandy and my friends?” She raised a single brow. “And they want to kill someone named Number Seven because then they will go to heaven?”
My friends.
I stopped walking. “I don’t know about the heaven part. They’ll be able to move on. I know it sounds crazy—”
“It sounds
insane
.” Julie snapped. Then she softened, blowing her bangs out of her face as she cradled Caspi against her chest. “I didn’t think you would be so . . . ” She played with the unicorn’s eyelashes. “It’s like a bad movie, Linz, you trying so hard to make me stay your best friend. It’s scary.”
“You should be scared,” I blurted. “But not of me. Julie, please.” I welled up.
And then she looked at me very hard. I saw tears in her eyes, too. She said, “Mandy’s nice. And so are the other girls. But I thought that you . . . you and I . . . ” She licked her lips. “You get it. How hard it is to be at boarding school. Everything is so easy for them.”
“Julie,” I said, moving toward her.
She stiffened and turned away, as if she had said way too much—shown her vulnerable side to the wrong person. Me.
“I still think of you as my best friend,” I told her. “Please, Julie, please, listen to me.”
“Lindsay-girl, phone,” Ida said, poking her head in.
I wondered if it was my dad. The snow was coming down, and more parents were hastily readjusting their already-changed pickup plans.
I hurried to the kitchen and picked up. It was Troy. I had asked him not to call on the landline, since I didn’t want anyone to know about us.
“Lindsay, I’m doing it tonight, at the bonfire. Breaking up with her,” he said. “Meet me where I tie up my boat.”
“You can’t row,” I pleaded. I was a mash of emotions—joy, terror, dread. Hope. Fear. For him.
“Meet me at the tie-up,” he repeated. “I have to go.” The phone went dead.
“Troy?” I whispered. “Hello?”
I waited in case he called back. I dialed him.
No service.
I went back to our room to grab my cell. Julie was gone.
I raced out of Grose and caught up with her. I wanted to make a detour to Jessel’s porch to call Troy back, but I didn’t want to leave Julie again. I was afraid. I needed her, and I needed to keep track of her. Tonight was the last night anything could happen.
“Hey,” I said.
“Ida told me that was Troy on the line. Are you seeing her boyfriend behind her back?” she asked me. Her face was set with intense disapproval. “So you made up all this stuff about her?”
“Julie, no,” I said. “No, it’s not like that at all.”
She didn’t speak to me again as we walked to the dining commons with the rest of the school—a walking fashion magazine of yuletide glamour. The horse heads stared. Mandy and her girls were up ahead and I watched Julie watching them. Her eyes narrowed. Oh God, was she going to tell Mandy?
The commons were breathtaking, with silver and gold tablecloths and ice sculptures of reindeer illuminated by floodlights. The tables were set with silver plates decorated with little gold stars around the borders. Our napkins were folded into stars. Silvery confetti trailed down embroidered runners with ornate Ms entwined with more stars.
Julie stayed with our Grose table for dinner. But her attention was on Mandy’s table, and she was very quiet. When we cleared out to go back to our rooms to change for the bonfire, I lost track of her.
Nor could I find Mandy and the others.
I panicked, working my way through the moving mob, calling her name. Girls were staring at me; teachers were frowning. I was causing a scene. I didn’t care.
I ran up the hill to our dorm. Julie was in our room, already changed into a pair of jeans and boots. She was pulling on a dark green sweater over a long-underwear top; she jerked when I slammed open the door and fell against the wall, gasping for breath.
“Thank God,” I heaved, leaning forward.
“Oh my God, you
are
insane,” she said.
“Julie,” I said, “I’m
not
. I—”
And then my attention ticked to the white head. It was sitting on my bed, gazing blankly at me.
“Why did you move that?” I heard the tremor in my voice.
“What?” She looked at the head, frowned, shrugged. “I didn’t. Maybe I did. I don’t remember.”
“Julie,” I began. “Please, let me talk to you.”
She grabbed her coat and walked in front of me. “Excuse me,” she gritted her teeth, and made a point of keeping her distance as she circled around me and went into the hall. But I could hear her slow footsteps; she was waiting for me even if she didn’t want to admit it.
“I’m coming,” I said softly. I stared at the head. It stared at me.
I left the room and hurried after her. She gave me a once-over and frowned, gesturing to my clothes, my army jacket layered over my skirt.
“You can’t wear that to the bonfire.” She was practically running away from me. “Just . . . leave me alone.”
“Julie, please,
please
listen.” We were outside, and I saw the bonfire, burning at the entrance of Academy Quad. Above us, on a hill, the administration building was ablaze with lights.
The bonfire was ringed with huge logs and sawhorses with caution tape—not as quaint and picturesque as I had imagined it—and it rose at least fifteen feet in the air, yellow and crackling. Girls in jeans were gathering around it—girls with silk mistletoe pinned to their hair; or wearing silver garlands around their necks. Charlotte the goth wore black bat deely boppers. I saw Sangeeta in a puffy Indian-style embroidered jacket and gathered black wool pants.
Mandy stood beside her, dressed in black, like me, with a heavy parka. The fire played over her face, smudging her eyes and cheeks with deep hollows. She looked very tired. Thin.
Kiyoko had started out looking like that. Maybe the stress of channeling some Ouija board nightmare was too much for her.
I met her gaze, held it. I would not back down. I would not—
But when Mandy smiled, she looked so evil that I missed my footing, and stumbled.
Julie shot on ahead without looking back at me, and headed straight for Mandy. Mandy held out her arms like our Catholic saint, and Rose and Lara greeted Julie like a long-lost relative—like the missing sister of the girls in the photographs. Alis was there, too, wearing a backpack. I thought of Kiyoko’s backpack, filled with rope and alcohol, back on the night of her prank almost two whole months ago now.
One-two-three-four-five, not counting Julie. Maybe they couldn’t do anything with only five. Maybe Kiyoko had known that. Maybe she had meant to drown in the lake, break the curse and save Julie.
Kiyoko, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when I had the chance. Oh God, they’re going to do something.
I started to head toward them, just as Ehrlenbach appeared in a long black wool coat and black pants, a black knitted cap like a rotten mushroom accentuating her bony, tight face. A cheer rose up and dozens of boys in jeans and jackets loped from the direction of the parking lot by the admin building. Lakewood had arrived. The girls’ side did not greet them with the usual giddiness. Our faces were grim. Everyone was quiet, shuffling around the fire to get warm. Trying not to think of Kiyoko, lost out there, swallowed and then spit out by that awful lake.
I saw Troy in a black leather jacket and jeans, the blazing flames surrounding him like an aura. Then he turned and saw me, and his intense blue eyes startled me. I wanted to run to him and tell him what was going on. He trotted over to Mandy and brushed a casual kiss on her lips.
Julie looked around, and for a minute I thought she was looking for me. I raised my arms and waved.
“Get away,” I shouted, but my voice was lost in the roar of the bonfire. She rolled her eyes and her gaze moved over and past me; I realized she was scanning for Spider.
“Excuse me,” I said, working my way through the mob as stapled song sheets began to make the rounds. The snow fell heavily, and I saw Dr. Ehrlenbach glance up anxiously, then turn to Ms. Shelley, the receptionist, who checked her watch.
A tall guy moved in front of me, blocking my view. By the time I got around him, Julie, Troy, and the others were gone.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “No.” I fought to stay calm. They wouldn’t do anything around Troy. Julie was safe—
Unless Troy was in on it.
“Oh God, oh my God,” I gasped.
“Hey, Linz,” said a voice behind me. It was Elvis. She was holding Caspi out to me.
I blinked.
“She said to give this to you.”
“Julie?” I blurted.
Elvis shook her head. “Mandy.”
I looked down at the unicorn. A white rope was tied around his neck, with a little folded slip of paper attached to it. As Elvis walked away, I unfolded it. The handwriting was ornate, old-fashioned.
Now. You know where.
B. J.
B.J. What? I
didn’t
know where.
Help me
.
Yes, yes I did know.
“Belle Johnson” wanted to see me.
In the operating theater.
thirty-two
Snow fell like dirt clods
and the bonfire blazed as I ran into the forest. No flashlight, in a skirt. I could hear the singing—“We Wish You a Merry Christmas.” My mind was hyper-alert, keeping track of every detail around me—the distant singing, the snowflakes, the wind. My breath.
And the ghosts of details: the odor of burning wood, and . . . other things on fire; wisping curls of vapor that looked exactly like smoke.
They’re Devil worshippers. Phantoms. Demons. Let it be a prank. Let it be a big fakeout. They’ ll laugh their heads off like they always do. Except when Kiyoko died. Oh God.
“Help me,” I said aloud.
My skirt tore on the undergrowth, I fell over a tree root, got up, and stumbled over a rock. My hands were cold and bleeding. Every once in a while, my mind would explode with an image of Julie, dead, and I would start crying. I couldn’t cry. I had to get to her. I held onto Caspian as if that would keep Julie safe.
The snow was falling, tapping my head and shoulders like bony fingers. Branches yanked my hair; the icy bluster smacked my cheeks. Finally, I stopped, winded, scared, and hopeless. I didn’t know where I was.
“I’m here!” I shouted, but the noisy forest swallowed up my words. “Damn it, Mandy!”
I panted, trying to catch my breath; mixed with the smoke, I smelled blood on my face. My left ankle throbbed. Something skittered across the tip of my boot and I was too exhausted and scared even to react.
I sank to the ground and sobbed.
“Help me. Mem,” I whispered; because I hoped that whatever had been guiding me really was the one whose nickname was M-E-M-M-Y.
An owl hooted, and something inside me moved. It told me to get up. It
helped
me get up. I took one weak, staggering step forward. Another. I couldn’t see where I was going. I didn’t know what I was doing.
But something did.
“Memmy?” Was she there?
In the forest, I remembered something I had buried a long time ago: a memory of my mom, when she was in the hospital. We were going to visit her. My father had brought a bouquet of flowers. I got scared and told my dad I had to go the bathroom. He said to go ahead; he’d meet me in her room.
I stood paralyzed in the hall; then, ashamed, I hurried to catch up. I was concealed by the pale green curtain that stretched across the room, for privacy.
I heard my mother start to sob; she said, “Help me, Evan. I’m so scared.”
I’d reeled. If she was scared, then things were bad. Then she must have sensed I was there, because she sniffed one more time, then said in a cheerful voice, “Oh, what beautiful flowers.”
“Mem, things are so bad,” I pleaded. “If you can help me now, please, please do it.”
I let myself be moved, imagining she was holding my hand and guiding me through the darkness. If that was a lie, like the flowers, I would use it anyway.
The smoke smell grew stronger. I didn’t want to go there; I didn’t want to see the dark hulk of the operating theater. But as I staggered out of the dense stand of pines, I saw lights flickering through the holes in the walls, and I knew that they were waiting there. For me. I took a deep ragged breath.
Okay,
I thought.
Bring it on.
Then I remembered the other entrance, the tunnel half-buried in the ground, filled with ashes and blackened bricks. I crept around, searching for it. I saw the empty square where a door had once stood, and walked through it.
No
, something protested inside me.
For the love of God, no
.
It wasn’t my mother. But I didn’t know what it was. I wanted to listen. I wanted to leave. But they had Julie. Whoever they were.
So I crept through the ashes, wishing I’d listened to Julie and changed into jeans. Wishing that I had never come to Marlwood. I was shaking, and I could feel myself beginning to unravel, the way I had back in San Diego. But I couldn’t; there was too much at stake.