Indelible (10 page)

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 let 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 them 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.

My left hand was clenched in a tight fist and my fingers resisted as I forced them open. The wand of my mango lip gloss tumbled out of my grip. The tube lay on the desk, tipped over, a sticky puddle underneath it.

Weird.

I shook my arm, trying to get the blood circulating and ignoring the pinpricks of pain. My stretching roused Cherie from her sleep. She turned her head toward me, her groggy eyes squinting.

“You have something on your forehead,” she said around a yawn.

“What?” My hand went to my forehead and came back sticky and smelling of mango.

I climbed out of bed, dropping the blanket to the ground and reached for the wet wipes I kept in my backpack. I walked to the chest of drawers, and glanced at myself in the mirror that hung there. Something was on my forehead. I opened the wipes and pulled one out when I realized it wasn’t some random glob of something. I went on my tiptoes, bringing my face closer to the mirror. It took me a second to recognize it, because I had smeared it when I touched it earlier, and it looked backward in the mirror, but I made out a single word.

MURDERER

I had to hold onto the chest of drawers for support because my knees turned to oatmeal and my stomach dropped to the ground. My eyes flashed to the lip-gloss wand that my fingers had been clenching. I strode to the desk, picked it up and held it out to Cherie.

“I woke up with this in my hand.”

Cherie glanced at the wand. “Okay.”

“And look!” I pointed to my forehead.

Cherie stopped mid stretch. “Does that say ‘murderer’?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Just checking.” Cherie took the wand, but kept her eyes on my forehead. She titled her head to side. “That isn’t your handwriting.”

“I know.” I scooted onto the desk, my mouth spewing out words as my mind thought them. “It had to be a ghost, but I’ve never heard of them doing this sort of thing before.” I looked at my hand. “The wand was in my hand. Which suggests I did it. But I don’t remember doing it. Have you heard of people sleep-writing?”

I grabbed a wipe and rubbed furiously at the lip-gloss. Even after it was gone I could still feel its stickiness. My skin turned red but I kept scrubbing, trying to erase the memory too. I’m not sure how long I would have kept at it but something distracted me. Something moved out of the corner of my left eye. I spun toward it.