Page 200 of Primal

More hands shoot up in the air. Some have both arms up like raising the stakes might give them an edge.

A small hand in the back. Hesitant.

I nod at the boy in a silver space suit. “What’s your question?”

“Did Miss K really die on Halloween last year?”

The room stills.

Miss Lorna steps forward, but I hold up a hand.

“Yes,” I say softly. “Miss K died last Halloween. But not because she was scared. She was very brave. She fought monsters and saved people. Even the ones who didn’t know they needed saving.”

The little astronaut tilts his head. “Did it hurt?”

Something twists in my chest.

Kristy, bleeding out in my arms, whispering about movie nights and spring rolls. Her voice slurring. Her fingers brushing my cheek.

I swallow. “No. She was already somewhere else. Somewhere good. But she made me promise to tell you something. She loved you all so much.”

The dragon kid wraps his arms around my middle like he’s trying to squeeze the sadness out of both of us.

I hug him back, eyes blurring.

Miss Lorna claps her hands. “Okay, pumpkins. Time for hallway trick-or-treating.”

Squeals. Fluttering capes. Glitter everywhere.

“Wait—before you go.” I dig into my bag and pull out the little pouch of stickers—sassy ghosts in sunglasses, a vampire sipping from a juice box, a baby werewolf in bunny slippers. “I made these for you guys.”

That gets a giggle—or five—and suddenly they’re swarming me, sticky fingers grabbing for bats and glittery ghosts, tiny pumpkins with fangs and slogans like Too Cute to Spook or Boo, Bitch!

One little witch slaps a vampire cat to her forehead. “You made these?”

I nod, smile wobbling. “Yep. Limited edition.”

“Whoa. Miss K would’ve loved them,” someone whispers.

Just like that, the rush kicks up again—sneakers pounding, wings flapping, the slap-swish of tails against tiny legs as they pour out into the hallway, sugar-drunk and glowing.

One kid pauses in the doorway.

“Halloween was her favorite,” he murmurs, fingers curled tight around his name-tagged bag.

I manage a smile. “Mine too.”

“Grandpa says ghosts are just people who have reasons to stay. Maybe Miss K’s here watching us.”

Then he’s gone.

And I’m left in the echo of laughter and the quiet hum of a classroom that still misses her.

“Thank you so much for dropping by,” Miss Lorna says quietly. “I swear, Halloween’s been the only thing on their minds all week.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“You showed up. That’s not nothing. Kristy would’ve cackled at the pirate voice.”