Page 5
Cassian got a funny look on his face.
The ghosts had mixed reactions. The girl ghost was horrified while the guy ghost was disappointed, making a sad tsking noise. The library ghost harrumphed.
Cassian chuckled, shortly. “Nah. Just my cousin.” He glanced around again. “I think I’m going to go. I’ve got chemistry. Mr. Wilkins usually doesn’t give a shit when I show up as long as I show up.” His smile was forced. “Think about the party tonight. You can still come. I’ll have to go with my friends, but we can hang there. It’s up on Halstead Hill. The big mansion. It’s the only place with a gate. You can’t miss it.”
“Yeah. I’ll—uh—Oh! I have to work.”
He shrugged. “Come after. I overheard your whole thing, remember? You can technically make it to halftime. You can do the party.”
“I don’t go to school dances.”
“The party’s after the dance. That’ll get done around 10:30. Half the crowd will be drunk by the time the dance even starts.”
“That, uh…” I was still torn, but… “Okay.”
“Okay? Yeah?”
I nodded, so many new nerves exploding inside of me. What was I doing? Me and parties generally didn’t mix very well. “Why not?”
“Solid ring of excitement there, but I’ll take it. I’ll look for you.”
He jerked his chin up before going to his class.
The girl ghost said, “You cannot go to that house.”
My interest snapped into place. “What are you talking about?”
The three ghosts quieted, sharing a look.
“What?”
Shelton opened his mouth, but a high-pitched gargle left him. “It’s just that you did it.” He moved closer to me, holding his hand out. “You looked at us and talked to us and you’re a Living.” He looked at the girl ghost. “You said she could do it, but it’s true. You can see us.” He began waving his hands in front of him. “I’m freaking out a little bit here. Totally freaking out. Oh my ghostly hands.”
The librarian migrated closer to us, peering at me even closer than before.
The girl ghost held her hand out. “I think proper introductions are in order. I’m Sabine. I died in a nearby park in 1973. Assaulted. Serial killer.”
I frowned. “I’m sorry—”
Shelton said quickly, “I died in a house across the road in 1992. My dad killed me. Domestic abuse situation.”
“Shit. I’m so sorry.”
He waved that off. “It’s okay. My mom killed him. She’s in prison now, but she’s happy. She met her wife there.”
“Oh.”
The librarian raised her chin. “I will not be telling you how I died like these two. I don’t believe in oversharing. It’s nonsense. What I do care about is putting the library back in order and you are here now. You can tell the current librarian how she is messing up the Dewey Decimal System. It’s all a muck. She must be stopped.” She began leaving for the library again.
Sabine said, “She never married. Books were her life.”
I didn’t reply to that, or follow Beatrice. “I want to know what’s wrong with the house where the party is at tonight.”
Beatrice paused.
Shelton’s eyes got big.
Sabine smoothed a hand down her front, cringing.
