“Well, bring her in here so I can meet her!” There was a clattering of pots as punctuation.
Shrugging, Skylar led Em into the kitchen. If Skylar was really lucky, maybe tonight would be the night Aunt Nora decided to really “get to know” her friends. But as soon as they walked in, Nora’s eyes got wide and she dropped the lid she was holding, tripping over herself as she bent down to retrieve it, mumbling under her breath. She looked . . . terrified—much as she had when Meg had appeared on their doorstep. Was acting batty around her friends another one of Nora’s charming quirks?
“Are you okay?” Em instinctively moved toward Aunt Nora.
“You’ll have to excuse me,” Nora whispered. “I’m . . . I’m not feeling very well. I’ll have to ask you—Skylar—I’ll have to ask you to wait a bit on dinner.” She went to push past Em.
“Wait,” Em said, her voice ringing out in the steamy kitchen. Nora stopped.
Em and Nora—one young, pale, vibrant; the other older, gray, shaking—stared at each other. Skylar didn’t know what to do. She felt like she’d stepped into a bad dream.
Nora spoke with misgiving. “You’re the one Hannah told me about.”
“Hannah—you mean Ms. Markwell? The librarian?” Em asked.
Nora nodded slowly. “I have to . . . talk to Hannah,” she whispered as she left the kitchen. A few moments later Skylar heard a door slam. It was obvious that Em was dying to go after her, but Skylar wasn’t going to let this situation get even stranger than it already was.
“We’re going upstairs,” she said firmly, and practically hauled Em up to her bedroom. Em protested but didn’t fight her.
Once they were in her room with the door closed behind them, Skylar turned to face Em, who was looking troubled. “Sorry about that,” she said. “My aunt is just a little cuckoo—she’s into, like, auras and spirits and stuff—and she acts like that around all my friends.” Which, unfortunately, was kind of true.
“Like the friend you told me about at the bonfire party?” Em asked.
Skylar tensed—she wasn’t sure if talking about Meg was a good idea. But Em kept going.
“The friend who gave you the orchid—Meg? How did you meet?”
Skylar sat down on the bed, picking at the quilted bedspread. “At the ice cream shop near school,” she said. “I went in there one day and we started talking.”
Em’s eyes were boring into Skylar’s, as though she was trying to memorize not just what she was saying, but everything about her. It made Skylar feel like she was under a microscope.
Em continued, “And you’ve met her cousins, right? Ty and Ali?” Skylar shrank back under Em’s gaze; it was starting to look incendiary, angry.
“I’ve met them once or twice,” Skylar said. “They’re . . . nice.” Even as she said it, though, she flashed to their curiously impassive faces as they stared at the dead body. And Ali had smiled. “I mean, I don’t really know that much about them.” Again, a truth.
“Has anything weird been happening to you?” Em persisted. “Do you feel okay? Have you done anything you feel . . . maybe . . . ashamed about?”
Skylar could feel the blood heating her face. She crossed her arms in front of her chest, digging her nails into her biceps. “Nothing’s weird,” she said stubbornly. “Everything’s great.”
“It’s okay, Skylar,” Em said gently. “You can tell me.”
Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn’t like the way Em was looking at her. “Look, dinner’s almost ready,” Skylar said. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I think you should leave.” She stood up, opened her bedroom door, and waited expectantly for Em to walk through it.
But Em didn’t move. “That girl and her cousins are dangerous,” she said, and there was a pleading quality to her voice. “If you’ve done something, please tell me. You might not realize it yet, but something bad is going to happen.”
Skylar stood there, thin-lipped, refusing to speak.
“Whatever they’re trying to do to you, it isn’t fair. I want to help you,” Em pleaded. “Maybe we can work together. Mayb—”
With every bit of quiet force she could muster, Skylar interrupted. “Please leave, Em.”
Em seemed to deflate like a punctured balloon. “Fine,” she said, and Skylar could almost see her give up. They walked downstairs without saying a word. But right before she left, Em turned and spoke once more. “Please call me, Skylar, if you need anything. Or if you feel scared. I won’t judge you.” As she watched Em turn to go Skylar felt the strangest sense of déjà vu. She slammed the door after Em.