School Spirits

chapter 23

“Okay, so if everyone will just look at their handout, we can get started.”

Romy, Dex, and Anderson watched me with varying degree of “WTF?” stamped on their faces as I stood at the front of the portable classroom, dry-erase marker clutched in my hand. I’d called an emergency meeting of PMS that morning before class, so we didn’t have much time before the bell rang. The sooner I got them on board with this idea, the sooner we could stop Mary.

“When did you have time to make handouts?” Dex finally asked.

“That’s not important. The important part is highlighted halfway down on page two.”

There was a rustling of papers as they all flipped to that section. “This…this says ‘On Witches, Ghosts, and Summonings.’” Anderson stared at me with wide dark eyes. “Summonings? Are we dealing with, like, exorcist-level stuff here?”

“Not exactly.” I turned back to the whiteboard and began writing. “Okay, so Mary Evans’s ghost was summoned by a witch. I’m not sure why, but that doesn’t matter so much right now. The main thing is to find out who raised her.”

Behind me, I heard Dex say, “Um, Professor Brannick, I have questions. And they are legion.”

“I’ll take questions at the end.”

“I was joking,” Dex murmured, but I was on a roll. “So, ghost summoning is not that hard if you know where to do it. And there are two places where a witch could’ve summoned Mary Evans. One, the place where she’s buried, and two, the place where she died.”

I turned to face the other members of PMS. “Now we know where Mary is buried, and according to the legend, she died in the cave where she used to meet her teacher. If you’ll flip to page three, you’ll see I’ve attached a map of where I think this cave probably is. Tomorrow night, we’re going to split up and go to those places. Dex and Anderson, you take the grave, me and Romy will take the cave.” I paused. “Hey, that rhymes. Anyway, once we figure out who raised Mary’s ghost, we can figure out why, and we can stop it. And now I’ll take questions.”

Three hands went up.

I called on Dex first. “Um, yes. We have this friend, Izzy Brannick? She’s about your height, has your color hair, and she is a normal, sane-type person. And you, Crazy Lady, seem to have replaced her. Can we have Izzy back now please?”

Rolling my eyes, I pointed at Romy. “Next.”

“Actually, I kind of want you to answer Dex’s question. Seriously, Izzy. What is going on with you?”

“Just trying to be a…a productive member of PMS. So are we all agreed? Friday night, the boys deal with the cemetery, the girls handle the cave.”

“Um,” Anderson said, flicking his hair out of his eyes, “I, uh, was wondering if I could be paired up with Romy instead. No offense, Dex, it’s just…”

Dex held up a hand. “None taken.” Then he gave an exaggerated leer. “I’d much rather spelunk with Izzy, anyway.”

I knew that spelunking meant exploring caves, but I glared at Dex like he’d said something inappropriate.

“Now see, there’s the Izzy I know,” he teased, and I suddenly found myself smiling back. Ugh. I was clearly losing it.

Shaking my head, I rattled my own handouts. “Okay, so me and Dex take the cave; Romy and Anderson, you’re on grave duty. We’ll be looking for anything that suggests a ritual has taken place. Candles, burn marks, funky smells…”

“Salt all over the grass,” Dex said under his breath, but neither Romy nor Anderson paid him any attention.

“So…witches,” Romy said, frowning at the paper.

“Yes. Well, witch, singular at least.”

She looked up at me, squinting behind her glasses. “Pointy-hat-wearing, broomstick-riding witches.”

“They don’t actually do any of that stuff. At least most of them don’t. Some of them like to be retro every once and a while.”

Anderson lifted an eyebrow. “And you know this because?”

I glanced over at Dex. “I read a lot. On the Internet. And also I went to this fancy all-girls’ school, and we had a whole class on…witches.”

When the three of them just continued to stare at me, I added, “It was a really progressive school. Anyway, tonight, PMS patrol, cool?”

“I don’t have anything better to do tonight,” Anderson said, draping his arm around the back of Romy’s chair.

Her dimples deepened as she tried to hide a smile. “Me neither,” she said.

“You know I’m always up for weirdness my Nana won’t approve of,” Dex said, clapping his hands together. “Speaking of, since you’ll have to ride with me tonight, Izzy, why don’t we get off the bus together this afternoon? You can meet my Nana.”

“Right,” I said. I’d been meaning to do that, and while I wish I’d found time to see if any of those magazines had articles like, “Meeting His Nana: What Does It Mean?” there was no time like the present. “That…yeah, sure, that’ll be fine.”

Dex leaned forward, his blue eyes bright. “So let’s do this. PMS’s first witch hunt!”

The bell rang, and the four of us hurried to gather up our stuff and get back into the main building. The boys loped off ahead while Romy and I hung back a little.

“Anderson was in that picture,” she said, worrying her thumbnail between her teeth. “If I’m right, and Mary’s after the descendants of certain people—”

“There were lots of people in that picture, Romy,” I said, looping my arm through hers. I still hadn’t found the appropriate time to do a hip bump, but arm-looping felt right. “And Anderson is going to be fine because we’re going to find out what’s causing the haunting and put a stop to it. Besides, Mary’s nice enough to leave us little warnings when she picks a victim. If anything freaky happens to Anderson, he’ll tell us, and we’ll know.”

That didn’t seem to make Romy feel better, so I tightened my arm in hers. “Or hey! Maybe she’s done with the whole revenge thing. Maybe it was just Snyder’s and Beth’s relatives she was pissed at.”

That theory lasted until second period. Just after P.E., Romy and I were standing by her locker when there was suddenly an explosive bang from farther down the hallway.

“The hell?” I heard someone squawk as a cloud of gray smoke began pouring out of a locker.

“Anderson?” Romy cried, but it wasn’t Anderson standing in front of the Exploding Locker. It was Adam, his face a mask of fear and annoyance.

Rushing down the hall, I grabbed his arm. “Are you okay?”

Irritated, he threw off my hand. “Yeah, fine. Just some jackass put a firecracker or something in my locker.” Waving the smoke away, he peered inside, and I leaned over his shoulder to do the same. All that was left of Adam’s textbooks was a smoldering pile of ash.

“All right, people, make a hole,” Mrs. Steele said, pushing students out of her way. Grimacing, she took in the mess. “First someone’s car malfunctions, now lockers are exploding? What has gotten into this place?”

Behind her back, my eyes met Romy’s. Apparently, Mary was far from done.