The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

I dodged my mother’s arm as she reached out for me. Then I took a moment to figure out how exactly one might go about telling one’s parents that one would rather scoop one’s eyeball out with a plastic spork than spend one more minute in this place, where something sinister oozed beneath every door, down the walls, up from the floorboards …

 

“I think I know why Aunt Cordelia ran away and killed herself.”

 

“Delia.” My father looked annoyed. “I thought we agreed—”

 

“Did she really, Brad? Your aunt killed herself?” Mom interrupted.

 

Dad sighed and shot me a look that plainly said, Sellout. “Delia,” he said, “I’d really appreciate it if you would sit down, take some deep breaths, and think this over like a rational person.”

 

“There’s nothing to rationalize,” I said stiffly, wrapping my arms around myself. “Unless you see what I saw—unless you feel that thing watching you, following you, stalking you …”

 

“That’s enough,” my father said. “You’re scaring Janie.”

 

That much was perfectly true. My sister looked like a statue, her lips slightly parted.

 

Mom eased her arm around Janie’s shoulders, but Janie jumped away. “I’m not staying here!” she said. “If Delia’s leaving, I am, too.”

 

Normally, her copycatting would have irritated me, but in this case I was relieved. Janie might have been a total pain, but at the end of the day she was my sister. And I didn’t want her in this house.

 

“Tell us what happened,” Mom said. “You’re frightening me.”

 

I wove my fingers together and took a deep breath. “Something chased me around. With bells. And there’s this light on the wall upstairs, and a table that won’t let you put things on it. And Cordelia left a message for me on the floor in the main hall—Don’t sell the house, Delia.”

 

“Oh, you’re kidding. Did she carve up the hall floor, too?” Dad asked, sighing into his hand.

 

Really? That was the part that concerned him? A massive chill went up my spine, contracting every muscle in my back. I turned toward my mother. “Mom, please,” I said. “We have to leave. This place … I think it’s haunted.”

 

For a beat, we all stared at each other.

 

Then Dad crossed his arms. “No,” he said. “I’m sorry, but no. We came here for the summer, as a family, and we’re staying for the summer—as a family. I don’t know what you think you saw, Delia, but one old lady’s senile ramblings aren’t—”

 

He blathered on, but I wasn’t hearing his words.

 

No more discussing for me. I’d moved on to planning. I had to get my things and go, as fast as I could. They’d never drive me, so I’d walk myself back to town, or as far back as I needed to go to get cell service, at which point I would call Nic. She would do whatever it took to help.

 

I spied the pile of suitcases in the corner and moved to grab mine, an old scraped-up red bag that had been Mom’s in college.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” my father asked.

 

I turned to face him. “Leaving.”

 

Dad’s slow-burning sigh seethed with frustration. “You’re not leaving.”

 

Our eyes met.

 

“Brad, maybe—” Mom said.

 

“Lisa, I’ve got this, thank you,” Dad said.

 

“I don’t want to leave, Daddy,” Janie said, with a golden-girl smile. Traitor.

 

“Janie,” he snapped, “find something else to do for a little while.”

 

My sister scowled and slipped out of the room.

 

“No one’s going anywhere,” Mom said, exasperated. “There’s a huge downpour practically on top of us. We’ll talk it over first thing tomorrow morning.”

 

Even more reason to get out. The thought of being stuck here on a dark and stormy night … “No way,” I said.

 

“Yes way,” Dad said.

 

My parents looked as determined as I’d ever seen them. I knew that no matter how hard I pressed, I’d lose this argument. I had a choice: try to leave now, and deal with the potentially nuclear-level fallout, or leave later, when they weren’t looking. Once they noticed I was missing, they might call the police to pick me up, but that was fine. I’d much rather spend the night in jail than in this house.

 

Time to re-strategize.

 

So I shrugged and attempted to act resigned. “Whatever.”

 

“First thing tomorrow,” Mom promised, her shoulders rounding with relief.

 

Dad nodded sharply, forced to play nice but obviously furious that I had the nerve to defy them.

 

I turned away, nursing more than a little fury of my own.