The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

So did he—he stood in a relaxed pose, his hands in his pockets. I realized how glad I was to see him again. After enduring Eliza and Florence’s prim politeness, I needed to be around someone who wasn’t studying and judging my every word and action.

 

“It’s suffocating inside,” I explained.

 

He nodded. “I can imagine. I like the fresh air, myself.”

 

Only I hadn’t just meant the air, or the temperature, or even the smallness and darkness of the rooms. It was the fact that there was no world outside of the Piven Institute—and the fact that that didn’t seem to bother the others at all.

 

“So … what have you been up to lately?” I asked Theo.

 

He laughed. “Well, let’s see. Every day I walk the perimeter of the property, and then I sit on a fallen tree over there, in that little patch of woods, and then I wait for it to get dark, and there are a few animals I’ve been watching since they were small, so … that’s pretty much the whole story.”

 

We were walking between the rows, basically on top of dead people. I wondered which grave corresponded with which ghost. Did the ghosts feel it when I passed over them? My seventh-grade teacher had told us once that when you shiver for no reason, that means someone’s walking over your grave. The class told her she was crazy, because we weren’t dead.

 

Joke’s on me, I guess.

 

“Do you ever think about trying to leave again?” I asked.

 

Theo shook his head. “Not anymore.”

 

“Why not?” I asked. “What would be the worst that could happen?”

 

“Oh, I’m not afraid,” he said. “I just … don’t care. It’s been a long time since I cared about anything.”

 

“That’s it?” I said. “That’s what’s keeping you here? Not caring?”

 

His tone was practiced and easy, but I remembered the way he’d choked up when we’d held hands last time. Now he seemed to be trying really hard not to let that happen again—by suppressing any trace of emotion. “I used to care about things. But that’s not going to do you any good when you’re just a ghost.”

 

I didn’t answer. As much as it hurt to miss my family and wish they hadn’t abandoned me, I wasn’t about to pretend they didn’t exist.

 

“Think about it,” he said. “Have you ever known anyone who died?”

 

“My grandmother,” I said. “She died when I was eight.”

 

“Did you love her?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“But do you think about her every day? Do you remember what she did, her life’s work, the things she said to you? We don’t do that. We let the memories go. All the moments that you thought were so important … it all starts to vanish, the day you die.”

 

There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, and part of me couldn’t deny the truth of his words. What was the point of getting all emotional about things and people who were only going to forget I ever existed? But at the same time, he was wrong. I still remembered how my grandmother smelled, and how safe being at her house made me feel. Those things became part of who I was.

 

Theo made a frustrated sound. “I’m sorry, Delia. That’s a terrible way to talk. I don’t mean you shouldn’t care about people, or that your family—”

 

“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t think I agree, but it’s okay.”

 

Still, my mood was undeniably gloomier than it had been a few minutes earlier. I kicked at a pile of snow and watched my foot go right through it.

 

Theo caught his breath. “Now I feel awful. I’ll make it up to you, if you like.”

 

“How?”

 

The smile that followed surprised me with its brightness—and I filed a mental note that his detachment was only a cloak for something that had happened. Something that had hurt him.

 

“Do you like ice-skating?” he asked.

 

“Um … I’m from Georgia. Not a lot of hard freezes down there. Also, I’m about as graceful as a swan with a broken leg. I’m not really the athletic type.”

 

“Well,” he said, taking me by the hand and starting to run, “the good news is, you’re not going to die out there.”

 

Keeping up with him was easier than I would have thought. In a couple of minutes we passed into a small stand of trees and reached the edge of a small, round pond. Its surface was a shell of pale-blue ice.

 

“I’ve never—” I started to say, but Theo was already pulling me onto the ice. I shrieked and started to slip, but he caught me and set me back upright.

 

“The other good news is that you don’t need skates,” he said, gliding past me. “No friction, see? Come on!”

 

I hesitated, and he circled back, executed a graceful spin, and then looked at me with that infectious smile.

 

“I thought you wanted more fresh air,” he said.

 

“Fine,” I said. “But if I fall through, you have to dive in and save me.”