The Dead Girls of Hysteria Hall

 

“Let’s go outside,” she said suddenly.

 

“Come on,” Landon said, scratching his chin unhappily. “Why torture yourself?”

 

“Because I want to. I need to see … the place where she fell.”

 

“But why?”

 

“Because if I don’t see it,” Nic said desperately, “I’ll never believe it actually happened. I’ll never believe that she’s not just hiding someplace. You know how desperate she was to get away from her parents.” Her whole face lit up. “What if she was here now? Like, hiding in the closet or something? Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”

 

Landon looked doubtful. “Not sure that’s the word I’d choose.”

 

“You know what I mean. It would just be so … so Delia. If there were a cupboard under some stairs, I’d just about put money on her being in there.”

 

He didn’t look convinced, but she wasn’t paying attention to him anymore.

 

“Come on,” she said. “There’s an exit through the kitchen.”

 

Apparently, Janie had learned more about the house than I knew, because her map clearly showed a door leading out through the industrial kitchen. I trailed behind them, past the shelves piled high with stacks of giant pots and pans, past the hulking ancient stoves, and out a door with a thin coating of rust covering its entire surface. From the dark kitchen, we emerged into the crisp winter air.

 

Nic marched to the space under the boarded-up window. The ground was covered with snow, but she nudged her boot through it, kicking the white powder out of the way, until a patch of muddy, dead earth became visible.

 

Then she knelt, touched her hand to her mouth in a gentle kiss, and set her fingers in the mud.

 

“I miss you so much, you stupid loser,” she whispered.

 

“You too, Weenie,” I said.

 

Then her pain came pouring out, flooding the air with sobs. Her sorrow seemed to cut me in two, leaving me feeling pinned and helpless, weakened by my own reflection of her feelings.

 

Landon leaned over to touch her shoulder, but she pushed his hand away. Her sobs were gasping, choking sounds, echoing in the cold, empty air. Gradually they subsided, and she tried to speak.

 

“What?” Landon asked.

 

“I—I said … How could she?” Nic sat herself up. She looked terrible (and I can say that because I’m her best friend). “How could she?” She jumped to her feet. “How could you?!” she shouted up at the window. “How could you do this to me, Delia?!”

 

It took a second for the words to sink in. And then our shared sorrow melted away, leaving me feeling … angry.

 

“Do this to you?” I yelled back. “To you? Are you kidding? I didn’t do anything! I’m the victim here!”

 

“It’s okay,” Landon said, trying to grab her arm. “Nic, it’s okay. Come on, let’s go inside. You’re gonna freeze to death out here.”

 

Grudgingly, she let him guide her back into the kitchen and through the maze of rooms to the superintendent’s apartment, where she sat on the couch, sniffling and wiping her nose with a well-used tissue.

 

Landon flicked on the lights, then walked over and sat on the same couch, leaving a good-sized space between them. I hovered nearby, still hurt by her words but hungry for more conversation. I wanted to hear about my parents, my sister, the school year. I yearned for delicious, inconsequential little details—who won Homecoming Queen, what were the new trends, what books people were reading, which teachers were being extra strict this year, where our friends were applying to college. They were halfway through senior year. I wondered if Nic had to lie to her parents to be allowed to come here.

 

Landon fidgeted, his fingers tapping out an irregular rhythm on the arm of the couch, his eyes darting around the room. He’d always fidgeted. I wondered how many times I’d leaned against his warm chest, my eyes closed, thinking he was enjoying our time together—when really he was just looking around, wanting to be somewhere else.

 

“So …” he said finally. “Should we get going?”

 

“No,” Nic said. “Not yet.”

 

“Listen, you can’t do this to yourself,” he said. “You know that whatever she was going through wasn’t your fault. Any more than it was mine.”

 

“But what if she—”

 

“Delia, come here right now.” Eliza’s voice rang out from the opposite side of the room, urgent enough that I actually went to see what she wanted. But when I reached her, she simply shook her head. “You don’t need to see this.”

 

“See what?” I repeated. Was she jealous because my friends actually came to look for me? “See my best friend, who came to look for me and get closure? Don’t I get a little closure?”

 

She stared at me incredulously. “You honestly think that’s what you’re going to get by watching those two—closure?”

 

“Those two”? What did that mean … ?

 

Then I turned to look at them.

 

Landon had edged closer to Nic.

 

My heart stopped.

 

No way.

 

I couldn’t keep myself from walking back toward the couch.