and that her Gran would pretend that she didn’t know anything about it.
Assuming that her Gran was the “old lady” that they’d been talking about, which she was pretty sure she was. And that was weird too, because Belladonna had never seen a single ghost in Grandma Johnson’s house and had just assumed that the séance thing was all made up.
She opened the carton of juice and began to drink, then put it down and rummaged about in her bag, eventually coming up with three chocolate biscuits wrapped in plastic and two lonely Parma Violets. She was just unwrapping the biscuits when she noticed something—a kind of shimmering on the other side of the table. She watched with interest as Elsie slowly materialized.
This wasn’t the Elsie of the day before, however. For one thing, she just wasn’t as corporeal; Belladonna could see the door on the other side of the room quiteclearly through her. And the confident swagger that had made Belladonna so envious upstairs in the attic had been replaced with a nervous watchfulness.
Belladonna opened her mouth to speak, but Elsie held up her hand.
“Don’t say anything,” she hissed. “Pretend you can’t see me.”
“Why?”
“They’re watching. Pretend you can’t see me.”
Belladonna pulled her dinner plate back and began pushing the shepherd’s pie around with her fork.
“Actually, I
can’t
see you very well. You’re transparent, you know.”
“Sorry,” whispered Elsie, “it’s the best I can do right now.”
Belladonna sneaked a look up at her while pretending to glance at the clock above the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I feel like . . . it seems like everyone has gone.”
“I know. They have,” her hand went to her chest, just below the knot of her school tie, as if she was checking that something was still there. “I’m safe . . . I think. But . . . I just managed to get through for a moment.” Elsie glanced over at the window and stifled a gasp, “They’re here!”
“Who? You’re not making any sense.”
“Look over at the window,” said Elsie, whispering impatiently. “What do you see?”
Belladonna turned around and looked. The windowwas long and narrow and extended the length of the lunch room. It was set high in the wall on the side nearest the grounds, so usually all you could see was sky. Today, though, the view of the sky was partially obscured by a row of five large black birds perched on the windowsill.
“Birds,” said Belladonna, “really big ones. Crows, I think.”
“They’re ravens.”
“I saw them earlier, fighting and flying around the trees at the far end of the football pitch.”
Elsie shuddered. “They’re Night Ravens,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“They’re what?”
“Oh, no! They’ve seen me!”
Belladonna turned to the window again. All five birds had turned around and were staring into the lunchroom. She turned back to Elsie with every intention of asking all about the birds, but the look on the ghost’s face froze the words on her tongue.
“I have to go,” said Elsie, slowly dematerializing. “I just wanted to tell you: Everyone is gone. Not just from here. There’s no one. You have to find the door. It’s here. It’s red.”
“What? Wait! I know that! But where . . . ?”
“You have to help us. Look for the red door.”
And with that, she was gone. Belladonna stared at the space where she had been, and as she did, Elsie slowly reappeared.
“I almost forgot,” she said, “the number is seventy-three.”
She vanished again. For a moment the air shimmered, but Belladonna knew she wouldn’t be back. She turned and looked at the birds. They were still there, only now they seemed to be staring at her.
She stood up, picked up her tray, threw away her lunch, and left the tray and her plate with the stacks of other dirty dishes. She glanced at the window again. They were still there. Staring. She stared back at them defiantly. She had no
Assuming that her Gran was the “old lady” that they’d been talking about, which she was pretty sure she was. And that was weird too, because Belladonna had never seen a single ghost in Grandma Johnson’s house and had just assumed that the séance thing was all made up.
She opened the carton of juice and began to drink, then put it down and rummaged about in her bag, eventually coming up with three chocolate biscuits wrapped in plastic and two lonely Parma Violets. She was just unwrapping the biscuits when she noticed something—a kind of shimmering on the other side of the table. She watched with interest as Elsie slowly materialized.
This wasn’t the Elsie of the day before, however. For one thing, she just wasn’t as corporeal; Belladonna could see the door on the other side of the room quiteclearly through her. And the confident swagger that had made Belladonna so envious upstairs in the attic had been replaced with a nervous watchfulness.
Belladonna opened her mouth to speak, but Elsie held up her hand.
“Don’t say anything,” she hissed. “Pretend you can’t see me.”
“Why?”
“They’re watching. Pretend you can’t see me.”
Belladonna pulled her dinner plate back and began pushing the shepherd’s pie around with her fork.
“Actually, I
can’t
see you very well. You’re transparent, you know.”
“Sorry,” whispered Elsie, “it’s the best I can do right now.”
Belladonna sneaked a look up at her while pretending to glance at the clock above the door. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “I feel like . . . it seems like everyone has gone.”
“I know. They have,” her hand went to her chest, just below the knot of her school tie, as if she was checking that something was still there. “I’m safe . . . I think. But . . . I just managed to get through for a moment.” Elsie glanced over at the window and stifled a gasp, “They’re here!”
“Who? You’re not making any sense.”
“Look over at the window,” said Elsie, whispering impatiently. “What do you see?”
Belladonna turned around and looked. The windowwas long and narrow and extended the length of the lunch room. It was set high in the wall on the side nearest the grounds, so usually all you could see was sky. Today, though, the view of the sky was partially obscured by a row of five large black birds perched on the windowsill.
“Birds,” said Belladonna, “really big ones. Crows, I think.”
“They’re ravens.”
“I saw them earlier, fighting and flying around the trees at the far end of the football pitch.”
Elsie shuddered. “They’re Night Ravens,” she said, as if that explained everything.
“They’re what?”
“Oh, no! They’ve seen me!”
Belladonna turned to the window again. All five birds had turned around and were staring into the lunchroom. She turned back to Elsie with every intention of asking all about the birds, but the look on the ghost’s face froze the words on her tongue.
“I have to go,” said Elsie, slowly dematerializing. “I just wanted to tell you: Everyone is gone. Not just from here. There’s no one. You have to find the door. It’s here. It’s red.”
“What? Wait! I know that! But where . . . ?”
“You have to help us. Look for the red door.”
And with that, she was gone. Belladonna stared at the space where she had been, and as she did, Elsie slowly reappeared.
“I almost forgot,” she said, “the number is seventy-three.”
She vanished again. For a moment the air shimmered, but Belladonna knew she wouldn’t be back. She turned and looked at the birds. They were still there, only now they seemed to be staring at her.
She stood up, picked up her tray, threw away her lunch, and left the tray and her plate with the stacks of other dirty dishes. She glanced at the window again. They were still there. Staring. She stared back at them defiantly. She had no
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