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Authors: Nancy Holder
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watched me pace; I was overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the handful of hours I’d been back. I fought the impulse to grab it and throw it across the room.
I was going to die at Marlwood.
Tears welled, and I gave my head a stern shake. I couldn’t think like that. I was a survivor.
You had a nervous breakdown , the head seemed to say. Life . . . broke you. The weak perish
“Wrong,” I whispered. “I’m not weak. And I’m still standing.”
I tore off my rust-and-navy plaid pajama bottoms and maroon camisole and dressed in sweats, threw on my army jacket and high-tops, and blasted outside, into the dawn. I began to jog past the empty Academy Quad, watching my breath, trying to dilute the adrenaline in my system, picking up speed, pulling off the army jacket as I began to sweat. Without breaking stride, I wrapped the jacket around my waist. I didn’t know exactly what Celia had hoped to accomplish by dragging me back to the school. But whatever she’d assumed, we weren’t going to be able to pull it off. There were too many of them.
The wind buffeted against my chest, whispering in my ears. Wrong , it seemed to say. You’re wrong. Or maybe it was, You’re gone.
Fog churned around my knees like ocean breakers, the white-water fringes of the tsunami of thick, wet mist tumbling from the mountaintops into the valley of our campus. Its coldness smeared my face like iced oil. I pulled my cell from the pocket of my jacket. No bars, but I could read the time. It was only 5:00 a.m. Technically, I was still breaking curfew.
It had been five in the morning the first time I saw Mandy standing at the edge of the lake, talking to herself—or so I’d thought. She’d been talking to Belle, the evil ghost who possessed her. Now I jogged there on purpose, as fast as I could, my teeth chattering from the cold, standing beside the NO TRESPASSING sign, gazing into the water at the white, eyeless face of Celia. Anyone passing by would assume I was staring at my own reflection. I experimentally touched my face, to make sure I still had skin, eyes. In the water, Celia did not touch hers.
“Make it stop. Tell me what to do. Now ,” I ordered her. “I’m here. So let’s get it over with.”
“ Very well ,” Celia told me, in a voice that came out of my mouth, but was not mine. “ You must set a troubled spirit free. ”
Celia’s spirit , I filled in. I knew this part.
“Okay,” I said, hearing myself talking to myself in two different voices. This was exactly what schizophrenia was, hearing voices, talking back. “Fine. But you have to tell me how.”
Her face drifted with the current . . . except that Searle Lake had no current. What made it move? The wind?
“ I know this will be shocking ,” she replied. “ But it’s the only way. If there were another . . . ” She went silent.
“Well, what is it?” I leaned farther over, and almost lost my balance.
“ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . ”
“Celia,” I said. “Come on . What is it?”
“ Can’t you guess? ” she asked me. “ You have to kill her. ”
My lips parted in shock. “Kill—”
“ Mandy Winters. Before she kills you .”
SIX
IRAN.
As fast and as far as I could go, I fled the lake and lost myself on a tree-lined path. Kill Mandy? Kill another living human being?
“No,” I breathed. “No.”
But the coldness in me turned my blood to ice as I kept running. I could almost hear Celia hissing “ yes ,” in a voice like fire hitting the water.
“It won’t stop Belle,” I argued. “She’s a ghost. She’s dead. She’ll just find someone else to take over.”
Or was there something special about Mandy that Belle wouldn’t be able to find in another person? Was I that way, for Celia? If I died while she was possessing me, would she “die” for good?
I kept running, aware that I was going deeper into the forest and farther away from the dorms and the dining commons—the populated
I was going to die at Marlwood.
Tears welled, and I gave my head a stern shake. I couldn’t think like that. I was a survivor.
You had a nervous breakdown , the head seemed to say. Life . . . broke you. The weak perish
“Wrong,” I whispered. “I’m not weak. And I’m still standing.”
I tore off my rust-and-navy plaid pajama bottoms and maroon camisole and dressed in sweats, threw on my army jacket and high-tops, and blasted outside, into the dawn. I began to jog past the empty Academy Quad, watching my breath, trying to dilute the adrenaline in my system, picking up speed, pulling off the army jacket as I began to sweat. Without breaking stride, I wrapped the jacket around my waist. I didn’t know exactly what Celia had hoped to accomplish by dragging me back to the school. But whatever she’d assumed, we weren’t going to be able to pull it off. There were too many of them.
The wind buffeted against my chest, whispering in my ears. Wrong , it seemed to say. You’re wrong. Or maybe it was, You’re gone.
Fog churned around my knees like ocean breakers, the white-water fringes of the tsunami of thick, wet mist tumbling from the mountaintops into the valley of our campus. Its coldness smeared my face like iced oil. I pulled my cell from the pocket of my jacket. No bars, but I could read the time. It was only 5:00 a.m. Technically, I was still breaking curfew.
It had been five in the morning the first time I saw Mandy standing at the edge of the lake, talking to herself—or so I’d thought. She’d been talking to Belle, the evil ghost who possessed her. Now I jogged there on purpose, as fast as I could, my teeth chattering from the cold, standing beside the NO TRESPASSING sign, gazing into the water at the white, eyeless face of Celia. Anyone passing by would assume I was staring at my own reflection. I experimentally touched my face, to make sure I still had skin, eyes. In the water, Celia did not touch hers.
“Make it stop. Tell me what to do. Now ,” I ordered her. “I’m here. So let’s get it over with.”
“ Very well ,” Celia told me, in a voice that came out of my mouth, but was not mine. “ You must set a troubled spirit free. ”
Celia’s spirit , I filled in. I knew this part.
“Okay,” I said, hearing myself talking to myself in two different voices. This was exactly what schizophrenia was, hearing voices, talking back. “Fine. But you have to tell me how.”
Her face drifted with the current . . . except that Searle Lake had no current. What made it move? The wind?
“ I know this will be shocking ,” she replied. “ But it’s the only way. If there were another . . . ” She went silent.
“Well, what is it?” I leaned farther over, and almost lost my balance.
“ I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . ”
“Celia,” I said. “Come on . What is it?”
“ Can’t you guess? ” she asked me. “ You have to kill her. ”
My lips parted in shock. “Kill—”
“ Mandy Winters. Before she kills you .”
SIX
IRAN.
As fast and as far as I could go, I fled the lake and lost myself on a tree-lined path. Kill Mandy? Kill another living human being?
“No,” I breathed. “No.”
But the coldness in me turned my blood to ice as I kept running. I could almost hear Celia hissing “ yes ,” in a voice like fire hitting the water.
“It won’t stop Belle,” I argued. “She’s a ghost. She’s dead. She’ll just find someone else to take over.”
Or was there something special about Mandy that Belle wouldn’t be able to find in another person? Was I that way, for Celia? If I died while she was possessing me, would she “die” for good?
I kept running, aware that I was going deeper into the forest and farther away from the dorms and the dining commons—the populated
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