Heroine Complex (Book 4): Haunted Heroine

by Kuhn, Sarah

  “Eliza.” A sweet half-smile broke through Pippa’s tears. She hugged Carpet Ball a little tighter. “I appreciate it. But please don’t do any of that—I don’t want you to jeopardize your job.”

  “What good is my job if I’m not protecting my own students?” I said, blowing out a long breath.

  “You have protected us,” Shelby said, crossing the room to stand next to Pippa. She gave Carpet Ball an idle pat on the head—er, did Carpet Ball have a head? I supposed it didn’t matter. “Or at the very least, you and Angelica make me feel like there’s someone here who’s on our side. I mean, you guys are the only ones who took me seriously when I was scared about Pips being missing. You were the only ones who cared.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way, Shelby,” I said, my gaze going to Aveda. She gave me a small smile—she was being uncharacteristically quiet again, taking it all in. A true student of the collegiate experience. “But I’m still not going to let Professor Covington fail Pippa over such a small infraction. If nothing else, surely Morgan has a student board of grievances that—”

  “Yes,” Pippa said, laughing a little. “Surely we do. But why don’t we sleep on how to handle it, Eliza. I was gonna have my meltdown and then pretend I didn’t see the email until tomorrow. I need to, like, process the rage first.” She made an expansive gesture with Carpet Ball that seemed to indicate “processing.”

  “Pippa.” Aveda finally spoke up, pushing off of the wall. “How were you going to process? Did you have a plan for that?” She cocked her head at the girl, genuinely curious.

  “You saw the first part of it,” Pippa said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Flop on bed, scream into the void.”

  “Hug Carpet Ball,” Shelby interjected.

  “Hug Carpet Ball,” Pippa agreed. “Part two involves . . . well, it’s a bit of a Mara Dash rage-processing ritual. Wanna see?”

  “Do we ever,” Aveda said, giving me a sidelong glance. “I love rituals. And I think Eliza might want—might need—to partake of this one as well.”

  * * *

  The girls led us up to yet another odd corner of Mara Dash—it was sort of an outdoor patio attached to the second story of the dorm. The only way to get to it was to climb down a rickety metal ladder-like staircase winding up the exterior of the building—and said staircase could only be accessed from a third-level window.

  “This building is so odd,” Aveda said, gingerly making her way down the ladder. “It’s like a puzzle where all the pieces don’t quite fit—as if it was designed for maximum creepiness. Almost like the architect knew it was destined to be haunted.”

  I followed her, taking care to step carefully in my wobbly skyscraper heels, which I really should have taken the time to change out of. My Sexy Professor ensemble was definitely not made for rage-processing rituals, and I winced as the tight skirt cut into my flesh with every precarious movement.

  “A lot of people who live in the dorm don’t even know about this spot,” Pippa said, gesturing expansively to the patio. It was actually pretty big, with a surface of gray concrete and a single table covered in at least an inch of dust. An umbrella with a print of cheery yellow flowers sprouted hopefully from the middle of the table. I allowed my gaze to wander past the table to the dusky sky, slowly settling in for the night. This outdoor area also had a big stone barrier surrounding it, just like the rooftop.

  “You kinda have to work to find it,” Pippa continued. “But Shelby and I are always exploring and doing little treasure hunts and stuff, right, Shel?”

  She grinned at Shelby, who’d brought Carpet Ball down with us and was hugging it to her chest like a fuzzy green shield. I’d noticed that Pippa had actually suggested Shelby bring Carpet Ball—as if she knew there was something about it that always comforted her friend.

  “Yeah, Pips,” Shelby said, smiling softly.

  “Soooooo,” Pippa said, bounding across the patio to the far right corner, “here’s what we do.” She scooped something into her arms and came bounding back toward us. “Oh, hey, Tess!” She waved enthusiastically, and we all turned to see Tess making their way down the rickety ladder. “I invited Tess ’cause I thought they might also have some rage to get out,” Pippa said, beaming.

  “I don’t know about rage, but I definitely have a shit-ton of angst,” Tess said, making a face as they came to stand next to us. “Leonora’s kicked me out of the ghost-hunting society.”

  “What? How could she do that?!” I exclaimed, whipping around to face them. “I’ll . . . I’ll . . .” I opened my mouth, shut it. My ability to form words was overtaken again by that rage bubbling up, rising in my chest, ready to explode—

  “Whoa,” Aveda said, patting my shoulder. “Your rage is noble, but save it for the ritual, Eliza.”

  I nodded and turned back to Pippa—but my hands were still curling themselves into fists.

  “Soooooo,” Pippa said, brandishing the bounty she’d just retrieved. “I know this looks like an ordinary stack of dinner plates that I maybe, possibly stole from the dining hall—oh, shit.” She narrowed her eyes at Tess. “You won’t report me, right? Since you work there and all . . .”

  “I confessed my green bread disaster to you,” Tess said solemnly. “I’ll take it to my grave.”

  “Awesome!” Pippa said, giving them a jaunty thumbs-up. “So this is something Shel and I came up with after I stole all these plates—”

  “Wait, you didn’t steal the plates specifically for this ritual?” Aveda asked, her brow furrowing. “Then why did you—”

  “Not important!” Pippa chirped, slicing a hand through the air. “Now. Allow me to demonstrate.” She tucked one of the plates under her arm and set the rest down, then marched with purpose toward the metal ladder.

  “Um. Can you give me a spoiler about what this ritual entails?” I murmured to Shelby, as Pippa began to climb the ladder. “She’s not doing something dangerous, is she? She looks like she’s getting ready to perform a high-flying trapeze act—without the trapeze.”

  “She’ll be okay,” Shelby said, hugging Carpet Ball to her chest as she watched her friend ascend to the very top rung of the ladder. “She just loves drama. So everything has to be done as dramatically as possible.”

  Her mouth quirked into a half-smile, amused and . . . did she sound wistful? I turned and studied Shelby for a moment and was surprised to see that her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. I wondered what it was about this particular moment that was affecting her so much. Maybe she was just overcome with happiness at having her ride-or-die back.

  “Hello, friends!” Pippa bellowed from the top rung. She kept a firm grip on the ladder with one hand, and brandished her plate with the other. “Now please observe the great rage-processing ritual of Mara Dash!”

  She closed her eyes and raised the plate high in the air.

  “Fuck Professor Covington!” she shrieked. “I am so fucking sick of his condescending, sexist bullshit! I’m sick of him making me feel small! I! Am! Not! Small!”

  And with that she flung the plate to the patio with all her might. It hit the cement surface with an explosive smack and shattered into a million pieces.

  It was so cathartic, so visceral, so satisfying.

  We all burst into cheers.

  “Yesssss!” Shelby shouted, waving Carpet Ball around.

  “Fuck that guy!” Tess cried, stabbing the air with their two middle fingers.

  Aveda and I jumped up and down, throwing our arms around each other and screaming until our throats were hoarse.

  “Wait,” Tess said, their brow crinkling as we all settled and Pippa began her climb down the ladder. “Should we be yelling this loud? This area is still connected to the dorm—won’t people hear our potentially incriminating expressions of rage?”

  “Nah,” Pippa said, waving a hand as she returned to us. “Something about the way the sound
works in this particular area, the acoustics . . .” She gestured around. “People in the dorm hear something, but it’s mostly just random shouting and they can’t make out the words. We could be cheering on a Morgan soccer game or something.”

  “That was great, Pippa,” I said, impulsively pulling her in for a hug. “It felt like you exorcised something really powerful.”

  “Thank you!” she said, her cheeks flushed with exhilaration. “Just wait ’til it’s your turn, Eliza, it’s such a rush!”

  “I’m still not going to let Professor Covington do this to you, though,” I said, putting my hands on her shoulders and meeting her gaze. “It’s not okay. And I can’t believe he . . . he . . .” I trailed off, sputtering, that all-consuming rage rising up again.

  “Hey, Pippa, what’s the best technique for this?” Tess asked, picking up a plate and swinging their arm through the air like they were training for the shotput. “I want the most powerful smash.”

  “Ooh, it’s all in the elbow,” Pippa said, her eyes lighting with glee. She gave my hand a grateful pat, and went to coach Tess. “I’ll show you.”

  “Eliza, come talk to me for a minute,” Aveda said, grabbing my arm and tugging me toward the edge of the balcony. “In private. I want to discuss all the rage we have to process.” I allowed her to tow me over to the stone barrier, out of earshot of the others—they were occupied anyway, caught up in Pippa’s passionate explanation of proper plate-throwing technique.

  Aveda released my arm and turned to face me, putting her hands on her hips.

  “I need to ask you something,” she said abruptly, leveling me with an Aveda Jupiter Stare so direct, it made me squirm a little.

  “Is this about how I’m going to get up on that ladder and throw a plate in these heels?” I said, gesturing to my shoes. “Because I’m wondering about that, too. I might have to come up with a good excuse for not participating in this ritual—”

  “It’s not about the heels, it’s about . . .” She sputtered, glaring at me. “Why is it so easy for you to get mad on behalf of other people, but not for yourself?”

  I shook my head at her, trying to parse her words. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean . . .” She paused, letting out a long breath. Her face was getting all red. “Richard is a massive asshole in so many different ways, no question. You’re absolutely enraged at the way he’s treating Pippa, and so many of his other students—and for good reason. But you don’t get mad about the way he treated you.”

  “That’s not true,” I protested, fiddling with a loose thread on my blouse sleeve. “I burned down an entire freaking library, remember?”

  “But you still frame that as something you did wrong!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “It’s like you think getting mad was an incorrect response somehow.”

  “Annie . . .” I nodded toward Pippa, Shelby, and Tess, who were still talking about best plate-throwing maneuvers. “Is this really the time to discuss this?”

  “Yes.” She slammed a hand down on the stone barrier, then winced. “Okay, that’s actually really hard. But listen to me, Evelyn: it is killing me to see you treat these kids with such incredible empathy and compassion, but not give any of that to yourself. You told Tess that Leonora disrespecting them wasn’t their fault. You always make the extra effort to ask Shelby if she’s okay, because she wouldn’t even think of speaking up if she wasn’t. You nearly blew your cover on the first freaking day because you were so pissed at Richard for how he treated Pippa in class. But when you talk about what he did to you . . . well, it’s like I said when we first got here. You sound like all he did was steal your laundry quarters.”

  “Because it’s in the past,” I protested. “I’m not Sad Mouse Evie anymore, I’ve worked hard to—”

  “You keep saying that.” Aveda shook her head vehemently. “And I think it’s because it’s easier for you to make everything that happened all your fault—all her fault. Sad Mouse Evie.” She took a step closer to me, her eyes flashing. “He slept with you when you were a student, Evie. I know it was a consensual relationship. I know you were close in age. I know you were an adult, old enough to make your own decisions. But there was still a huge power differential. He took advantage of you being sad and lonely and his subordinate. And on top of all that, he treated you like shit.”

  “I . . .” I opened my mouth to protest, then closed it, pausing to think—really think—about what she’d just said.

  The full-body rage I’d felt when I’d seen Richard in the library had been so all-consuming—even now, I still remembered my face getting hot, my vision narrowing, my fingers curling so tightly against my palms, they’d left marks. I’d attributed it all to jealousy, to the betrayal of whatever our connection had been. But if I stopped and really thought about it . . . it was also a release of everything I’d felt, everything that had been building during the entirety of our relationship. He had done all the terrible things Aveda said.

  My anger in that long-ago library moment had been so powerful. It had showed me what I was capable of, how destructive my power could be if I was pushed too far.

  It had scared me.

  I’d never really stopped to consider that it was also justified.

  I’d never considered that I deserved to get angry.

  “Annie,” I finally said, reaching out to take her hand.

  “What?” she said, her voice rising suspiciously.

  “You’re right.”

  “Excuse me?” She shook her head at me. “Did I hear that correctly?”

  “Yes.” I gave her a small smile. “I never really thought about it that way, but you’re totally right. I think . . .” I paused, my gaze drifting to the darkening sky. “I’ve gotten a lot more comfortable these past few years actually having emotions—showing emotions, not stuffing them down. But I’ve suppressed so much for so long, I don’t always know how to process everything, and it’s still easier for me to have those emotions, like . . . for other people. I don’t always know how to have them for myself.”

  Aveda returned my tentative smile, squeezing my hand. “Evie,” she said slowly. “Please be honest with me. I know that . . . well, I’m certainly part of why you do that. For years, you repressed all your feelings so you could deal with mine. But tell me, was I not there for you enough when you were in grad school? It sounds like you were going through so much, and you felt so alone. I don’t think I really knew that. At the time. And it feels weird that I didn’t know that.”

  “You were always there when I asked,” I said, squeezing back. “I guess I just didn’t ask very much. I felt like all of this stuff was my stuff, you know? That I had to deal with it myself. That I had to just keep saying I was fine—because maybe that would make it true.”

  “Which is what you’ve been doing lately as well,” Aveda said, giving my hand a little shake.

  “I know.” I released her hand and turned back to look at Pippa, Shelby, and Tess. Tess had climbed to the top of the ladder and was brandishing a plate high over their head.

  “I am strong and powerful!” Tess screamed. “And I refuse to be manipulated by asshole fakers who don’t know shit about ghosts!”

  “Say that!” Pippa bellowed, jabbing her index finger in the air.

  “Also I’m pretty sure I’m in love with Julie Vũ! Ahhhh!” Tess threw their head back, yelling into the night sky, then hurled the plate at the concrete with gusto.

  “Whoa!” Aveda breathed.

  “Plot twist!” I murmured. “Though maybe we should have guessed as much, given how upset Tess was over Julie.”

  “I hope we can reunite them,” Aveda said, her expression morphing to determination. “True love must prevail over gaslighting professors and terrible faux-woke white women who insist on calling their students ‘warriors.’”

  “I want to throw one,” I said abruptly.

 
“What?” Aveda shook her head at me. “But you were just saying . . . your heels . . .”

  “Fuck my heels!” I yelled, loud enough for Pippa and Shelby to swivel in my direction.

  “Yeah, Eliza!” Pippa said, pumping her fist in the air. “Get over here and do that.”

  I stomped back over to Pippa and Shelby as Tess climbed down from the ladder. My heels still felt wobbly, but they made the most satisfying clack-clack-clack sounds against the concrete. The harder I stomped, the louder they were. I took the plate Pippa offered and tucked it under my arm, striding toward the ladder.

  Something took root in my chest, a feeling of bone-deep strength that grew with every step I climbed up the ladder. The rusty metal scratched against my palm, but I held on tighter, the plate tucked firmly under my arm. The evening chill had descended now, creeping under the thin silk of my blouse as the wind whipped my hair around my face.

  And I didn’t care about any of that. I didn’t even care that my heels kept catching precariously on every single rung of the ladder.

  All I could hear were the encouraging cheers of the people below—Aveda, Pippa, Shelby, Tess. Every echo of their voices bolstered that strength rising up inside of me, powering me forward.

  When I finally reached the top rung, I steadied myself, holding tightly to the ladder as I swiveled my torso around so I could see the ground below. My eyes met Aveda’s, and she gave me a firm nod, her eyes flashing with pride and solidarity.

  “Get mad, Eliza!” she called out.

  I looked past her, out at the campus. At the library build site, a menacing formation of shadowy shapes off in the distance. A shiver ran up my spine. I quickly shook it off.

  I called up the memories I had of that moment from so many years ago. My rage. My need to release it. My face got hot again, that pure mad pulsing through my entire system, overwhelming everything else, demanding to be let out . . .

  “Fuck you forever, Richard!” I screamed.

  I yanked my arm back and flung the plate at the ground with such force, it reverberated through my entire body.