Ghost Academy: Book One

by E. C. Farrell

  I scrunch my nose, thinking back to the people we saw in the woods. Most of them looked more like Sunday School teachers rather than Ghostbusters, or hunters from that TV show about urban legends. Theo matched that description better than they did. It was all kinds of a weird reversal of expectations.

  “The guns were scary for sure,” I say. “And they were...weird. Like, you don’t expect to be hunted down by somebody dressed like Mr. Rogers. It’s very jarring.”

  Yasmin laughs again. “Mr. Rogers? Like, sweaters and pressed pants? Guess that’s some kind of group uniform.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Well…” Yasmin glances at the door, then back at us. “Like Kaz. Since, you know, he used to be an Xer. I don’t want to be a conspiracy theorist, but then there’s the fact that the Xers showed up when you and Rafe go to try and take care of his unfinished business. It’s just...could it really be a coincidence?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nod. “It is a little weird that he still wears those clothes, and that the Xers attacked us when they did. But maybe he has a good reason for it. I’ll have to ask him. Maybe he could give us an idea of how we might have been found. What do you think, Haya?”

  Haya runs a finger under her eyes and lets out a sigh. “I don’t know. The data does add up to that kind of conclusion, but maybe we’re analyzing it wrong, missing pieces. He’s always done so much for us here. Just because he had a messed up life doesn’t mean he’s still that person now that he’s dead. It’s not really fair to cancel someone for mistakes they made in their past, right? Especially mistakes they’re making amends for now. Don’t we all have stuff we did we never want anyone bringing up again?”

  “Uff da, yes,” Yasmin says. “Freshman year was not a pretty one for me.”

  My stomach cramps a little and dread crawls up my chest. I’m sure I have a lot to regret in my past, I just don’t remember any of it. What’s it going to be like when my life comes crashing fully back into my mind? Will it come wrapped in shame or shining with glory? Most people are a mix of both.

  The memory of that hushed conversation between Mr. Qureshi and Ms. Alvarez pokes at my brain again. Why are they worried they need to protect the other students from me? Could it be some dark evil I committed when I was alive? And if so, are they afraid that when I remember I’ll change back into that horrible person?

  I shiver. “I think you’re right, Haya. Let’s ask before we draw conclusions like someone else we know.”

  “As I’ve said, Landon’s really not that bad.” Haya frowns. “I know he’s snarly, but I think he really does want to protect people. Erin getting twisted messed him up bad. It compromised his logic.”

  Yasmin cringes. “Seeing someone get twisted is definitely not something you forget fast.”

  “But we didn’t come here to bum you out,” Haya says. “We also came bearing gifts. Scientifically speaking, sweet things always lift the spirits”

  She pulls a plastic bag from her purse, then hands out cartons of ice cream. I immediately grab for the sherbet. Nostalgia runs through me as I take the first bite, triggering another life flash of Cody and me in a small diner-like restaurant.

  We sit in a booth with peeling, plastic cushions. A woman in her upper twenties who has my dark brows sits across from us. She blows bubbles into her coke, making Cody and me laugh.

  I blink as it dissipates. Though it isn’t particularly significant or enlightening, it is the first time I’ve seen my sister’s face since I died. Hailey. Her name was Hailey and she’d taken care of us since...When? I can’t remember, and my still-pounding head isn’t conducive to thinking hard about anything at all.

  Instead I focus on Haya and Yasmin as they chatter about lighter things. Another party this weekend, who’s dating who, and gearing up for their own mission to take care of unfinished business. It’s then Yasmin’s turn to wrinkle her brow.

  “I’m a little nervous after what happened to you and Rafe, though. It actually kind of surprises me Mr. Qureshi isn’t investigating or anything like that.”

  “I’m sure that he is,” Haya says. “But he doesn’t want to update us until he knows more.”

  “But if he’s worried at all he shouldn’t send anybody out, right?” Yasmin sucks on the end of her spoon.

  “Guess we have somebody else to harass with questions.” I grin even as worry about the conversation I overheard gnaws at my insides.

  Ms. Alvarez hovers up from her chair. “I have to run down the hall. You girls holler if anything happens, and don’t you dare think about getting out of that bed Ms. Martin.”

  I give her a mock salute and, when she disappears around the corner, scoot a little closer to my friends. “Harassing people sounds like a good job for Team Untwist the Mystery. If y’all are still onboard.”

  “Definitely,” Yasmin says. “With everything that just happened to you and Rafe, even more so.”

  Haya throws a glance at the door, then leans forward and drops her voice. “I may have found something out. Since Locklear opened, at least one student a year has gotten twisted, but there aren’t any records of how they were dealt with. At least nothing specific. All their files say is ATB with an asterisk by it.”

  My brows pop up. “Were you able to see what the asterisk meant?”

  “I didn’t have time, but I’ll keep digging. Don’t ask how. That way you can plead ignorance.” She adjusts her glasses and grins.

  I grin. “Perfect. Maybe we can set up a meeting place in the next few days so we can discuss more privately. Somewhere teachers won’t overhear, just in case.” Hiding things from the adults around us doesn’t fully sit right, but with all the truth dodging and clandestine conversations, I feel the need to keep our investigation quiet.

  “I have an idea about that,” Haya says. “Will report back when you’re not locked in here anymore. Let’s figure this thing out.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  On Friday evening, when Ms. Alvarez finally gives me the all-clear, I bolt for the rec center where we’ve all agreed to meet for Team Untwist the Mystery. I’m still a little unstable so maintaining a straight line is easier said than done. Instead of risking knocking into everyone in my path, I press a hand to the wall to keep steady.

  Halfway down the hall though, another student blocks my way and I have to repress a very unhelpful grimace. Melissa leans against a doorframe with her arms crossed. If I trusted my balance more, I’d just sidestep her, but as it is, I have to stop when I reach her.

  “Can I help you?” It’s not the best opening line, but since recently recovered from getting shot and expending a crap-ton of power, I give myself a little grace.

  “Nice job helping your friend with his unfinished business.”

  I roll my eyes, make the wise decision to disengage, and risk slipping around her. My balance holds somewhat steady, and I focus on my original destination. Maybe if I ignore her, she’ll go away and not add to the insane headache that refuses to leave me alone.

  “I can’t believe you got him shot.”

  Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.

  Repeating this mantra over and over, I pick up my pace as I reach the door to the woods. Out here, I don’t have anything to hang on to. I weave like I’m on drugs and a faint roar starts in my ears. Thankfully, Ms. Alvarez isn’t around to see. She might drag me straight back to the Healer Ward. It’s not ideal, but at least if I can make it to the rec center Melissa will have to stop harassing me. Bullies back down in front of crowds, right?

  “Do you know what spelled salt does to a ghost?”

  With a growl, I spin around and tug down the collar of my shirt to show her the entry wound near my shoulder. “Actually, I do.”

  Melissa flinches back a step.

  “Because we both got ambushed, okay?” I inch toward her when she shuffles further away from me. “I just spent a week in the Healer Ward recovering. And yes, Rafe got shot because he protected me from getting
hit again. If I could have stopped that from happening, I would have. I don’t know what your problem with me is specifically, but you have got to back off because I have enough drama to deal with right now, and I assume you do too. There is absolutely no reason in the realm of the dead that we have to be enemies, so please stop trying to come up with excuses to be angry with me.”

  Before she can respond, I slip through the door of the rec center and let out a heavy sigh when I see most of Team Untwist the Mystery on the corner couch. Quinn, who’s sitting in a chair off to its left, gives me a little chin tilt as a greeting. Yasmin waves and Rafe grins, and all I want to do is slump in the most undignified fashion across both of their laps.

  So, I do just that. Falling on them, my head lands on Rafe’s thighs and my stomach flops across Yasmin’s legs. “I’m free master, Billie is freeee.”

  Yasmin cackles. “Did Ms. Alvarez give you a sock?”

  “I wish. Maybe it would’ve scared Melissa away.”

  Rafe groans and lets his head fall back against the couch. “She still ranting?”

  “Yes. I can only handle one person who hates me at a time. And seeing as how Landon is also part of our group…”

  “I don’t hate you,” Landon says, sinking onto a chair close by. “I nothing you.”

  “Aww, thanks. That warms my silent heart.” I clasp a hand to my chest. “Please tell me you’ve brought some kind of information along with your grumbly attitude.”

  Landon glances around the room, waiting for Haya to slide into a chair of her own before he scoots a little closer. He gives her a nod and she pulls a laptop out of her bag. Funny since in all the movies ghosts tend to wreck technology. This one must be spelled like so many other things at Locklear. Or maybe the technology thing is a myth.

  “I discovered what that asterisk meant,” Haya says, typing something onto her keyboard. “Or part of it anyway. It’s quite vague. Maybe because they don’t want anyone to know what’s going on.”

  I flip onto my back, consider sitting up, then resign myself to a horizontal position when the ceiling spins. “What’s it say?”

  Haya squints at her screen. “All of the Xed confined to the...underneath?” She looks up, face twisted in confusion. “Either someone’s super poetic, or very morbid.”

  “Underneath. That’s about as clear as ‘I open at the close.’” Yasmin tries to tuck a curl behind her ear, but like mine it just floats right back up. “Underneath what?”

  “Campus?” Rafe’s voice cracks and I can almost feel the color drain out of him. After dying in the basement at Blakemore, I can’t blame him for wanting absolutely nothing to do with anything like that.

  I tilt my chin to get a better view of his face. “As in Locklear?”

  Rafe swallows and dips his chin in a nod. “Does the school have a basement?”

  Haya clicks her mouse a few times, then says, “If it does, it’s not in the blueprints. Or at least not in these schematics. I can do some more research, though I’m not particularly well versed in reading that kind of thing.”

  “Is it even possible to trap the Twisted somewhere?” I ask. “They seem a little hard to, uh, corral.”

  “Xers can do it.” Landon’s upper lip curls in a sneer.

  I knead my brows but bite back the snark I want to spit out on him. “Care to expound?”

  He runs a hand over his face. “I guess that’s not exactly fair. All witches with medium abilities can direct ghosts with their own unique magic. Something it sounds like you learned on your visit to Blacksburg.”

  Swallowing, I think back to the confrontation with the Xers in the woods, how our spells collided and countered each other. “It’s some pretty wicked stuff. Really powerful. It makes sense that if they can trap ghosts in objects, they could also direct them somewhere.”

  “They can.” Landon nods. “It’s really just like any other kind of witch magic, but is kind of more...specified, I guess. Only mediums can spell Locklear so we can touch things in the realm of the living. When it comes to directing the Twisted, most of them spell an object that, as far as I can tell, acts like an opposing magnet so it doesn’t get close to you. Kaz uses a staff.”

  I remember the night of the party and the last look I got at our friendly neighborhood Ghost Guide when he faced off with the two Twisted students. That explained the glowing stick thing I saw him swinging around. Also, that would have been a super handy thing for the rest of us to carry around to avoid getting sucked into the vortex or whatever. But this also begs another question.

  “If they can direct them, does that mean they can trap them too?” I ask.

  Landon shrugs. “Honestly, I have no idea. But I don’t see why not if they can trap normal ghosts.”

  I rub my temples with the heels of my hands. “Maybe it’s time we have an honest conversation with Kaz. I need to talk to him about our trip to Blacksburg anyway.” Tilting my eyes up to a still very pale Rafe, I offer him a small smile. “Want to come with?”

  His dimple pops up. “I don’t know. The last mission we went on together was kind of a disaster.” He winks and I smack his arm.

  “I submit that was not our fault. Plus, we handled it pretty well all things considered. Even if we did get shot.”

  “Fair point. I’m in.”

  “While you two do that, I can help Haya look into the blueprints,” Yasmin says. “Let’s figure out where all these messed up ghosties are going!”

  Before Rafe and I try to hunt down our Ghost Guide, we drift to a boulder a little ways into the woods. Though we spoke a bit in the healing ward, neither of us have really had time to debrief, to process together what happened in Blacksburg. Stars beam down from a clear sky overhead and a gentle breeze nudges the pine trees together. They sway like lazy dancers in the dim light, their limbs brushing each other softly as Rafe and I sit.

  We watch them in silence and I’m willing to let it drag as long as necessary. Though Blacksburg definitely sucked for me, the events were extremely personal for Rafe. As antsy as it makes me to wait — patience is a virtue I do not naturally have — I need to let him set the pace of this conversation.

  I have to cross my legs to keep from bouncing a knee, but finally Rafe breaks the quiet. “I’m so sorry I got you shot.”

  A laugh mainly based on shock bursts out of my mouth. “Are you kidding? That wasn’t your fault. I’m sorry you got hit twice protecting me, and that we didn’t find your sister. Or your grave. This is the weirdest apology I’ve ever been a part of.”

  Rafe snorts.

  Chewing my lower lip, I slide my hand along his back, again remembering his mom’s claws scraping down it. The muscles in his shoulders ball together with tension. I’m still a little amazed at how strong they feel under my touch. His lanky form definitely fools the eye.

  Rafe lets his head dip forward a little. “I can’t believe what a waste of time that was.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.”

  He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t accomplish anything. And we both got shot. Not sure any of that qualifies as success.”

  I run my hand back and forth between his shoulder blades a few more times, sorting through my words carefully. The discussion I overheard between Mr. Qureshi and Ms. Alvarez echoes back to me again. If Rafe’s still too messed up from his experience at Blakemore to even sense where he needs to go next, then he was kind of set up for failure. Based on what the Headmaster said, I don’t think it was intentional, rather that they hoped things would work out.

  None of that information is going to help him at the moment though. So I come up with something a little more positive. “Maybe it was part of the process. Like you had to go back and face your mom before you can find Paige.”

  Rafe purses his lips. “So I have to deal with my mommy issues first? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Maybe? I mean, all kinds of trauma can slow us down, right?”

  With a laugh, Rafe rubs his eyes with a forefinger and thumb. �
�Guess that means I’ll have to go back there.” He shivers. “At some point anyway. Like, after we heal up a little more. Maybe I’ll get to see my dad again too.”

  A smile slides across his face and I lift a brow. “Did you have a better relationship with him?”

  “Much. Though he never…” Rafe shakes his head and rubs his jaw. “He’s a kind of soft-spoken dude, the type of person who doesn’t like to rock the boat. I remember watching him carve these awesome figurines growing up. It was kind of calming to see him do it actually. He made me this killer racing car when I was like, five. I painted it after he was done. In theory, it’s still in my bedroom...I hope so anyway.”

  “That sounds pretty sweet.”

  Rafe nods. “Anway, what about you? Anymore life flashes that might give you an idea of where you need to go? Of how you might have died?”

  “A few, and they weren’t very helpful. At least not in terms of figuring out where my body might be.” I tell him about the vision of the ice cream shop and Cody’s death. “It’s possible that last one is a good place to start, but, if he’s already dead…” I knead an aching spot between my eyebrows.

  “Then why haven’t you run into him?”

  “Exactly. Need to ask Kaz about that too. He said there were other schools for younger ghosts, so maybe that’s where he went. There are lots of questions I should’ve asked when Kaz first brought us here.”

  “It’s a lot to process,” Rafe says. “When I first died I could barely keep my thoughts together, much less come up with semi-intelligent questions.”

  “Are you calling me semi-intelligent?”

  “No. I wouldn’t do that to your face.”

  Rafe laughs and I give him a little shove. He windmills his arms, grabbing one of mine to try and save his balance, but pulls me with him as he tips over backwards. When he hits the ground, I land on top of him, hip to hip, nose to nose. This close I can read every line on his face, see every scar and freckle.

  I breathe him in, barely aware of the pain lingering in my shoulder. “I kind of want to kiss you, Rafe Warren.”