by J. A. White
9
Vivi’s Party
School settled into its familiar routines. Tests were given. Class pictures taken. Friendships forged. October snuck up on them with a sucker punch of cold New England air, sending parents scurrying for winter clothes that had been stored for later in the year.
Cordelia settled into a routine of her own, rescuing ghosts in the mornings and occasionally staying after school when there wasn’t a faculty meeting. On most days, she worked alone. Benji usually had soccer practice, and even when he did join her, he spent a lot of time checking his phone. Agnes had stopped rescuing ghosts entirely so she could concentrate on the dehaunter. Cordelia still had reservations about the machine, but what could she really say? It wasn’t like things were going so great with the Brightkeys. A growing number of ghosts were tossing them away at the last minute and vanishing soon afterward.
Cordelia wondered where they had gone.
Since Agnes would be visiting her dad in Boston, Cor-delia planned on spending Halloween at home, handing out candy to the neighborhood kids. With only a few days to spare, however, Benji offered an alternate plan: Viviana was throwing a party at her house, and they were both invited. Cordelia was reluctant at first, but Benji finally convinced her to go. Since there weren’t many options left at the costume store, Cordelia settled on black leggings, a makeup stick that she could use to draw a nose and whiskers, and pointy cat ears. It was better than nothing.
At six o’clock, Mr. and Mrs. Núñez drove them to Vivi’s house, a modest split-level at the end of a dark road. Cordelia could hear music inside. Several jack-o’-lanterns with lopsided grins sat on the front steps.
Cordelia tugged at the sleeve of Benji’s soccer jersey. “How is this a costume again?”
“I told you. I’m Dave. And he’s me.”
“And I would know this because . . .”
Benji pointed to his back. “This is number ten! That’s Dave’s number. I’m number twelve!” He sighed with frustration. “Everyone at the party will get it—there’re going to be a ton of soccer kids. Vivi’s the goalie for the girls’ team. She’s awesome!”
“Of course she is,” Cordelia muttered.
Benji rang the doorbell. A bubbly woman who Cordelia assumed was Mrs. Martínez shrieked with joy and wrapped Benji in a huge hug.
“¿No te ves guapo? ¡Viviana! ¡Tu novio está aquí!”
Color bloomed in Benji’s cheeks.
“What did she say?” Cordelia asked.
“Nothing,” Benji said, clearly not wanting to tell her.
Several other adults, all speaking Spanish at once, rushed to greet Benji. A man wearing a wizard hat slung an arm around his shoulders as though he were part of the family and led him deeper into the house. The others followed.
Cordelia was left alone in the foyer.
“No problem,” she said. “I’ll just, you know, find my way to the party. It’s cool.”
She started toward the sound of music, but before she had taken three steps Vivi bounded into the room. Cordelia’s heart plummeted.
They were wearing the same costume.
“Cat power,” Vivi said with a smile, giving her a hug. Cordelia caught a whiff of perfume. “You look so cute.”
“You too,” Cordelia said.
Except Vivi didn’t look cute. She looked amazing. Compared to her, Cordelia felt like a scrawny, one-eared tomcat that dumpster-dived in alleyways.
“My family stole Benji, didn’t they?” Vivi asked with a grin. “He’s kind of a rock star around here. I’ll have to rescue him later. Come on, I’ll take you downstairs.”
They passed the kitchen, where an older woman wearing an apron was frying plantains, and continued through a small den. Dozens of trophies lined the shelves.
“Are these all yours?” Cordelia asked.
Vivi rolled her eyes. “Sorry. I keep telling my dad to stick these somewhere else, but he’s a little extra when it comes to sports. I’ve been playing soccer since I was big enough to kick the ball.”
“Don’t you like it?”
Vivi looked surprised by the question, as though she had never considered it before. “It’s what I do,” she said. “How about you? You play any sports?”
“I can throw a Frisbee sort of straight. That’s about it.”
“How about boys?”
“How about them?”
“Is there someone you like?” Vivi asked. It was a casual, do-we-have-math-homework-tonight sort of tone, but her smile was nervous. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
Benji, Cordelia thought. She wants to know if I’m into Benji.
Cordelia hesitated, unsure how to respond now that she had decoded Vivi’s reason for asking. In the end, she decided to stick with the truth.
“I have too many other things on my mind right now to think about boys,” Cordelia said.
“Like what?” Vivi asked, unable to hide the look of relief in her eyes.
Cordelia shrugged. “School stuff.”
They went into the basement, which was packed with kids. Most of them were sitting on the floor or in foldable plastic chairs, playing with their phones. Mason James and his crew were killing zombies on the TV. Only a few people had bothered to wear a costume.
Benji waved in their direction, and Vivi cut through the crowd and gave him a quick, awkward hug. Cor-delia wondered if he liked her perfume. Within mo-ments, a group of kids brushed past Cordelia as though she wasn’t there and formed a circle around Benji and Vivi. Many were wearing blue soccer jerseys with LUDLOW BOBCATS emblazoned across the front. Cordelia had never spoken to any of them, but she knew their names. Benji talked about his teammates a lot.
“Cool party,” a boy named Aaron O’Sullivan told Vivi. He was a rail-thin eighth grader who always seemed to be snacking on something; right now it was handful of Skittles. “Kelly said she’ll drop by later. Her parents are making her go trick-or-treating with her little sister first.”
“Lame,” said Lizzie Blevins. A single AirPod dangled from her ear like a misplaced earring. “I’m so glad I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”
“What about Eric?” Benji asked.
“He doesn’t count,” replied Lizzie.
“You guys are so lucky you didn’t have practice today,” Vivi told the boys. “Ms. Simmons kept us until five. I barely had time to get ready for the party.”
“We were supposed to scrimmage, but Mr. Bruce had another headache,” said Dave Gagnon, a stocky midfielder wearing sports goggles. “He canceled it at the last minute.”
“Ms. Patel was complaining about a headache during class yesterday,” said Aaron. “Must be a teacher virus or something.”
“Nice,” said Lizzie. “Maybe they’ll all be absent on Monday.”
“Don’t say that,” said Vivi. “I like our teachers.”
“You like everyone,” said Lizzie. An accusation, not a compliment.
“I actually dropped by the gym after school to ask Mr. Bruce if practice was going to be canceled tomorrow,” said Dave. “I thought he might have gone home early, because the lights were off, but he was still there.”
Dave’s voice grew softer, and the group gathered around him in a tight huddle. Cordelia stood on her tiptoes in order to peek over Lizzie’s shoulder.
“It was freaky,” Dave continued. “Mr. Bruce was just walking from one side of the gym to the other. Only he wasn’t walking normal. More like stumbling.”
“He was totally drunk,” Lizzie said with an eager smile.
“That’s not funny,” Vivi said. “And don’t start spreading any rumors. Mr. Bruce just has the flu or something.”
Cordelia knew that Vivi was probably right. Winter was around the corner, and the teachers had been spending a lot of time together during their meetings. It made logical sense that a few of them, including Dr. Roqueni, had gotten sick.
Then why didn’t Mr. Bruce just go home? Why hang out in the gym, walking back and forth in the dark?
If Cordelia had attended another school, she probably would have let it go. But this was Shadow School. The logical explanation wasn’t always the right one.
“Did you notice anything else that was odd?” she asked Dave, who looked startled that a nonsoccer person was speaking to him. “Did the gym lights start flickering on and off? Was it colder than usual? Did you hear—”
“Hey,” said Aaron, looking back and forth from Dave to Benji. “Did you guys switch jerseys?”
“Yeah!” Benji exclaimed, thrilled that someone had noticed. “We’re being each other for Halloween!”
“Awesome!”
This was followed by an epic series of high fives that involved hands, elbows, and feet. By the time they were done, no one seemed to recall that Cordelia had been talking. She wandered over to the snack table and ladled punch into a cup, dodging the plastic eyeballs bobbing to the surface. From the corner of her eye, she saw a boy with extremely pale skin standing in the corner. She spun around with her first real smile of the night, hoping to see a ghost, but it was just Grant Thompson. He had been sick all week.
Cordelia checked the time. Only three hours and forty minutes to go.
She took a seat on the couch next to a figure wearing a white sheet with eyeholes. Somehow, he or she was still managing to send a text.
“Is it okay if I sit here for a while?” Cordelia asked.
The ghost nodded.
Settling into her seat, Cordelia drank her punch and thought about her conversation with Dr. Roqueni. Ghosts are cursed to exist among the living, even though they no longer belong in that world. Can you imagine what that’s like?
Cordelia thought she could.
10
Window Room
Cordelia stepped off the bus Monday morning and saw Darius Shadow sitting on a bench outside the school. He was holding the brass key that usually hung from his neck and staring at it with a thoughtful expression. Cordelia froze, unsure what to do. Dr. Roqueni had warned her to keep her distance, but what harm could come from saying hello? He was just an old man, and he looked so sad, sitting there all alone.
I’ll just stop for a second to make sure he’s okay, Cordelia decided. Then I’ll head straight inside.
“Good morning, Mr. Shadow,” she said.
Darius looked up at her and smiled. “Ahh,” he said. “My friend from the attic! We meet again!”
“My name’s Cordelia,” she said.
Darius whistled, impressed. “That’s quite a moniker,” he said. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met a Cordelia before.”
“My parents got it from a Shakespeare play. I hated it when I was a little girl. But I don’t mind it so much anymore.”
“Good,” Darius said. “You should be proud of the name your folks gave you. Besides, there are enough Elizabeths and Katies in the world. Cordelia’s unique. It suits you.”
Darius turned the brass key in his weathered hands. The key had a long shaft and decorative bow, like something you might find in the antique shops Cor-delia’s dad sometimes dragged her to on rainy Sundays. A black leather cord, knotted at one end so it could be worn around the neck, dangled from the key like a tail.
“What does it open?” Cordelia asked.
“Nothing anymore,” Darius said. “But that doesn’t mean it isn’t valuable. This was the key to the very first house that Elijah Shadow built. After his beloved wife, Hallie, died, he couldn’t bear living there anymore. But he saved the key and gave it to their daughter, Wilma.”
“The one who told you ghost stories when you were a kid,” Cordelia said, taking a seat next to him on the bench.
“You remembered,” Darius said with a grin. “Grandma Wilma wore it every day of her life and gifted it to me on her deathbed. Not my sister. Not my brother. Me. She knew who really loved the Shadow family.” He pinched the key tightly between his fingers. “When there’s a museum built to honor Elijah’s contributions to the world, this key will sit in a huge display case right in the front entrance. Millions of people will come to see it!”
As Darius spoke about his imaginary museum, an obsessive gleam swept over his eyes. It was the look of a man who wouldn’t let anything stand in his way. For a moment, Cordelia understood why Dr. Roqueni felt her uncle was dangerous. Then the moment passed, and Darius turned to her and smiled, looking once more like a harmless old man. He looped the black cord over his neck, restoring the key to its usual position next to his heart.
“Looks like November’s been born with a full set of teeth this year,” Darius said, rubbing his hands together for warmth. “Never could get used to the weather up here. These old bones were made for the sun.”
“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Cordelia said, realizing that she should get to class. “Should I let Dr. Roqueni know you’re here?”
“She already knows. I knocked on her office door not ten minutes ago. Alas, she wasn’t too keen to see me. When I refused to leave, she asked a few of her teachers to escort me out the door.”
“Seriously?” Cordelia asked. She knew Dr. Roqueni didn’t trust her uncle, but kicking him out seemed a little harsh. “Is she mad at you or something?”
“Aria is always mad at me,” Darius said, hanging his head low. “And I can’t say I blame her. When she was just a girl, I didn’t always have her best interests at heart.”
“Have you told her you’re sorry?”
Darius unleashed a bitter laugh. “More times than I can count,” he said. “But I guess she still has trouble believing me when I say I’m worried about her.”
“Worried about her?” Cordelia asked. “Why?”
“It might be nothing,” Darius said. “But during my visit this summer, Aria was acting strange. She refused to leave the school and kept complaining that her head hurt. And then one time, I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and Aria was staring at the mirror, making faces.” Darius gave an exaggerated smile, then wiped a hand over his face and frowned. “Like an actor practicing for a part.”
A cold breeze kicked up a pile of leaves by the curb. Cordelia watched them skitter across the pavement.
“Dr. Roqueni’s been working hard lately,” Cordelia said, trying to make sense of what Darius was telling her. “Lots of teacher meetings. I know when my mom’s stressed out she gets migraines and can’t sleep, so maybe it’s like that.”
“Maybe,” Darius said, but she could tell he didn’t really believe it. He pulled out his wallet and handed Cordelia a business card. “Could you do me a favor and keep an eye on her? Call me if you notice anything unusual. Or just shoot me a text. I’m not that old.”
Cordelia stared down at the card. It was cream colored with Darius’s name and phone number printed in an elegant font. She wanted to believe that Darius was just concerned about his niece. But it was strange that he was offering his phone number to a twelve-year-old.
Remember what Dr. Roqueni said, she thought. You can’t trust him.
“Sorry,” Cordelia said, trying to return the card. “But I don’t know how I can help. I barely see Dr. Roqueni.”
“My apologies,” Darius said. “I assumed that since you were helping my niece this summer, you might be a particular favorite of hers. I know teachers and principals aren’t supposed to have favorites, of course. But they’re only human. It happens. Especially if the adult and child have similar . . . interests.”
He gave her a knowing smile. You can see ghosts, his eyes seemed to say. Why don’t you just admit it?
Cordelia kept her expression blank and shook her head.
“Dr. Roqueni is the principal. I’m a student. That’s all there is to it.”
A fleeting look of disappointment passed over Darius’s face.
“Well, keep your eyes open, just in case,” he said, rising to his feet. “You seem like an unusually observant child. In fact, I bet you see all sorts of things that no one else does.”
As Darius shuffled his way across the parking lot, Cordeli
a realized that his card was still in her hand. She considered tossing it into a trash can, then stuffed it into her pocket instead. She didn’t know exactly why.
On their way to first period, Cordelia told Benji and Agnes about her encounter with Darius Shadow.
“Why does he think that you can see ghosts?” Benji asked.
Agnes rolled her eyes. “He found you guys in a dark attic, in a haunted school, in the summer,” she said. “It wouldn’t take a dendrochronologist to figure it out.”
“A den-what?” Benji asked.
“Dendrochronologist. They study tree rings. It’s a lot harder than it sounds.”
“Mr. Shadow definitely has his suspicions about me,” Cordelia said. “Probably you too, Benj. But as long as we keep playing dumb, there’s no way for him to know for sure.”
“Good,” Benji said. “I don’t trust that guy.”
“He’s not so bad,” replied Cordelia. “And he definitely cares about Dr. Roqueni. He’s worried about her.”
“Because she made some funny faces in a mirror?” Benji asked. “Big deal. My little sisters do that all the time.”
“Your sisters are seven,” Cordelia said. “It’s a little different. Also—remember what your friend Dave said about Mr. Bruce? How he was walking back and forth across the gym in the dark?”
“What about it?”
“Well, that’s weird. Just like Dr. Roqueni looking in the mirror. And they both had headaches—Ms. Patel too. That has to be more than just a coincidence. We should look into it.”
Cordelia watched her friends exchange a dubious look. Clearly, they weren’t seeing it.
“My aunt is a teacher,” Benji said. “She says her students give her headaches all the time. We actually get her a giant bottle of Tylenol every year for Christmas.” He chuckled to himself. “And a cheese grater, but that’s another story.”
“I’m with Benji on this one,” said Agnes. “This is Shadow School. If the teachers weren’t acting odd, it would be . . . odd. I’m sure it’s nothing.”