by J. A. White
“Mr. Derleth is waiting in the dehaunter room downstairs,” Dr. Roqueni said, looking past the children to fix her hair in the mirror. She regarded Agnes with a cool gaze. “I wanted to confirm that everything was ready to go before telling him to turn it on. There can’t be any mistakes tonight.”
“We’re all set,” Agnes replied. “But it might not be such a good idea to stand so close to the mirror. Just in case.”
“I thought you said this was safe,” Cordelia said.
“I believe the word I used was ‘safe-ish,’” Agnes said.
“That’s not actually a word.”
“Let’s err on the side of caution,” Dr. Roqueni said, backing away nervously. “We’ll be able to see just fine at the other end of the gallery. You have the power set to the lowest possible level, correct?”
“Barely a trickle,” Agnes said, nodding. “Still not sure what the dehaunter does, exactly. Could turn the mirror into a portal that leads outside. Which would be cool. Or it might make an actual Bright appear, which would be awesome!”
“Does it matter?” Benji asked. “The ghosts are gone either way.”
Cordelia saw Dr. Roqueni’s lips twitch, as though she were about to disagree. She changed her mind at the last minute, however, and ushered the children to the opposite end of the gallery, where she raised a walkie-talkie to her lips.
“We’re ready,” she said.
The four of them focused on the mirror behind Hopeless Bob. The ghost glanced behind him, wondering what he was missing.
“Nothing’s happening,” Dr. Roqueni said, squeezing her hands tightly into fists. “Why isn’t anything happening?”
“Give it time,” Agnes said, a bead of nervous sweat running down her cheek. “It needs to warm up first. Like my mom’s car on a cold morning.”
A few moments later there was a sound like water sloshing against the inside of a tin drum, and the reflective surface of the mirror turned black. An invisible force yanked Hopeless Bob toward the mirror. As though reacting to the ghost’s presence, the black surface rippled and changed, revealing a playground on a summer evening. Cordelia heard the squeak of swings and children’s laughter.
“It’s a Bright,” she said, eyes wide with astonishment.
She waited for Hopeless Bob to step forward into the playground, but instead the mirror held him in place while it changed again. This time, it revealed a snowy mountaintop.
It’s searching for the correct Bright, Cordelia thought, watching in fascination as the mirror continued to switch between locations. Finally, it settled on a perfectly ordinary living room. A small TV sat across from a broken-down easy chair with a strip of duct tape on one arm. Hopeless Bob burst into a glorious smile as he floated through the portal.
The mirror immediately turned black again.
“Shut it down,” Dr. Roqueni said into her walkie-talkie.
A few seconds later, the mirror was just a mirror. Benji raised Agnes’s arms into the air and shouted, “MVP, MVP!” Cordelia hugged Agnes close. She still wasn’t sure how she felt about the dehaunter, but she would figure that out later. Right now, she was just proud of her brilliant best friend.
“You really are a genius,” Cordelia whispered in her ear.
Looking over Agnes’s shoulder, she noticed Dr. Roqueni crossing the gallery to stand before the mirror, pressing one hand flat against the glass. Her reflection stared back at her with a dour expression. Cordelia was surprised. She expected the principal to be thrilled that the dehaunter had worked, but her face was shrouded with disappointment.
“Dr. Roqueni?” Cordelia called out. “Everything okay?”
In the mirror, Cordelia saw the principal take a deep breath, as though composing herself. When she turned around, there was a big smile on her face.
“Everything’s wonderful,” she said, folding her hands behind her back. “Our test was a success. The dehaunter works. In a few weeks, we’ll be ready to try it for real.”
“A few weeks?” Benji asked, throwing his hands into the air. “Why wait? Let’s send all these ghosts home right now!”
Dr. Roqueni’s mouth tightened to a thin line.
“That would be an extremely foolhardy course of action,” she said, making her way back across the mirror gallery. “Mr. Derleth and I will need to conduct a full inspection of the dehaunter before moving forward. There may be a few modifications that need to be made before we use it for real.”
“Modifications?” Agnes asked. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure,” Dr. Roqueni replied. “That’s why we need to inspect it. Better safe than sorry.”
“I guess that makes sense,” Agnes said. “We’re playing with a lot of spectral energy here. Like, nuclear- reactor level. It isn’t the type of thing you can mess around with.”
Benji sighed with resignation. “All right,” he said. “I’ve been stuck with the ghosts since the fifth grade. Guess I can wait a few more weeks. What do you think, Cord?”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said, only half listening. Her mind was still trying to make sense of what she had seen in the mirror. Why had Dr. Roqueni looked so disappointed? Hadn’t the dehaunter done exactly what she wanted it to?
What was she hiding from them?
They were on the verge of freeing all the ghosts of Shadow School. Yet Cordelia’s instincts told them they were in more danger than ever.
12
Mount Washington
Seventh-grade lunch was always crazy loud, but the following Monday it was even worse than usual. Cordelia and her friends had to huddle close just to hear one another.
“First thing I’m going to do when all the ghosts are gone,” Benji said through a mouthful of macaroni and cheese, “is walk through every inch of Shadow School and enjoy the fact that no one is watching me do it. Then I’m finally going to try out for this travel team that plays soccer all over New Hampshire. See what it’s like to have some real competition for a change. How about you, Ag?”
“It’s different for me,” she said. “I can’t see them, so it’s not that big of a change.”
“Come on,” Benji said. “There must be something.”
Agnes thoughtfully swirled her spoon through her organic yogurt.
“I guess there’s this one thing,” she said. “It’s a year-long STEM program for gifted girls that I’ve dreamed of joining since I was in first grade. It’s taught by real scientists! They only admit ten girls in the entire state, so it’s super competitive.”
“That sounds awesome, Ag,” Cordelia said. “When do you apply?”
“I did,” she said with a downcast look.
“They didn’t let you in?” Benji asked, mortified on her behalf. “These people are clearly not as smart as you think they are.”
“They actually offered me a spot,” Agnes said, unable to meet their eyes. “Full scholarship too. But I had to turn them down. It was every day after school and a ton of extra homework. I couldn’t do all that and our ghost stuff too.”
Cordelia stared at her, stunned.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. “I’m your best friend. I would’ve talked you into it!”
“Would you?” Agnes asked. “Or would you have told me that my first responsibility was to the ghosts? I was afraid to take the chance.”
Cordelia wanted to defend herself, but she suspected that Agnes was right. She looked down, feeling like a horrible friend.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“No worries,” Agnes said, brightening. “I can reapply next year. They said there’s a spot waiting for me. Apparently I’m ‘special.’”
“I could have told them that,” Cordelia said.
“What about you, Cord?” Benji asked. “Once we’re a ghost-free school, what’s the first thing you’re going to do?”
Cordelia thought about it. All she really wanted to do was keep spending time with Benji and Agnes. But she had noticed that neither of their post-haunting scenarios included h
er, so she felt stupid telling them that.
“Mr. Keene seems cool, so I’ll probably join Art Club,” she said. “Maybe start painting more.”
“Nice,” Benji said. He turned toward Agnes. “Any idea when the big day is, by the way? And are we having a party? We should have a party.”
“I have to recalibrate the pyramids first,” she said, “and check to make sure everything is in peak working condition. There’s a lot more power coming through this time, so we have to be careful.”
“Can I help?” Cordelia asked.
“Sure!” Agnes exclaimed.
“So how does this work long-term?” Benji asked. “Do we just flick the dehaunter on every so often and clear the ghosts out? Like vacuuming?”
Agnes shook her head. “The next time we turn the dehaunter on, it stays on for good,” she said. “It’ll always be running in the background. Nothing can stop the ghosts from coming, but the dehaunter can make sure their stay is a short one. Shadow School will be like an airport terminal where ghosts wait around for a few hours until they’re sent to their final destination.”
“Jet Boo!” Benji exclaimed, and both girls groaned.
“I actually have to talk to Dr. Roqueni before I can even get started,” Agnes said. “She made me promise I wouldn’t do anything without consulting her first.”
“Did you guys think she was acting a little weird the other night?” Cordelia asked.
“She seemed fine to me,” Benji said. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Cordelia said. “She seemed almost disappointed that the dehaunter worked. I know that sounds crazy, but—”
“Hey, guys!” Vivi said, sliding next to Benji. She spun a green-and-white soccer ball in her hands. “Beware the special today. Ms. Hawkins has been binge-watching cooking shows and is trying to get a little creative with her recipes. Apparently, she put peanut butter and chocolate chips in the meat loaf.”
“Hi,” Cordelia said, forcing a smile. “We were kind of in the middle of—”
“These are adorable,” Vivi said, reaching over to touch Cordelia’s earrings. “I love mice.”
“They’re not mice,” Cordelia replied, flustered. “They’re rats.”
“Cool.”
“It’s not that I like rats. No one likes rats.”
“I like rats,” Agnes said.
“It’s a Chinese zodiac thing,” Cordelia continued. “I was born in the Year of the Rat. My nainai bought these for me when I was in San Francisco.”
“Nainai?”
“Grandma.”
“Nainai,” Vivi repeated. “I love the sound of that. It makes me miss my abuela, though. She’s the only one who ever bought me jewelry.” A hint of sadness cracked her smile, but it didn’t last for long. “You playing today?” she asked Benji, tossing him the soccer ball. She and Benji often played together behind the school during recess. “Mason’s talking smack because we lost yesterday. I figured you’d want revenge.”
“That’s my goal!” Benji exclaimed. “Get it? Goal?”
Vivi looked at the other two girls and rolled her eyes. Agnes started to laugh, then saw Cordelia’s serious expression and cleared her throat instead.
“I thought we were going to the library during recess,” Cordelia said. “I still had some things I wanted to talk to you about”—she paused, catching herself before she revealed too much in front of Vivi—“our math homework.”
“I wouldn’t go to the library,” Vivi said. “Francesca said Ms. Mooney’s been acting really strange lately. Why don’t you play with us instead?”
“Sorry,” Cordelia said, glaring at Benji. “I have more important things to do.”
She picked up her tray of half-eaten fries and dumped it in the trash can, feeling their eyes on her back. Why is Vivi sitting at our table? she thought. We’re supposed to be talking about the ghosts, not stupid soccer games at stupid recess.
A football smacked into the trash can, nearly hitting her in the arm.
“Seriously?” Cordelia screamed at Mason James as he retrieved the ball. Mason ignored her and whizzed the football across the lunchroom. It skipped along a table—knocking down cartons of chocolate milk like bowling pins—before one of Mason’s pals snagged it and broke into an elaborate dance. Looking around the lunchroom, Cordelia saw that they weren’t the only ones fooling around. There were a bunch of kids using their cell phones and even a few building a tower out of milk cartons.
Why aren’t they getting in trouble? Cordelia thought, scanning the lunchroom. At first, she didn’t see any teacher at all, which would have explained it. But then she saw a single woman staring out the large window in the back.
“Mrs. Machen?” she mumbled to herself in disbelief.
Cordelia’s math teacher was the last person she would have expected to let the kids misbehave. Whenever she was on lunch duty, even the bad kids kept their conversations to a whisper. Despite her age, Mrs. Machen still had eagle eyes that could catch a student pulling out a phone or chewing gum from a mile away.
Right now, she was ignoring them completely.
“Everything okay, Mrs. Machen?” Cordelia asked.
Mrs. Machen didn’t seem to hear her. She was standing so close to the window that her breath misted the glass.
“Mrs. Machen?” Cordelia repeated, taking a step closer. “You’re scaring me a little here.”
“It’s spectacular,” Mrs. Machen said.
Cordelia couldn’t argue with that. The window offered a breathtaking view of the White Mountains, particularly Mount Washington, which towered over the neighboring peaks. Cordelia preferred Ludlow’s pride and joy in the winter, when it was topped with snow, but there was no denying its majesty even now.
“My parents and I drove up to the top last year,” Cordelia said. “I couldn’t believe how close the car gets to the edge. My mom’s hands turned white, she was clenching the steering wheel so hard. Have you been?”
Mrs. Machen shook her head.
“Oh,” Cordelia said, surprised. Mrs. Machen had lived in Ludlow her entire life, so Cordelia figured that scaling Mount Washington would be old hat by now. “You should definitely check it out. It’s even cooler from the top.”
Mrs. Machen slowly turned her head and regarded Cordelia with a crooked smile. “Soon,” she said.
13
Blame
Heart pounding, Cordelia ran through a once-magnificent kitchen that had been demoted to storage room, the disgraced island at its center weighted down with moldering boxes of files and textbooks. Only the old dumbwaiter in the back wall remained unchanged. Essentially a tiny elevator for objects instead of people, it had once been used to transport trays of food to the dining room directly above them.
Like so many things in Shadow School, the dumbwaiter had a secret.
Cordelia pulled its rolling door halfway closed three times in a row, and then all the way down once. When she opened the door again, the back wall had slid out of view, revealing an entrance into darkness. After clicking her trusty flashlight to life, Cordelia squeezed through the hole and joined the narrow pyramid passageway that started in the boiler room. She hurried upward, the sloped floor winding like the stairs of a tower, until she reached the wooden walkway that scraped the bottom of the roof. Even with the flashlight, it was difficult to see. A few work lights hung from the thick wire that ran from pyramid to pyramid, but they were like fireflies against the windowless dark.
“Sorry I’m late!” she exclaimed, seeing Benji and Agnes. “I meant to come here straightaway, but . . .”
“You freed a few ghosts first,” Benji said. “We figured.”
“How’d it go?” Agnes asked.
“Zero for three,” Cordelia said. “Right Brightkeys, no takers.”
“Agnes was just explaining how all this works,” Benji said, shining his flashlight across the strange latticework that lined the inside of the walls. “Basically, these webs are like solar panels. Only instead of soakin
g up energy from the sun, they soak up energy from the ghosts.”
“Check this out,” Agnes said.
She twisted one of the triangles, and a circle of purplish light spread across the wall. It reminded Cordelia of a field trip she had once taken to a cavern known for its luminescent minerals.
“Pretty,” she said.
“The same thing happens in the other passageway,” Agnes said. “Only the light there isn’t purple—it’s kind of this lime green. I’m not sure why it’s different.”
Agnes twisted the triangle back to its original position, and the light vanished. She then ran her fingers along a thin copper wire that connected the wall to a thicker wire running over their heads. “That energy passes along here and gathers in one of the black pyramids, which sends it down to the dehaunter. Our job today is to make sure that each of these thin wires is properly connected. They fall off easily.”
Agnes demonstrated on a dangling wire behind Cordelia, pinching it between two fingers, then kneeling down to pull it closer to the web. “Can I get some light, please?” she asked, and Cordelia shone her flashlight over the place where Agnes was working. Slowly and methodically, she threaded the wire through a tiny metal bracket and pulled it taut.
Benji spun around, raising his flashlight so it illuminated the walls behind them.
“What is it?” Cordelia asked.
“Thought I saw something,” he said. “Probably nothing.”
They continued along the narrow passageway, checking each wire carefully, until they reached one of the black pyramids. There was a neon-green sticky note stuck to its surface with Banquo written in black Sharpie.
“Banquo?” Benji asked.
“I named the pyramids after famous ghosts so I could keep them straight,” Agnes said with a slight flush of embarrassment. “Banquo is from Macbeth. Marley and Zero are right around the bend. The other passageway has my favorites, though. Blinky, Pinky, Inky, and Clyde!”
Benji and Cordelia stared at her blankly.