by J. A. White
“This one’s close, but I think it’s acidic, right?” Vivi asked, all business now as she tried to match the pH strip—which had turned light green—to the chart. Cordelia nodded while keeping tabs on the ghost, who was shuffling between the tables on slippered feet and examining each student. She stopped to take a particularly long look at Miranda before continuing her tour.
This one’s out of her ghost zone, just like the gardener, Cordelia thought. But what exactly is she doing? Looking for someone?
Cordelia glanced in Benji’s direction, hoping that he was seeing this, but his back was still turned. Before she could whisper his name, the ghost headed toward her table.
Just ignore her, Cordelia thought, facing forward. She’ll leave soon.
Cordelia retrieved the last Dixie cup from the tray and held it still while Vivi lowered the strip of pH paper into the orange liquid. From the corner of her eye, Cordelia saw the old woman staring down at them. She dismissed Cordelia with a passing glance and bent down to examine Vivi more closely.
“It’s chunky,” Vivi said, scrunching her nose with disgust as she lifted the pH strip. Watching carefully, the old woman imitated the expression. Vivi pushed a strand of hair back over one ear. The old woman did the same.
What’s that all about? Cordelia thought. Ghosts usually ignore the living. Not imitate them.
“You okay?” Vivi asked, waving a hand in front of Cordelia’s eyes. “Is this about what I said before? I’m sorry if I stuck my nose where it doesn’t belong.”
The old woman was still staring at Vivi. Her eyes had grown wide and hungry.
Cordelia felt the back of her neck prickle. Something isn’t right here, she thought.
The ghost clenched her eyes shut, blew out her cheeks like a stubborn child attempting to hold her breath for as long as possible, and placed her hands on Vivi’s shoulders. Cordelia expected Vivi to wince with pain at being touched by a ghost, but she showed no reaction whatsoever.
“I know things might be a little weird right now,” Vivi said, giving Cordelia a smile as the ghost’s face turned red with strain. “But I really hope that we can be friends.”
“Totally,” Cordelia murmured, barely listening. The ghost had begun to fade away. Her now-transparent fingers tightened their grip on Vivi’s shoulders.
“Is everything okay?” Vivi asked. “You look pale.”
The old woman was practically gone now.
Vivi winced and rubbed her temples. “Ow,” she said.
While Cordelia’s mind scrambled to work out what was happening, her instincts screamed at her to get the old woman away from Vivi as quickly as possible. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest Dixie cup and flung its contents at Vivi’s chest. Orange fluid splattered everywhere. Vivi screamed and jumped off her stool, causing the barely visible ghost to lose her grip. She immediately reappeared and snarled at Cordelia, furious at the interruption.
“You’re crazy!” Vivi exclaimed, more baffled than angry. Orange, chunky liquid ran down the front of her white shirt. “No wonder Benji doesn’t like you anymore!”
She ran out of the room.
“Get out of here,” Ms. Jackson said, her voice firmer than Cordelia had ever heard it before. “Right now.”
Cordelia took a step toward the door before she realized that the teacher’s words had not been intended for her.
They were meant for the ghost.
There was no doubt about it. Ms. Jackson was looking directly at the old woman. She has the Sight, Cordelia thought, mouth agape. Even stranger, the ghost seemed scared of the timid teacher. She lowered her head like a wounded dog and began backing away.
Ms. Jackson turned her attention toward Cordelia.
“Sorry,” Cordelia mumbled, raising the Dixie cup in her hand. “It slipped.”
She saw Benji throw his hands into the air: What is wrong with you? Everyone—even the students in the adjoining classrooms—was staring at her.
Except for Mr. Langan. Like Ms. Jackson, he was looking straight at the ghost.
He can see her too? Cordelia thought, her mind reeling.
Ms. Jackson cleared her throat. “Recess detention,” she said. “Three days.”
Cordelia nodded meekly. She thought it was telling that Ms. Jackson didn’t ask her why she’d done it. Why bother? Cordelia thought. She saw the ghost. She knows my reason.
The class returned to relative normalcy. Benji refused to look in her direction. Mason gave Cordelia a nod of approval, as though she had just gained entrance into some club she had never wanted to be a part of.
At least the ghost is gone, Cordelia thought. Through the windows, she could see the old woman shuffle down the hallway. Ms. Straub, who taught health next door, stepped out of her classroom.
The ghost glanced in her direction. Ms. Straub waved her along.
“She can see ghosts too?” Cordelia mumbled under her breath. “You gotta be kidding me!”
Henry gave her a nervous look and slid the tray of samples beyond her reach.
15
Proof
By the end of the week, Cordelia had identified three more teachers who could see the ghosts.
It was hard to miss the signs once you knew to look for them. Mr. Hearn sidestepped a skateboarding spirit so smoothly that he didn’t even spill his coffee. Mrs. LaValle winked at a dead cowboy. Mrs. Machen stared daggers at any ghost that came within ten feet of her until they went away. It was basically the same way she treated the children.
Cordelia found the fact that her math teacher had the Sight of particular interest. For one thing, she was positive that Mrs. Machen had been unable to see the ghosts last year. She also remembered that bizarre afternoon in the lunchroom when Mrs. Machen had pressed her fingers against the window and looked longingly at the view of Mount Washington. It was odd behavior for a woman who had lived her entire life in Ludlow.
And then, of course, there was what had happened to Vivi—the way the ghost vanished as it touched her and seemed to give Vivi a headache, just like the teachers.
It has to be connected, Cordelia thought.
A theory was beginning to develop in her head. It didn’t answer everything—not by a long shot—but it answered some things. Cordelia knew exactly where she needed to go to find out whether she was right, but there was one major problem: If she went alone, any discovery she made would be useless since Benji and Agnes didn’t trust her anymore. She wanted—needed—them to believe her, and right now that would only happen if they witnessed it with their own eyes. It didn’t have to be both of them. Agnes and Benji still trusted each other, so as long as she had one of them to back up her story, everything would be fine.
So which one should she bring?
Agnes would have been her first choice, but there was no way for Cordelia to get her alone and state her case; she spent all day in her little classroom and hardly ever came out. Even when she did, Mr. Derleth was always by her side. She seemed more like a prisoner than a student.
It would have to be Benji.
Now all Cordelia had to do was convince him to help her.
They were playing basketball in gym that day. Last year, Mr. Bruce had always made them stretch and do a few warm-up activities first, then assigned them to teams based on their skill level. He had been far more lax this year. Today, for instance, he just nodded to the ball rack and told them to figure it out. When Cordelia complained of a sore ankle, he shrugged and sent her to the bleachers.
He hasn’t been acting like himself, Cordelia thought. Just like Dr. Roqueni and Mr. Derleth.
Hopefully that meant she had chosen the right teacher for her demonstration.
Benji was lazing on the bleachers with a group of his soccer buddies, including Vivi. To their right, Mason and his crew were making fun of a boy trying to shoot a foul shot.
As soon as Mason saw Cordelia, he redirected his sneer toward her. “Watch out, fellas,” he said. “Here comes crazy.”
Cordelia ignored
him and headed straight for Benji’s group. Vivi regarded Cordelia with a cautious look, as though there might be a Dixie cup filled with mango juice hidden behind her back.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” Cordelia said. “I wish I could explain, but you wouldn’t believe me.”
She stooped down over Benji.
“Run, Núñez! She’s going in for a kiss!” Mason shouted, sending his minions into spasms of snorting, ugly laughter.
“Get lost, Cordelia,” Benji said, turning away. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Watch Mr. Bruce,” she whispered in his ear.
Ignoring the hoots and insults being leveled at her, Cordelia took a seat on the top row of the bleachers. There was another boy sitting there. He looked like he would have been in high school, had he lived. Half his head was shaved clean. The rest of his hair hung over his eyes. His fingernails were painted black.
There was a sketchbook in his lap, open to a blank page.
“Cool pad,” Cordelia said, rummaging through her backpack. “I’m an artist, too.”
She pulled out her fancy set of graphite pencils and selected a freshly sharpened 4B. The boy looked like he might favor darker lines.
“Try this one,” she said, placing the pencil on the bench next to him.
The ghost gave her an aloof nod—as though she had done nothing more than let him borrow a pencil for a math test—and took the Brightkey. A triangle opened high above them. At first Cordelia saw only blue sky, but as she slid along the bleachers and angled her view, she was able to glimpse the Eiffel Tower in the distance.
The boy began to rise.
“What are you doing?” Benji asked, rushing up the bleachers. “Someone will see!”
He had a point: sometimes a triangle’s appearance produced an inexplicable breeze or screwed with nearby electrical devices. Fortunately, this Bright seemed as chill as its owner. Cordelia could smell freshly baked baguettes and hear the ding-ding of a bicycle bell, but that was just because she had the Sight. There was the small matter of the pencil, which would appear to be rising on its own, but everyone was too caught up in their games to notice.
Almost everyone.
“Watch Mr. Bruce,” Cordelia whispered to Benji. “Just don’t look like you’re watching him.”
Benji rolled his eyes but did as she asked. Cor-delia remained focused on the ghost, who dropped his Brightkey—as she suspected he might—and descended to the floor. He paused to give Cordelia an apologetic shrug and floated toward the door of the gym. As the ghost passed Mr. Bruce, the gym teacher gave him a victorious fist pump, as though he had just kicked the winning goal in a championship game.
Cordelia saw Benji’s mouth drop open. She smiled.
Mr. Bruce can see the ghosts, she thought. And now Benji knows it. She even had a theory as to why Mr. Bruce was so happy that the ghost had refused its Bright. A scary, crazy theory that she hoped wasn’t true. But a theory nonetheless.
Benji joined her at the top of the bleachers. “Mr. Bruce has the Sight,” he said, his voice a little shaky. “That’s what you wanted me to see, isn’t it?”
Cordelia nodded.
“How long have you known?”
“About Mr. Bruce? I didn’t. Not for sure. Until just now, I mean.”
Benji scratched his forehead. “Then how did you know I should watch him?”
“Because Mr. Bruce isn’t the only teacher who can see the ghosts. I’ve confirmed six other ones. I’m guessing there’ll be more.”
“That’s impossible. The Sight is super rare.”
“You’re right,” Cordelia said. “That’s why I don’t think it’s the Sight.”
“Hey, Núñez!” Mason called out. “We’re gonna show those losers over there how to play basketball. You in?”
“Later,” Benji said.
“Whatever,” Mason said. He stomped past Vivi, who paused to give Benji and Cordelia a confused look before heading over to join a game of her own.
“What do you mean it’s not the Sight?” Benji asked, taking a seat next to Cordelia. “If these teachers can see ghosts, what else can it be?”
“I have a theory,” Cordelia said. “Just promise me you’ll keep an open mind.”
“Sure. I mean, at this point, how can things get any weirder?”
Cordelia laughed. “Hold on to that thought,” she said. “So, what if it’s not really the teachers who are seeing the ghosts? What if it’s something inside the teachers?”
“Huh?”
“People can’t see ghosts. Not without the Sight. But ghosts can see other ghosts just fine.”
“Ghosts can see other ghosts . . .” Benji muttered, turning the words over in his head. “Are you telling me that these teachers are dead?”
“No,” Cordelia said. “Don’t be ridiculous. They’re just possessed.”
“Possessed?” Benji asked, rubbing the back of his neck. “For real?”
“Open mind! You promised!”
“Mind wide open,” he reassured her. “But we’ve never seen the ghosts possess anyone before. That’s not their thing.”
“Not usually,” Cordelia said, folding her hands on her lap. “Most cases of possession involve demons or other entities. But it’s not unheard of. I read about a few examples online. It would explain how these teachers are able to see the ghosts. And why they’ve been acting so strange. And the headaches! I mean, if a ghost takes control of your brain, it’s bound to make your head hurt!”
“Obviously,” Benji said, still not buying it.
“Plus, there’s what happened with Vivi,” Cordelia said.
Benji leaned forward.
“What does she have to do with it?”
“There was a ghost in science. An old woman. She touched Vivi, and then she started to disappear. I think she was going into Vivi’s body. That’s why I threw the mango juice. I was trying to stop her.”
Benji rubbed his temples with both hands, and Cordelia felt a cold rush of panic.
Oh no, she thought. What if he’s—
“I’m not possessed,” he said, noticing her frightened expression. “This is just a lot.”
“I know.”
“Vivi said you threw the juice at her because you’re jealous.”
Cordelia’s face grew warm. She took a deep breath before replying. “That’s ridiculous. I was trying to scare off the ghost. Vivi would know that if she could see them.”
Benji nodded and played with the strings of his hoodie. “That makes sense, I guess. Why would you be jealous? It’s not like . . . you know?”
“Exactly.”
“But how come I didn’t see this ghost?” Benji asked. “I was right there.”
“Your back was turned.”
Benji looked down at his lap. “That’s kind of convenient,” he said.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You think I’m making this up?”
“I don’t know!” Benji exclaimed. “I want to believe you. Actually, I don’t want to believe you, because this entire possession thing sounds terrifying, but . . . I want to trust you. Like I used to.”
“Then do it!”
“How can I after what you did to the dehaunter?”
“For the last time,” Cordelia said, “I did not touch that stupid thing! Why doesn’t anyone believe me?”
“Because Agnes saw you do it,” Benji said.
Cordelia’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“Agnes went down to the dehaunter to make some final adjustments, and she saw you smashing it to pieces. She told us everything.”
“Agnes said that?”
“Yeah.”
“Agnes Matheson?”
“Why are you so surprised? You were there. You know what you did.”
Cordelia shook her head. “She lied to you.”
“No way,” Benji said. “She could barely tell us what happened because she was crying so hard. Unless Agnes has a side gig as an Academy Award–winning actress, she had to be
telling the truth.”
“But she’s not, Benji. I’d kinda know.”
Cordelia chewed her lower lip, befuddled. Could Agnes have seen someone else who looked like me? Could I have an evil double?
That seemed a stretch, even for Shadow School.
“Why would Agnes lie?” Benji asked.
“I don’t know,” Cordelia said. “I’d ask her, but she doesn’t talk to me anymore.”
“She doesn’t talk to me much, either,” Benji said. “She spends all her time in this one classroom, working on a new dehaunter.” He threw his head back in disgust. “This is all so confusing, but you’re definitely right about one thing. Something weird is going on.”
“So help me figure it out,” Cordelia said. “Let’s start with all these faculty meetings. What are those all about?”
Benji shrugged. “Just boring teacher stuff.”
“I don’t think so,” Cordelia said. “It’s crazy how much they meet. And haven’t you noticed that all this weirdness started about the same time as the meetings? We need to know what they’re up to.”
“But how?” Benji asked. “It’s not like we can just sneak into a”—he sighed, realization setting in—“Oh, man. That’s exactly what you want to do, isn’t it?”
“Pretty much.”
“I don’t know,” Benji said, rising to his feet. “I need to think about this.”
Cordelia grabbed his hand, holding him there a little longer.
“After all we’ve been through, don’t you think I’ve earned a little trust?”
“I’ve gotta go,” Benji said. He ran down the bleachers without turning around once.
Cordelia saw Mr. Bruce watching him with a suspicious expression on his face. His eyes flicked toward Cordelia.
She looked away.
16
Faculty Meeting
Three days later, Cordelia received a text from Benji.
I’m in, he wrote.
Cordelia queued up a line of smiley-face emojis before deciding it was too much. She erased them and responded with a simple Cool.
I’m not saying I believe you, Benji texted. But I don’t not believe you.