my neck was cold but my forehead . . . my forehead, oh God. I couldn’t move and it was crawling toward the bed; one hand was on the mattress oh—
Come to me come to me come to me come to me come to me.
It was on my chest, it was pressing down—
“God!” I screamed, and sat upright.
The light flashed on. My shoulders heaved. I gathered up my damp hair and tried to catch my breath.
“Lindsay?” Julie said.
“Bad dream,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I put one hand over my forehead and one hand over my heart. I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack.
“What was it?” she asked me. “What did you dream?”
My mind was fuzz. I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
And I didn’t want to know. I was so scared I was afraid I was about to throw up. But the thought of getting out of bed and going into the bathroom—
Come to me. She said it five times and so that means—
I licked my lips. “I’m okay,” I said.
Bodily cavities . . .
But I wasn’t.
eight
October 29
Cat, canary.
Moth, flame.
Antelope, Serengeti: that was me, racing to catch up in every single class. I already knew that high school was designed to cull the herd: cut out the dopers, the surfers, and all the other varieties of losers, so the rest of us could become productive citizens and keep the world turning. But at Marlwood, the “losers” were doing better than the top of my previous heap. I had extra assignments and those assignments had assignments.
As I tried not to panic, everyone else talked about tonight’s big prank, the one featuring Julie as a big helper. It was going to be a showstopper. Seemed that there was a whole other Marlwood at Marlwood: at least a dozen buildings that were off-limits to us. They were condemned as unsafe, boarded off, locked up tight. In other words, forbidden fruit.
So, of course, they were supposed to be haunted.
And rather than blow her entire budget of fifty thousand dollars on the “regular” haunted house for the school carnival, Mandy Winters had seized possession of one of these buildings, and refurbished it for major scares. Julie got the downlow, including the names of the victims: two of the other richest girls on campus. Alis DeChancey and Sangeeta Shankhar.
“It’s going to be a Chamber of Horrors,” Julie said in a gravely, creepy voice as we staggered out of Tuttle Hall after last period, weighed down by names and dates of the American Revolution. Tuttle was one of the four brick buildings where we had classes. The gym was on our right; the naked Greek athletes gazed down at us with their blank stone eyes.
At my questioning look, she went on, “The prank will be in this super-ultracondemned building that used to be an insane asylum. It’s the most haunted building on the campus.”
“I thought Jessel was the most haunted,” I said, as I felt a flutter of panic. Not because of the chills and thrills, but because I really didn’t have time to go watch a prank. I couldn’t remember the name of George Washington’s wartime aide-decamp, and if Jefferson or Jackson had owned Monticello. “And this place was never an insane asylum. It was a family retreat.” I tried to remember the history of Marlwood. “And a girls school a long time ago. During the American Revolution,” I added lamely.
“ After the Civil War. So they said .” Julie wagged her brows. “But we know different. It was a loony bin.”
We. I suppressed a sigh. I wanted to remind her that she was the one who was so afraid of Marlwood’s ghosts that she had gotten a roommate.
Sneaking out when you lived on campus wasn’t much different from sneaking out when you lived at home. It turned out that Julie and I were supposed to show up at ten, giving me lots of time to study. The prank was scheduled for midnight and everyone knew about it. Half our dorm was planning to watch. The other half was too afraid they’d get in trouble. Smart girls.
Julie helped
Come to me come to me come to me come to me come to me.
It was on my chest, it was pressing down—
“God!” I screamed, and sat upright.
The light flashed on. My shoulders heaved. I gathered up my damp hair and tried to catch my breath.
“Lindsay?” Julie said.
“Bad dream,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry.” I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. I put one hand over my forehead and one hand over my heart. I was afraid I was going to have a heart attack.
“What was it?” she asked me. “What did you dream?”
My mind was fuzz. I shook my head. “I don’t know.”
And I didn’t want to know. I was so scared I was afraid I was about to throw up. But the thought of getting out of bed and going into the bathroom—
Come to me. She said it five times and so that means—
I licked my lips. “I’m okay,” I said.
Bodily cavities . . .
But I wasn’t.
eight
October 29
Cat, canary.
Moth, flame.
Antelope, Serengeti: that was me, racing to catch up in every single class. I already knew that high school was designed to cull the herd: cut out the dopers, the surfers, and all the other varieties of losers, so the rest of us could become productive citizens and keep the world turning. But at Marlwood, the “losers” were doing better than the top of my previous heap. I had extra assignments and those assignments had assignments.
As I tried not to panic, everyone else talked about tonight’s big prank, the one featuring Julie as a big helper. It was going to be a showstopper. Seemed that there was a whole other Marlwood at Marlwood: at least a dozen buildings that were off-limits to us. They were condemned as unsafe, boarded off, locked up tight. In other words, forbidden fruit.
So, of course, they were supposed to be haunted.
And rather than blow her entire budget of fifty thousand dollars on the “regular” haunted house for the school carnival, Mandy Winters had seized possession of one of these buildings, and refurbished it for major scares. Julie got the downlow, including the names of the victims: two of the other richest girls on campus. Alis DeChancey and Sangeeta Shankhar.
“It’s going to be a Chamber of Horrors,” Julie said in a gravely, creepy voice as we staggered out of Tuttle Hall after last period, weighed down by names and dates of the American Revolution. Tuttle was one of the four brick buildings where we had classes. The gym was on our right; the naked Greek athletes gazed down at us with their blank stone eyes.
At my questioning look, she went on, “The prank will be in this super-ultracondemned building that used to be an insane asylum. It’s the most haunted building on the campus.”
“I thought Jessel was the most haunted,” I said, as I felt a flutter of panic. Not because of the chills and thrills, but because I really didn’t have time to go watch a prank. I couldn’t remember the name of George Washington’s wartime aide-decamp, and if Jefferson or Jackson had owned Monticello. “And this place was never an insane asylum. It was a family retreat.” I tried to remember the history of Marlwood. “And a girls school a long time ago. During the American Revolution,” I added lamely.
“ After the Civil War. So they said .” Julie wagged her brows. “But we know different. It was a loony bin.”
We. I suppressed a sigh. I wanted to remind her that she was the one who was so afraid of Marlwood’s ghosts that she had gotten a roommate.
Sneaking out when you lived on campus wasn’t much different from sneaking out when you lived at home. It turned out that Julie and I were supposed to show up at ten, giving me lots of time to study. The prank was scheduled for midnight and everyone knew about it. Half our dorm was planning to watch. The other half was too afraid they’d get in trouble. Smart girls.
Julie helped
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