by Sarah Kuhn
“Where has our little fairy friend led us, then?” Aveda said, her eyes narrowing at the bouncing burst of light.
This office was actually pretty spacious compared to the other offices in Morgan Hall—you could have easily fit three of my cramped grad student offices in here. It probably belonged to someone much more important in the college ecosystem. The desk was cluttered with stacks of books, papers, and a battered Morgan College mug stuffed with pens. I tried the light switch, already half knowing it wasn’t going to work. That seemed to be a recurring problem at Morgan.
The floating light bobbed lower, hovering over the nameplate on the desk.
Aveda and I moved closer to investigate.
“Wait a minute . . .” Aveda breathed out, her eyes narrowing at the nameplate.
Gloria Glennon, Provost
“This is Provost Glennon’s office?” I exclaimed. We’d planned on poking around until we found it, but our little light friend had led us straight here.
We stared at the light for a moment, as if it might provide further guidance. But it just bobbed in place . . . then swept itself over to another door, which led to a tiny bathroom.
“Oh!” I said, my need to pee returning with a vengeance. “I think it is trying to help us. Hold on.”
I darted in, did the challenging work of wriggling out of my red jumpsuit, and relieved my poor bladder.
“It’s just hanging out up there,” Aveda said, gesturing to the ceiling as I emerged from the bathroom. The light burst had taken up residence in the far right corner of the office and looked serene again, bobbing in place. “I can’t tell what it’s doing, what it wants . . .”
“Maybe it wants us to accomplish our original mission,” I said, crossing the room to Provost Glennon’s desk. I scanned the surface of the desk, poking around among the books and papers. No laptop. That meant we’d need to look for the paper versions of the donor files. “Keep an eye on the light,” I said, kneeling down next to the desk. “I’m about to potentially destroy more college property.”
I channeled all my feelings into my fire, making a small flame spark in the palm of my hand. Then I held that up to the desk, looking for the bottom drawer Julie Vũ had described. It was just as she’d said—hidden underneath the tabletop of the desk, so tiny you’d definitely mistake it for mere decoration at first glance.
I jiggled the handle and it popped right open. Apparently it wasn’t so secret that Provost Glennon was worried about anyone checking out its contents. I peered inside—it seemed to be stuffed full of papers, not organized with any rhyme or reason. I pulled them all out and plopped them on top of the desk, settling myself into Provost Glennon’s chair.
“Are these all secret donor records?” I murmured, shuffling through the stack.
“I don’t know,” Aveda said. “But you’d think she’d keep them in somewhat better order if they’re such important documents.” She was keeping her eyes glued to the little light burst hanging out by the ceiling. It was still bobbing in place, not going anywhere.
I turned back to the sheaf of papers and pawed through, skimming their contents. Some of them contained a multitude of grids and spreadsheets, documenting the college’s overall financial health.
I sifted through more papers. Enrollment figures, faculty budgets, and what looked suspiciously like Provost Glennon’s dry cleaning bill—until finally, I found what I was looking for. It was yet another spreadsheet with a neat column of names and figures—and a helpful heading at the top identifying it as TOP DONORS—CONFIDENTIAL.
“Got it,” I said, giving a triumphant fist-pump.
I pulled the donor list free from Provost Glennon’s stack of papers, stuffed the rest back in the drawer, and closed it up tight. Then I folded the list up so I could stuff it in my pocket—wait a minute. My catsuit didn’t actually have pockets. Why were official superheroine costumes so non-functional?
“Here,” Aveda said, reaching out a hand. “I’ve got it.”
She tucked it into a pocket on the underside of her cape.
“Oh my god,” I said, getting to my feet. “Your cape has pockets?”
“Of course,” she said with an elegant shrug. “Why wouldn’t it?”
I was opening my mouth to retort when we heard the light patter of footsteps downstairs. We both froze.
“Did some of the ghost crawlers linger behind?” Aveda whispered. “Or are those our echo ghosts again?”
We both shut up again, instinctively moving to hide behind one of Provost Glennon’s tall bookcases. Our friend the tiny light burst stayed up in the corner, still bobbing in place. Silence enveloped us for a moment, thick with tension.
Then we heard the footsteps again. It sounded like they were creaking up the stairs now, very slowly.
“Dammit,” Aveda hissed, wrapping her cape more tightly around her. “Why isn’t this an invisibility cloak?”
“What, it doesn’t also have that component?” I said dryly.
The footsteps stopped for a moment, then resumed. It sounded like whoever it was had gotten to our floor, and was now making their way down the hall. Aveda and I squished ourselves more into the bookshelf, both of us practically holding our breath.
The footsteps got closer.
And closer.
Now they were turning the corner, coming down the hall . . .
Creak creak creak
“Holy shit,” I breathed out. “Do you think that’s Clementine?”
“Shhhh!” Aveda hissed.
The footsteps stopped outside the door. And the door creaked open.
“What the . . .” A familiar voice echoed through the room. Then the lights flicked on.
“Evie?” the voice said.
“Provost Glennon?” I said, poking my head out from behind the bookshelf.
She shot me a look of consternation, then opened her mouth to speak . . .
And it was right at that moment that our tiny burst of light exploded into an extremely large burst of light. I closed my eyes instinctively, managing to open them just as a shadowy form landed on the office floor with an eardrum-shattering CRASH.
Aveda and I both screamed.
The shadow turned itself over, coughing and wheezing. That’s when I realized the shadow was a person—a person I recognized.
“Pippa?!” I squeaked, unable to believe my eyes.
“Yeah,” she coughed out, her voice raspy. “Where the hell am I?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I NEED YOU all to explain what happened here,” Provost Glennon said, pacing in front of us. She stopped and pinched the bridge of her nose. “From the beginning. I’d forgotten something in my office, and I come to retrieve it and find . . .” She made a series of expansive gestures. “. . . all this chaos.”
“We were on a ghost crawl—”
“There was a weird light we had to follow—”
“I burned your doorknob off, but it was an emergency—”
“I fell out of the fucking sky—”
“Stop!” Provost Glennon held up her hands, leveling all three of us with a long-suffering look. She’d marched us back down to the foyer, where Aveda and I were now crammed into a stiff, uncomfortable loveseat and Pippa was sprawled on a chaise-longue, being examined by a doctor from the on-campus clinic. The lights were on now, making all the Halloween decorations seem even more cartoonish—I tried not to stare at the limp plastic skeleton in the corner of the foyer, who had been positioned so it was waving to us. “First, tell me why you were all in my office,” Provost Glennon continued. “Why you apparently broke into my office.”
“We were chasing what we thought was a ghost,” I said, exchanging a look with Aveda. We could actually tell most of the truth here and be in the clear. But I had to be careful about what I revealed to Provost Glennon. I still didn’t know everything about
her involvement with all this, and I definitely didn’t trust her. I had to tamp down on my urge to turn it around and ask her questions—I knew that probably wasn’t going to get us anywhere at the moment. “And then some other ghosts chased us. I’m afraid we had to break into your office to escape. We’re not actively trying to damage more Morgan College landmarks, but sometimes it’s unavoidable.”
“I see,” Provost Glennon said, exasperation crossing her face. “And what happened once you’d followed it into my office?”
“It was floating up by the ceiling,” Aveda said. “Then after you came in, it, like . . .” She made an exploding motion with her hands. “. . . and Pippa here emerged from it. Fell out of the sky. Like she said.”
Pippa gave Aveda a thumbs-up. She didn’t seem to be hurt, but her general demeanor was dazed and a little shell-shocked, like she was still trying to parse what, exactly, had happened.
So were we.
“She seems to be fine, physically,” the campus doctor said, nodding at Provost Glennon. “Perhaps a bit dehydrated. I recommend bed rest for a week. And of course call the clinic if you have any issues.”
“Will do, Doc,” Pippa said, her voice still raspy.
“Pippa,” I said, leaning forward, “are you sure you’re okay?”
“Totally fine,” she said, waving a hand. I studied her for a moment. That . . . didn’t seem super likely. But maybe she wasn’t ready to process the trauma of what she’d gone through just yet. So I switched gears, making a mental note to keep a close eye on her emotional reactions.
“Do you have any idea where you were?” I asked. “Or how long you’ve been gone?”
“No,” Pippa said, accepting the bottle of water the doctor passed to her. “I . . .” She trailed off, her brow crinkling.
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Aveda said.
“Wait a sec,” Pippa said, taking a gulp of water and pulling herself into a sitting position. “I have questions, too! You aren’t just a TA, are you, Eliza? Like, a normal TA?”
“We’ll get to that later.” I gave her a coaxing smile. “I promise. But first, we need to retrace your steps. What were you doing before you were taken . . . wherever you were taken?”
Pippa blew out a long breath, her eyes rolling skyward. With her platinum hair mussed and her bold eyeliner rubbed off, she looked heartbreakingly young.
“Shelby and I had a fight,” she said, parsing each word slowly. “We were in our room, and I wanted to go back to the party. I was so wide awake after our little Taco Bell share-fest, ya know? But she had to go to bed for crew. And I didn’t listen, because I’m bad at that.” She frowned into space and took a gulp of water, her gaze wandering over to the waving skeleton. “So finally I told her she was being boring and stormed out. I went back to the party, but it was pretty much done, the rec room had emptied out, and then . . .” She trailed off, her eyes going a bit unfocused.
“And then what?” Aveda urged.
“All of a sudden, it was just blackness. All around me.”
“Like you passed out?” I said. “Or blacked out from drinking?”
“No.” Her gaze went to the ceiling, her face twisting as she tried to call up the memories. “That’s what I thought at first—but then I realized I was still conscious. One minute I was entering the rec room, contemplating my friendships and my crushes and well, the sheer nature of my existence . . . and then the next, I was enveloped in darkness. I reached out, tried to stand up, but I couldn’t move very far. It was like I was stuck in some kind of, I don’t know, coffin.” She shuddered. “And everything I touched around me was kind of soft and velvety. It was so weird.”
I frowned, wondering if Aveda was thinking the same thing I was. The atmosphere Pippa was describing sounded all too familiar—though I needed to check with Bea to be sure.
“Did you have any concept about how much time was passing?” Aveda said. “And did you interact with anyone while you were in this coffin-type thing?”
“No.” Pippa shook her head emphatically. “It was like I was suddenly pulled away from reality. Swept off of Earth. Taken somewhere completely alien . . . I fell asleep eventually. Woke up. Kept trying to yell for help or find a way to escape, but nothing.” She shrugged and took another gulp of water, polishing off the bottle. The doctor handed her another one. “I was just about to scratch my way out with my bare hands, when I heard . . . voices.” Her eyes widened with realization. “They were your voices! Eliza and Angelica! And suddenly I saw this tiny bit of light, so I tried to follow it.”
“So you weren’t guiding us?” Aveda asked. “ ’Cause we were chasing you.”
“No, I was just trying to follow the light,” Pippa mused. “And then there was, like, a massive burst of light, and then suddenly I’m falling from the sky and landing on my ass in the provost’s office.” She raised her water bottle at Provost Glennon in a toast. “Sorry about that. Hope I didn’t break anything.”
“Eliza already broke the door, so I think you’re good,” Aveda snorted.
“Yes, all good,” Provost Glennon confirmed. “I’m just glad you’re unharmed, Pippa.” She was studying Pippa intently—and once again, her odd little smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Do you want us to escort you back to the dorm?” Aveda asked Pippa.
“We can explain all about our, er, special TA duties on the way there,” I added.
“That would be great,” Pippa said, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a mighty yawn. “But first . . . actually, I’m starving. Can you . . .”
“Get you some food? Of course,” I said.
“I have a very specific food in mind,” Pippa said. She grinned at us and quirked an eyebrow, regaining some of her usual sparkle.
“Oh, yes,” Aveda said, returning her grin. “We all deserve some of that.”
* * *
Before we set out on another Taco Bell adventure, we stopped by Mara Dash to pick up Shelby. Pippa managed to text pretty much anyone who might have been worried about her on our way there, but she wanted to surprise Shelby. My heart warmed seeing Pippa get a little extra bounce in her step as we approached her dorm room.
I marveled at how quickly she seemed to have recovered—she actually hadn’t been especially interested in our explanation of our “special TA duties,” she mostly just wanted to get back to Shelby. She was practically beaming as she knocked on the door.
We heard shuffling noises, Shelby muttering to herself. We all leaned in, the air thick with anticipation. Pippa hopped from one foot to the other, barely able to contain herself.
“What?” Shelby demanded as she opened the door, rubbing her eyes. “Who’s—”
Then she saw Pippa and her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
“Holy shit!” she screamed. And slammed the door in our faces.
“Shel!” Pippa burst into giggles. She knocked on the door again. “Open up!”
The door creaked open more slowly, Shelby staring at us in utter disbelief.
“It’s really you,” she said, her voice tremulous.
“It’s me,” Pippa said, throwing her arms wide.
Shelby dove into them, crying hard. “I . . . I didn’t know where you were,” she sobbed. “I thought I’d never see you again. I’m . . . I’m sorry we fought . . . I . . .” The rest of her words were swallowed by sobs as she buried her face in Pippa’s shoulder.
“It’s okay, Shel—I’m sorry, too. I was a jerk. But I’m here now. I’m okay,” Pippa said, reaching up to brush away tears of her own. “And that’s all that matters.”
I took a step back, giving them space, and motioned for Aveda to do the same. She linked her arm through mine and rested her head on my shoulder.
“We do okay sometimes,” she said softly.
I smiled and let my own tears fall. Maybe I couldn�
�t fix everything that was wrong right now, maybe I couldn’t make my supposedly perfect life actually perfect . . . but at least I could do this.
And for now, that was enough.
* * *
“So what delight shall I try tonight,” Aveda said, gripping the steering wheel with zeal.
“Cheesy Gordita Crunch!” Pippa sang out from the back seat, where she was safely ensconced with Shelby—and Carpet Ball, who was riding in Shelby’s lap. “The most disgusting Taco Bell food item and therefore also the best. I think it contains five kinds of cheese—or cheese-like product.”
“I must have it,” Aveda marveled, her eyes lighting up.
I grinned at her and felt that pulse of easy warmth again—the camaraderie of all of us crammed in the car, heading to late-night fast food.
Pippa and Shelby were chattering away in the back, Pippa recounting her big adventure and talking about some costume ideas for the upcoming Halloween Courtyard Bash. I studied her in the rearview mirror as she gesticulated all over the place, her eyes bright and animated.
“Hey,” I murmured to Aveda, low enough so Shelby and Pippa couldn’t hear—they were so wrapped up in their conversation, it’s doubtful they would have heard me anyway. “Is Pippa really okay? She’s been through so much, but she seems so . . . I don’t know. Her bounce-back is a little too fast, no?”
Aveda’s gaze drifted to the rearview mirror, homing in on Pippa just as the girl let out an uproarious laugh.
“Mmm,” Aveda said, her eyes narrowing. “I think I know what’s happening. Let me try something.” She raised her voice, so it carried to the back seat. “What’s so funny back there?” she asked, grinning at Pippa and Shelby in the rearview mirror.
“Aw, nothing,” Pippa said, waving a hand and giving Shelby an impish grin. Shelby clutched Carpet Ball to her chest. “Just glad to be back with my ride-or-die, here. Hey, maybe we should do Fast and the Furious costumes for the bash!”
